Motes make magic
in gleaming beams.
poem-promise September 29, 2015
Those childish promises
made with fervent belief
prove the power of intention:
Fealty sworn with hooked pinkies
in confident conviction.
poem-glow September 28, 2015
You rise, a blood red orb,
taunting star-gazers as you
cover your face behind a grey blanket.
poem-temptation September 27, 2015
Your chocolate eyes are caramel today
I want to savour your gaze,
feel its sweetness
against the bitter cocoa bite,
butterscotch touch upon my tongue
your vision devouring me in turn.
poem-chance September 26, 2015
I bought my chance,
pocketed the ticket and imagined.
Studied local real estate listings
picked out the house,
Sent the note to hubby with the link:
When we win, can I buy this?
He said, I’m surprised you like that fake rock wall.
I said, At 3.5 million the rock isn’t fake.
I still hadn’t figured out which room will be my office,
where I’ll install the dozen book cases.
But when the numbers came up
some guy in Brampton
had taken my 60 million pieces of a dream.
so all my planning was for naught;
I guess for now I’ll have to be content
with what I’ve got.
.
.
.
Hubby approved the location, despite the rock wall. Here’s the house that won’t be mine: http://www.realtor.ca/Residential/Single-Family/15507510/16233-Commonage-Road-Lake-Country-British-Columbia-V4V1A8 (Not very common, I must say!)
poem-washing
The dishwasher hums with cyclical rhythm
and somewhere your feet are pumping at the same cadence
returning to me.
Water sloshes around the sealed box, cleaning,
and somewhere you are salty with wet, sipping Gater-aid
to get through kilometer eighty.
The kitchen dishes are washing
your pedals are turning
and I am waiting for your salty kisses.
poem-two months September 25, 2015
Two months
Sixty-one days
Sixty-one memories of your smile
Sixty-one wishes for your stories
Two mysterious photographs
Too many days
without you.
.
.
RIPDaddy
Last week a genealogist doing a one name study of Duguay found my dad’s obituary here. After getting a bit of basic information that could connect into his database, he sent me Dad’s family line back to 1620 in Burgundy, France. I then did a little additional research. Dad would have been intrigued, especially to know that at 1672 we share a common ancestor with some famous people: Hillary Clinton (American politician), Tom Mulcair (Canadian politician), Anne Hébert (Canadian author and poet).
poem-leave
The dog pulls you down the street.
Your eyes are hazy,
Your hair is wild.
Your beard’s unkempt.
Your steps thud awkwardly like you’ve forgotten how to walk.
If the outside reflects the inside,
you definitely need some time
to regain your health again.
poem- whether September 24, 2015
It couldn’t be, he said, that you are unwilling?
A shrug was the reply.
Do you feel unable?
Another shrug.
You know, he said, it’s always a choice;
if you are willing,
eventually,
you are able.
poem- first September 23, 2015
Happy birthday, you said
bending over to kiss my cheek.
And with my fluttering heart and flaming blush
I decided that was my first kiss,
that all the others did not count.
Because I wanted my first kiss to come from you,
my heart believed it had.
Shawn L. Bird 