The light is behind you
and you are a glorious silhouette
You see only shadows,
but we see beauty.
poem-weak February 2, 2015
Is it because
you can not bear your own weaknesses
that you are so angry
faced with others’ weakness?
In your fervent effort
to do what must be done,
do you not see your heart?
What are you afraid
we will see, in your weakness?
Vulnerability is beautiful.
Vulnerability expands
your universe.
Don’t be afraid
to be kind to yourself,
and kind to others.
We are all weak once
in a while.
poem-rolling February 1, 2015
I rolled into the room
delighted with engagement,
conversation,
company.
I rolled out of the room
on a high.
I rolled into the house
fell into my bed
and took fifteen hours
to recover from
intellectual curiosity.
.
.
Had my first big outing since I’ve been laid up with my broken ankle. I was out 6 hours for medical appointment, grad school workshop, and transportation. It was wonderful to talk to folks more erudite than my dogs, but apparently it was exhausting! The ankle wasn’t thrilled, either. I won’t be doing it again for a few weeks!
poem-hollow January 31, 2015
Her belly is hollow.
Once it was filled with him,
but she has been excavated
and spun into emptiness.
.
Her head is hollow.
Once it was filled with him,
but she has been desolated
and spun into heaviness.
.
Her life is hollow.
Once it was filled with him,
but she has been devastated
and spun into enviousness.
.
Her hope was hollow.
Once it was filled with him,
but she has been extricated,
and spins into readiness
poem-knitting January 30, 2015
I’m twisting yarn,
clicking knots together,
entwining future warmth
and comfort
poem-dust January 28, 2015
The layers
speak of neglect
and distraction,
of time passing.
Traces of us
settle on ledges
and I am loath
to find a cloth
and wipe us off.
poem-mother January 27, 2015
Grade eight.
Horror.
Mother is her substitute teacher today.
“Do not
acknowledge
that you know me!” she hissed.
But when her name was called for
attendance, and teacher-mother
looked around for
whichever student would raise her hand,
she glowered,
unhappy
with anonymity.
poem-voyageur January 26, 2015
So you packed your canoe,
left a good man,
gave away that puppy,
you’d given to
those good boys,
those sweet little boys,
and rowed off to find yourself
on a river of their tears.
I hope the discovery
proves worth it
in the end.
poem- found Jan25 January 25, 2015
Pattern stitches
on demand
bordered diamonds
needles
hooks
open sesame
mind
body
spirit
try
.
.
.
This one was ‘found’ using words that I could see from where I was sitting on books, labels, and TV.
Shawn L. Bird 