Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-point of view May 5, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:39 am
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So often

what I think is a conversation about me

you think is a conversation about you.

My feelings

aren’t just feelings, they’re an attack.

But they’re not.

They belong to me

and they’re allowed to be

what they are.

I long for you to acknowledge

how I feel

what I wonder

what I want

isolated from your sense

of inadequacy.

I’m tired

tired

tired of your issue

always overshadowing

any of my concerns.

Mental illness

is annoyingly

narcissistic.

Please consider other points of view.

It isn’t always about you.

Really.

Sometimes it’s about me.

 

poem-surprises May 4, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:12 pm
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It still surprises me

To uncover these weaknesses

You try to so hard to cover

With bombast and bomb blasts.

Acting out to hide insecurity

Inability

And the itching awareness that

You don’t measure up.

Your brain doesn’t quite hold onto

the words

the meanings

The feelings fill you up

Fear

Frustration

Anger.

Why?

WHY!

Just because

is not enough answer.

Why?

Chemistry.

Biology.

Nature?  Nurture?

Better just say

“Because”

You didn’t win the lottery

And everything will be harder.

You’re pushing at the pull door.

But if you quit pushing against it

embrace your responsibility

For your own life,

Take it

I know it will go

Far more smoothly

For you.

You are so much stronger

than you believe

you are.

We just have to pull together.

 

poem- The Bird by Patrick Lane April 28, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:08 pm
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From The Collected Poems of Patrick Lane (Harbour Publishing, 2011)

The Bird

The bird you captured is dead.

I told you it would die

but you would not learn

from my telling.  You wanted

to cage a bird in your hands

and learn to fly.

.

Listen again.

You must not handle birds.

They cannot fly through your fingers.

You are not a nest

and a feather is

not made of blood and bone.

.

Only words

can fly for you like birds

on the wall of the sun.

A bird is a poem

that talks of the end of cages.

.

I’m attending a poetry retreat with Patrick Lane this summer, so I’ve been reading his work.  I’m looking forward to the opportunity to study with him!

 

 

poem- something new April 27, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:45 pm
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There is something new in the air

A faint scent of possibility

that wafts past unexpectedly.

There is something making me

wonder about continuity

and what’s coming to be.

 

poem- stretching April 26, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:37 am
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Some days

I feel like a little kid standing against a ruler:

“You must be this tall to ride.”

Stretching beyond all comfort,

but still coming up

short.

 

poem- beware the horde April 25, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:07 am
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The zombie horde is here.

You see them wandering through town

eyes cast down

faces gleaming in reflected glow.

They don’t notice anything

beyond the little screen

that disengages in the lie

of social connection,

introspection?

Zombies  don’t know how

to greet a stranger with a smile

to meet a new friend’s eyes.

Their thumbs down

they’re dumbed down.

Mindless, spineless,

hypnotized, mesmerized,

To numb to despise the device

that drugs them ’til they hum,

with zombie poison.

 

 

poem – midnight April 24, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:03 am
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In the black room,

the light from the

DVD player claims

it’s 12:00.

12:01.

12:02.

Every minute

counting down to you.

12:03

Are you dreaming of me?

 

poem- watcher April 18, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:17 am
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I pass the old man

on his balcony.

Huge sunglasses

through which he watches

like a

diurnal owl;

the world unfolds below him.

 

Just like my dad liked to sit.

I don’t wipe away

my tear.

 

Poem- folded April 13, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:59 pm
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You’re creating a story

folded into the pages of the book

It’s not the story the author intended.

It’s not what people expect to see.

But your folds and cuts

tell your story,

and your story

is enough.

 

 

poem- humming April 12, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:43 am
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I feel your humming.

Though you are far,

the vibrations of your present loss

reverberate.

I am humming

remembering you

near

nearer

nearest

wrapped around

my memories

squeezing like

a garbage compactor

humming

as it crushes

moments into

memories.