Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem-who are you, really? July 19, 2021

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:00 pm
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I’m a good person!

I don’t cheat

(well, except that test,

but it was an important one, I couldn’t afford to fail!

Oh, and with that girl at the bar that one time when

the wife was out of town, but that was her fault)

I don’t lie

(well, except to my mom, she couldn’t handle knowing

and would raise a fuss).

I don’t steal

(Hey, those pirate book and video sites aren’t stealing,

those folks don’t deserve to be paid for their work!)

I don’t drink too much

(that time doesn’t count, we were celebrating!)

I’m not violent

(you can’t say she didn’t deserve that black eye).

I’m a good person.

I’m just like you, right?

What does ‘good’ mean, anyway?

 

poem-where there’s smoke

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:14 am
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she left the window open

woke to ash on the couch

mountains are obscured

noon light is yellow

armageddon glow

our expressions of worry

furrowed brows

above our masks

(N95 now)

don’t ask about our stress levels

as we check the lightning tracker,

the live stream wildfire map.

After the pandemic

seems we don’t yet have the knack

of acceptance; get the bag

ready to go,

make sure we know where

to rendez-vous, pretend

all this is normal.

What more can we do?

Bless the fire fighters

as the map clicks to fire number

one thousand one hundred thirty two.

 

poem-last day June 24, 2021

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:53 am
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Just wisps of clouds dot the periwinkle sky

Faint breeze dancing among the leaves

Grads gathering, twelve at a time.

Four guests only. Strictly enforced by the

Ministry of Health. Bring five. Grad ends.

The tents in case of rain

Lake and hills in view.

Pandemic grads to walk across the grass

This graduation has so many things new

but something old:

Hand-shake in gown and cap.

Farewell, all our best wishes go with you.

 

Poem-Independence June 14, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:10 pm
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Related to a current meme about why people were more afraid of the women labelled as witches than of the slanderers and murders who killed them…

(Another rondelet. I’m having fun with them).

That witching vibe
Independent thought? Dangerous!
That witching vibe.
Patriarchy’s foul diatribe
Thrills at the thought to injure us
Has not a fear of killing us
That witching vibe.

 

poem-overturning June 11, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:29 am
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This time it is
exactly what I want to see.
This time it is
My priorities, not his.
Whatever I want life to be,
my choices and philosophy,
This time it is.

Another rondelet. The speaker of this poem has a bit of a declaration here! 🙂 I have met quite a few women over the years who’ve fought to overturn programming and embrace their independence.

 

poem-releasing June 10, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:48 pm
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I heard your name
calling to me from long ago.
I heard your name,
(Oh, that melancholy refrain!)
whispering words so soft and low,
memories I need to let go.
I heard your name.

This poetry form is called a ‘rondelet’ and plays with an A/B rhyme, lines of 4/8 syllables, and a repeated refrain (as you can see!).

 

poem-hubris June 3, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:46 pm
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We know

what’s best

Make the right decisions

Know the right culture

Have the right religion

Use the right words

No one else is as good as we are

It’s all black and white

Except for all that grey,

and all those other

rights.

 

playgrounds and graveyards May 31, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:29 pm
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The elders told you.
Trembling voices.
Feathers clutched for courage.
They told you of their sisters, brothers, and cousins
who did not come home.
Those who crept out at night and
walked through wilderness to return home.
Those who got sick and died.
Those who were beaten.
Those who were broken.
Those who were battered.
So many buried.
The elders told you how truth had been buried, too.


So many lost children.
Now 215 have been found.
Their bones are proof to the elders’ words.
Who is surprised?
Children buried in unmarked graves.
See what is also buried there:
Denial. Shame.
Voices rise in sorrow.
Now what will be done
to bring peace to the children who survived?
Grown with a burden of brokeness. Grief swallowed.
How will the elders’ trauma be relieved?

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This poem references the discovery of the mass grave of 215 children on the grounds of the Kamloops Residential School. Read an article about it here: https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/tk-eml%C3%BAps-te-secw%C3%A9pemc-215-children-former-kamloops-indian-residential-school-1.6043778

 

poem-blurred May 3, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:37 am
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Today

life is soft focus

foggy view.

Slow brain.

Whole body blurred,

translucent.

If someone took a photo

would I be a phantom?

 

poem-getting there April 30, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:20 am
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It’s easy to find.

You know where the old RCMP station was?
No? Well. So.

You go straight up the hill from there.
Turn left where the McGuires lived

Until what they used to call Riflerange Rd
No idea what they call it now.

Keep going until that house that used to
have a hair salon in the basement

Our place used to be a B and B.
You’ll see, we have a great view

We’re eagerly waiting for you!

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NaPoWriMo Prompt 30 was to write a poem giving directions. I used the style of direction giving most heard in Salmon Arm, where I live. All the old timers give directions based on where things used to be or what they used to be called. The re-naming (numbering) of streets, some 40 years ago has not sat well!

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