You,
the mechanical miracle worker,
refuse to accept extermination.
Armed with Youtube videos
and an amp metre
you search for solutions,
find the secret place
frozen peas hide,
discover three decades of debris.
Determination pays:
You sit back, satisfied,
when hum and chilled air,
declare life.
Death defeated.
Obliteration blocked.
Cold box immaculate in revived vitality.
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Remember
the necklace you gave me.
Four golden strands I wanted to love
for your sake.
Every time I wore it,
it turned into a tangled disaster,
wrapped up in itself.
So like us.
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A Facebook found poem, with thanks to Liz.
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See the tense bodies, tentative smiles,
step through the door into new beginnings,
slip into a new desk, a new view,
ready?
Stretch understandings,
begin again!
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The moon lingers in blue sky,
listening to Styrofoam™ squeaking boots
on crispy, cold snow.
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You are small
boisterous
black
bouncing
excitement,
eager for the ball,
but
the snow is deep
and when you chase
you
disappear
into a crystalline abyss.
Such gleeful eyes
burst from the bank
and shake off
that which buried you.
Snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow
snow snow snow
snow snow snow snow
snow snow snow snow snow
snow snow snow snow snow snow
snow snow snow car snow snow snow
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(It just occurred to me, that I don’t remember if I put a brush in my car yet this year. Fingers crossed! ’cause there’s a lot of snow falling outside my window!)
The fog is thick today
both hovering over the lake
and in my head,
rendering me slow-witted,
dull,
fatigued.
Does the lake feel the same?
The lake is there,
just over the hill. Our view is
stolen by lilacs.
View from our living room window. In the winter, we can see the lake. Just barely. Darn lilacs.
What invisible edge
slit skin on finger tip,
inserted pain into this day?
Blood dripped.
Every typed word
reminds me
danger lurks everywhere.
I face the consequences
alone.
Shawn L. Bird 