The moon is a street light
dimming the gleam of stars
while amphibian love songs
fill the summer night.
poem- tempest August 13, 2016
Swirling tides roar
Air rumbles and crackles
Bitterness rises
A stomach bent on anarchy.
poem-virtous August 12, 2016
Men waiting outside the fabric store
young men
old men
Sitting in cars, humming to the radio
Standing with a cigarette watching traffic go by
Sitting, eyes glazed.
Leaning, napping.
These are the patient men,
the blesséd men,
who wait while colours are contemplated
drape is determined
possibilities are dreamed.
These are the rewarded later men,
who chauffeur home happy wives,
smile vacantly, and say
“Yes, dear.”
thankful their wives know nothing
about the cost of tools.
poem- cleaning August 11, 2016
So many bottles
in gift baskets:
body shampoo
lotion
bath oil
bubble bath
body scrub
Why do all these people think I need
so much help to get clean?
.
.
(cleaning out the bathroom cupboards today)
poem-tranquility August 10, 2016
I count three shooting stars
as the porch swing rocks to the rhythm
of one desperately lovesick frog.
poem-geese August 7, 2016
The temperature has soared;
crowds gather on the lake
for another hot summer day,
but early this morning
I heard the geese leaving,
portents of autumn on the wind.
poem-puppy love August 5, 2016
Wrapped around my leg
munching a clattering antler
fuzzy black love.
.
.
Puppies are so sweet when they’re not chewing your glasses or devouring a black ballpoint pen on your cream leather sofa…
poem-foggy August 4, 2016
I have been walking in a fog
My mind blurred at the edges,
thoughts soft as cirrocumulus
passing above on a summer day.
Nothing feels important enough
to rise from the stupor. My pilot light,
that creative spark is not burning
strongly enough to penetrate the haze.
Summer’s changing shape
has consequences.
poem- moon glow August 3, 2016
Upon my chest, the moonstone pendant sits.
I gaze down at a clear rock streaked with white
and wonder what happened to the glow that
captivated me from the display case.
.
Busy at work,
“I’m sorry,” the lady says, “I don’t mean to stare, but
does your necklace have a light in it?”
“Yes,” another says, “I was wondering that, too.
It’s beaming from your chest! It’s so amazing!
What kind of stone is that?”
.
Moonstone, you teach me a lesson:
While we are looking down at something, we may not see its potential
to reflect a glorious light.
In unexpected moments, a glow reflects what it can be.
poem- trust me August 1, 2016
It’s not in the wishes.
It’s in the moments.
The reality.
The day to day.
It’s in consistency.
Trust me.
Shawn L. Bird 