It’s all possible
deep stretched dreams
pushing through negativity
into it can be.
Ignore discouragement.
You can make it,
taking skill, faith, time,
mix with luck,
Do it.
poem-MIA October 9, 2019
I keep checking the email
Certain I’ve missed notification.
Maybe it’s time to accept
I missed the mark. Vexation.
Always the bridesmaid, never the bride
is better than missing the celebration.
When you’re sure this is the one,
anticipation’s crushed by negation.
poem-you did it May 15, 2019
for Tai
.
You’ve always been a mountain climber.
Sometimes climbing means tumbling to the valleys.
Sometimes it means diving into sparkling mountain lakes
and becoming entangled with weeds
that pull you down.
Who knew you could drown while climbing?
You’ve always been a mountain climber.
Sometimes every part of you aches for a break,
longs for the plateau.
Rest.
But you keep climbing,
because sometimes, when you stand on the summit,
see the world laid out before you
a carpet of overcoming,
you see all the opportunity;
you see you can fly.
poem- little steps January 28, 2019
Great dreams.
Big hopes.
Massive endeavours.
Long journeys.
All large things
take little steps.
Bit by bit
bite by bite
step by step.
War and Peace
started with one word
on the page.
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony
began with one note.
Huge
begins
small.
Just
begin.
poem- no fantasy? no romance? December 1, 2018
It is so sad
that you eschew fantasy and romance in your world.
Without fantasy, where is imagination? Where is spark? Where is possibility?
Without romance, where is connection? Where is life? Where is compatibility?
You, ‘realist’ are deluded.
Facing reality means seeing above, below, beyond, and through.
Recognizing the power of the metaphor.
Feeling the electricity of a touch, when your love has gone.
Celebrating what may be.
It means believing in hope.
A realist is a dead shell lapped upon the beach,
while a great ocean signs beside it and carries whales
and sailing ships off over the horizon.
You can still be sensible,
and see the magic of the world.
poem-nefarious November 13, 2018
For eighteen years,
each evening when I glance out my kitchen window,
I see my elderly neighbour
at work through his window.
Suddenly, this week,
his drapes are drawn.
What nefariousness is this?
What hidden adventures is this World War 2 spy
up to now, that require such secrecy?
The neighbourhood has become far
more interesting with this mystery.
poem-aftermath November 12, 2018
The day after
the wishes flow,
the possibilities drain away.
Futility crushes the mutibility of dreams,
but tomorrow is another day.
poem-shouting late October 27, 2018
She’s eighty-nine
and now she tells the story of rape,
of giving up a panopoly of dreams
for the baby boy.
(Shot gun wedding)
Love and happiness can’t be forced,
like sex.
Society forced her silence,
condemned divorce,
when she refused abuse,
and sought in the ashes of her dreams
for a phoenix.
Bitter choices,
dream fragments,
cobbled into a life,
grumbled about now.
Dream stealing beast,
a boy who wouldn’t hear no,
seven decades of curses
don’t erase the bitterness
of loss.
.
.
(true story)
poem-relief November 17, 2017
“No” is not always
a negative thing.
.
Sometimes it is
a sweet relief.
.
Sometimes “yes”
brings too much to do,
too much responsibility
too much accountability.
.
Sometimes “no”
breathes a melancholy sigh.
Thankfulness.
This is not the time.
poem-bereft August 8, 2017
Two days
Twice bereft
Two losses
barely found.
Possibility snatched away
leaves me
longing.
Shawn L. Bird 