Finally the days
are growing longer again
inching to summer.
or not December 14, 2011
Come.
They said.
The end is near.
Maybe not.
I said.
He’s tougher than he looks.
Not this time.
They said.
Come.
Hurry.
So we sat holding our breath
when his stopped.
Waiting.
But morning came.
And the next.
And the next.
He’s tougher than he looks.
Told you so.
vigil December 11, 2011
We’re waiting
counting the space between breaths
that stretch the silence
before the next crackling,
static filled gasp
of a soul tuning toward
eternity.
faithless November 8, 2011
This was written from a prompt for Gooseberry Garden on Feathers, Fidelity Figment and Fables.
.
Your name is faithfulness.
Time stretched the fidelity
and you left that future,
For years t’was fueled
by the fervour of adoration,
and the declaration of forever.
Faith dripped
faintly
across forever
and fell
in fragrant furrows
of fallow hope.
Fictional voices October 26, 2011
Fictional voices
I understand the call of the other world
The voices beckoning
“Stay!”
Sometimes it’s hard to leave them,
To return to a world of responsibility
Of real hurt
Of real anguish
Of real love.
The world between the pages
Invades dreams
Fills days,
Creates a longing
That is only fulfilled
By words.
26.10.2011
the patient September 29, 2011
He folds into the chair
with deliberate casualness.
He speaks routine phrases,
but his eyes dart.
like a cornered creature,
warily watching.
He throws his words
defensively
he defines his territory,
while we nod
and wonder
when
wellness
will conquer.
Submitted for the Gooseberry Patch Poetry sharing on a theme of love and loss. This one is about loss. Please leave a link to your own submission, if you leave a comment. Thanks!
Autumn haiku September 17, 2011
Breathe in the scent of / falling leaves and smoke twisting / in Crisp autumn air
Yesterday I wrote a love song September 15, 2011
While Grace Awakening Power (Book two in the series) is out for final edits, I’m working on Grace Awakening Myth, the third book. Grace Awakening Myth is Awakening Dreams told from Ben’s perspective. Poor Ben (aka Orpheus!) is suffering at the moment with his shattered nose. He’s in pursuit of his beloved Grace, and she is not being cooperative. He’s suffering so much that it was time for a cathartic poem…
.
Yesterday I wrote a love song
Spun in circles
Weaving memory
Reaching past today
Touching yesterday
Touching you
The only way
That’s left.
Yesterday was wrapped in kisses
Spun on cycles
Weaving history
Reaching past today
Touching yesterday
Touching you
The only way
That’s left.
Today you’re gone and how I long
For circles cycles
Memory and history
Reaching past today
Touching yesterday
Touching you
The only way
That’s left
Tomorrow needs to be prolonged
Spin our cycle
To eternity
Reaching through today
Beyond yesterday
Touching you
Every day
That’s best.
.
.
Not sure whether or not that will end up being in the book. I think it would make an awesome song. I need a musician to take on that challenge…
Submitted as part of the Gooseberry Garden poetry picnic. If you are here for the picnic, please include a link to your own submission if you leave a comment. Thanks!
The Thing September 7, 2011
With a bump and a grunt I started to jump
What was that by the cat? That thing with the lump?
Something scary
and hairy.
Something wiggling!
(I’m jiggly!)
It is black on its back
It is red on its head.
That bit on the paw,
Was that yellow I saw?I
Those colours so bright are making me weep
from the fright.
I fear it will come near
Will bump into me here?
It will leap while I sleep!
Will it beat me? Or eat me?
I stared and I shivered
It glared and I quivered.
It wiggled closer to me
A tingle ran through me.
A step closer it came
And then closer again!
I just couldn’t help it: I shrieked.
Then the thing, well, it leaked
A small yellow puddle
Of a fellow in a muddle.
Its head tilted down
On its face a sad frown,
From its eyes dripped a trickle.
Oh my! That’s a pickle.
Is it looked up at me, I thought, “Could it be
That the thing over there, That thing covered in hair,
that thing coming near Is not something to fear?
If it leaked when I shrieked,
Did it think I was scary?
Did it think I was hairy?
With black on my head
My back covered in red?
So I took one step nearer and the creature came clearer.
It was cute. It was fuzzy. It was really quite lovely!
I dropped to my knees as the thing gently sneezed.
“Hello Thing,” I said. “My name is Fred.”
“Can I be your friend?”
(True story)
The End.
Shawn L. Bird 