Your wits are dull
Your eyes are glazed
Your ambitions are low
You are dull
There is nowhere
for you to go.
poem-unexpected April 24, 2016
You had plans
expectations
fought to bring them to fruition.
Imagine your surprise
when they were realized,
to find what you’d surmised
to be a paradise, what you fantasized
is actually a ruination
and your frustration forces a
mutation of
your plans.
poem- four centuries April 23, 2016
Four centuries
before I was born
Will Shakespeare arrived
on the planet.
Four centuries ago today
Will’s body died
but his voice remains,
his words will still enthrall,
for centuries.
poem- flourishing April 22, 2016
Last year,
we met to discuss how we were flourishing,
what made this place so wonderful,
so welcoming,
so special.
This year,
I read your words about us,
and my body weeps at what has become
of our once wonderful
welcoming,
special
place.
Tension in my shoulders.
Stomach churning.
Nails bitten.
Eyes clouded.
Head throbbing.
Make do with less until there is nothing left.
Remake what was precious and original
into tiny boxes that shove our innovation
into boring cookie cutters
and the only flourish is from the arm
cutting us to fit.
quote- creativity April 21, 2016
With respect to the fashion he loves to capture on New York streets photographer Bill Cunningham said,
“A lot of people have taste, but they don’t have the daring to be creative.”
.
.
How often have I heard this?
I love your shoes,
but I could never wear something like that.
Oh, I love your hair!
I wish I had the guts to do that.
Your outfits are always so great,
how do you come up with these ensembles?
That car is so cute!
I could never do that.
I’ve started about a dozen books,
but I never finish them.
Just do it. You have the power to decide.
I wonder some days, if I’ve gone over the deep end
into Crazy Old Lady Land
but what the hell. We live one time.
There are no secrets here.
Every day, make choices that make you feel
sublime.
poem- achievement April 19, 2016
A bank account with room for adventure
parchment with seals
a hand to hold
lips to kiss arms to embrace
Health to walk and talk pain free
Recognition for what’s good
Satisfaction and contentment
Faith in me. Trust around me.
Time for words .
. More time for words.
Time with wordsmiths.
Home with a view to
. tomorrow.
poem- buns April 18, 2016
I can! I will!
Independent spirit meets reality.
Baking after the brain injury
the cinnamon buns are tasty commas
rolling spirals a surprising impossibility.
Perhaps everything is
not
as it was.
Poem- babies April 17, 2016
Twenty-nine years ago today
I held a baby in my arms,
after 9 months of nurturing her
under my heart. Reading everything on
growing the best baby, checking off the nutritional
requirements every day,
doing my best to be the best mom.
Dreaming about her future, who she might be.
Today, I hold a baby in my lap,
a black ball of fluff that wags its tail at me.
I studied its pedigree and now,
I watch training videos and imagine the fun we’ll have.
I might be a better puppy mommy?
We’ll see.
.
.
.
😉
poem- Culloden Moor April 16, 2016
I didn’t see your ghosts
feel your spirits in the air
I didn’t understand what
drove folks to leave there;
On Culloden Moor the Scots
were slaughtered and died
Then drove from their lands
in Canada they arrived.
Their hardy characters
explored from sea to sea,
naming off the rivers,
(and my university).
The brutal battle that was fought
upon this day
led to our confederation
and the TransCanada
Highway.
.
.
Most of what I know about the Battle of Culloden I learned from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. However, it’s very cool that my husband’s ancestor Dr. John Rattray was Bonnie Prince Charlie’s personal physician in Edinburgh, and was saved from the noose afterwards only by the timely interference of his golf buddy and judge Duncan Forbes. (John Rattray was Captain of St Andrews and one of the signatories of the official rules of golf in 1744. Cronyism in golf plainly goes back to the beginning of the sport).
Shawn L. Bird 