Two hundred
ninety-
eight
souls
rise
as
two
hundred
ninety-
eight
bodies
fall
from
the
sky.
.
.
.
Malaysian Airliner shot down over the Ukraine. Another tragedy.
poem-drowning July 15, 2014
Word came
that the ship was lost:
No survivors.
Her beloved
perished amid a storm
In her dreams
she sees him
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
sinking
sinking
sinking
drifting
drifting
drifting
on her
tears.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I suppose this could be about Echo in the Bone by Diana Gabaldon, but in fact, it came from listening to The Lost Wife by Alyson Richman. It also reminds me of a family story.
My grandfather was a ship captain on the St. Lawrence Seaway. One day, a knock came on the door, and my grandmother was told gravely that his ship had sunk, and he was lost. This would no doubt have been far more traumatic, had grandpa not been sitting in the living room at the time.
poem-trysts
In quiet corners
obsession lingers
eyes stuck tight
while passion flames.
Wrapped in arms,
stroked, caressed,
paper thin
each moment savoured
with lingering longings
until with sighs,
the last
page is turned.
.
.
.
(Always so sad when a great book comes to an end)
poem-tolls July 14, 2014
He pays the toll
peck east
peck west
She’s the vehicle for
this journey
over-heavy for the road
burdened by billboards
Her engine rattles,
clanks,
thuds
down the road.
The convoy carries on
taking
a toll.
poem- not tree July 13, 2014
T h i s i s a
t
e
e
.
.
.
(Snicker. Sometimes I do things just to amuse myself. Ignore me).
poem- tree
T h i s i s a
t
r
e
e
.
.
(with apologies to Joyce Kilmer, who’s right, ’cause it isn’t as lovely as the real thing)
poem- dancing
She wouldn’t dance.
But still
he spun her in circles
twisted her arms
flipped her over
spun her again
’til she was dizzy.
And yet
she wouldn’t dance.
poem-bursting July 12, 2014
Yesterday
she was a closed bud
Today
she’s burst into pink frills
dusted with yellow
streaked with purple.
Tomorrow
she may fade
but today
she is a glory.
poem on Acton Scott Traditional Farm fence
I was pleased to submit this poem to a cool project!
Acton Scott Farm in Shropshire England has a resident poet called Jean Atkin running a fascinating poetry project that she outlines on her blog: http://actonscottfarmpoet.wordpress.com/ Check it out!
Love those beautiful Shire horses!
I’d love a trip to England to visit the farm. If you’re a little closer than Western Canada, you should go! 🙂
Shawn L. Bird 