Sunlight stretches long
beams across dazzling new green
fields glinting with dew.
Found on the WordPress blog roll April 8 April 8, 2013
A warm wind invites much lingering
Rain like a spectator listening
to the gold geometry
where my heart used to be.
Finding myself in Italy,
all I ever wanted to be.
I’m not broken:
shattered iris,
experience of sensuality.
You would be here
under the silky shield.
Stifled tremblings,
a flock of hardy souls
haunting the spaces.
Today I am deep purple,
written in the ink of my tears,
staring at the tea.
.
Second verse, same as the first! Single lines collected from poems on the blog roll from between 1:25 and 2:25 PDT April 8, 2013 and turned into a found poem. If you recognise a line from your poem, please link to your poem!
Found on the blog reader April 7 April 7, 2013
Poetry echoes with vengeance,
Bifurcated lamentations against mortals
Full of dirty melt water.
You tuned the whippoorwills,
we felt larger than life,
huddled together under the blustery illusion.
There’s no exit,
infinite stillness;
weighted gates have slammed rusted shut.
Catch the tears of a sinful angel
ominous beauty
with subtle return.
The waves can’t reach you.
.
This is a found poem.
As I scroll through the WordPress blog reader a few moments ago, certain phrases or lines jump out at me, so today I scribed them, and then re-arranged the bits to make something new and interesting. The challenge is that I can only use the bits I found. What do you think?
glances April 5, 2013
You wiped my eye from the tears,
Tearing yourself from the
paper poetry of your perfection,
Ripping my gaze apart.
poetry or prose?
So what’s your preference?
The last few weeks I’ve had a focus on poetry on the blog, as a bit of an experiment.
Now that it’s National Poetry Month, in my typical contrary fashion, I will be switching to prose.
This is because I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this month. Instead of the punishing 50,000 word goal of November’s event, Camp allows us to pick our own goals, and I’m going for 25k, which should be much more easily accomplished. I will count blogs, articles, and fiction in one jumble of word count, and separate them out later.
My question is, what do you like to read here? Do you prefer poetic ramblings, or commentary? Do you like fiction samples or pings of other people’s amazing work?
I’m eclectic, but in the blog world, niches are good. It’s easy for your audience if you’re consistent in your offerings. It’s hard for me, because niches bore me.
Help me decide my direction and give me your opinon. What is your favourite thing on shawnbird.com?
mistakes March 30, 2013
It wasn’t one
to grab you so tightly that my fingers turned white
and to kiss you until my lips bled in bed at night.
It wasn’t one
to dream it could possibly be me and you
or to fight to make it true.
It wasn’t one
to fill every day with our love year after year
then to fight as days filled with fear.
What was one
was that your body betrayed us
and you’re riding off into the sunset
without me.
.
For David & Julia
I’m coming home March 26, 2013
I’m coming home
From far flung flings
and flailing things
like starfish arms, gripping rock, torn by tide.
.
I’m coming home
to truth tuned tightly
and played upon my harp
like melodies that echo in the wind
from unplucked strings.
.
I’m coming home
in isolated indigo tiptoeing
in Indian moccasins, like flocks I’ve seen
in creeping dreams.
.
I’m coming home
only you will know me
dancing past in dazzling light
and carried on the breeze
but you will know
when I am home.
beach haiku March 19, 2013
Ocean backs away
and denizens are caught sunbathing
in small pools.
.
Tidal pool at Seal Rock, Oregon
Can you see the Green Anemones” clinging to the rock on the left? You can see how windy it is from the ripples on the water! It was a stormy day.
Here’s a tidal pool rich in sea life! This one is the touch pool at the Oregon Coast Aquarium. That big anemone on the right grabbed my finger and numbed the tip with its anaesthetic. On the left are abalone, the black frill just feels like a satin ribbon. The star fish are rough.
.
kiss the sky March 15, 2013
The fields are reaching
misty fingers from the earth,
stretching to the sky.
Clouds descend, enfolding all
in their diaphanous cloaks.
Shawn L. Bird 
yes April 2, 2013
Tags: leap, poem, poetry
Yes, she says
Leap into the unknown
Do what you most fear.
Yes, he says.
Leap into my arms
Be what you most fear.
Yes.
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