Three times a charm
at least for him, pumping joyfully.
She stairs at the ceiling.
poem- stretch July 14, 2015
and that is beginning
and that is ending
and that is continuity
and that is blessing
and that is leaving
and that is receiving
and that is you
and that is me
and that is we
poem- late July 13, 2015
Eleven forty-two
and I’m missing you
You said you’d be back between
eleven thirty and twelve o’clock
I hope you didn’t stop anywhere because it seems
The minutes are hours and I’m powerless
with longing. I guess this means
I love you, even though now it’s
eleven fifty-two
.
.
.
.
(Actually, he came through the door at 11:47, right on schedule. Poetic license!) 🙂
poem- not a poet July 11, 2015
I’m not a poet she said
I don’t get poetry.
But
everything she says is poetical
She views the world in deep metaphors.
She embodies poetry.
Giving something a name
gives it power, she said.
Am I a poet
because I accept the name?
.
.
(Write about that abalone, Tina!)
poem- Thank you July 10, 2015
Thank you
though you broke my heart into pieces
that never quite went back together the same way again,
Thank you.
You said I knew you better than anyone. I floated on those words
hopeful they meant forever.
You knew and every word was true.
But knowing didn’t mean staying.
Knowing meant facing painful truths
Knowing didn’t erase you,
it released me.
Thank you.
haiku- longing July 9, 2015
When I think of you,
Longing rises in me like weeping.
This must be love
poem- so much to learn July 8, 2015
The university library stacks are wall to wall
floor to ceiling
so much knowledge between the covers
so much learning hard won
no time
to ever try to read it all.
poem-bongo birthday July 7, 2015
I want bongos for my birthday
beat beat beat
Oh I want them in the worst way
beat beat beat
Listen to the poets
go at the words
Have you heard their thoughts curled
swirled
unfurled
about their heads?
Those poets glow, man
beat beat beat
I wanna go find some bongos, man
Find the beat
fire the heat
be complete with the time, the rhyme,
Oh so sublime
beat beat beat
Bongos, man.
Yeah.
.
.
(My birthday was this week. I did NOT get bongos. Boo hoo.)
(Or a beret or tight black pants, though that’s probably for the best).
poem-it’s the hat July 6, 2015
It’s the hat
that first catches their attention.
Who wears hats these days,
but cowboys and teen punks?
and the punks have it backwards.
Her round little hat hasn’t enough brim
to keep off much sun,
but it has enough character to keep off
the bores and the introverts,
and that’s enough.
She doesn’t seem to notice them
drawing into the walls as she goes by,
their fear is palpable, but she is insensible.
It’s not outwardly a power hat, in fact, it’s kind of cute,
but no one wears hats these days who doesn’t wear
a confidence that scares off
weaker souls.
Shawn L. Bird 