Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- no fantasy? no romance? December 1, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:21 pm
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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.

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poem-nefarious November 13, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:54 pm
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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

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:48 pm
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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

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:20 pm
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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

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:01 pm
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“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

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:03 pm
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Two days

Twice bereft

Two losses

barely found.

Possibility snatched away

leaves me

longing.

 

 

poem- Misty’s shoes June 3, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:11 pm
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Misty’s shoes

attended graduation,

tramping up and down the stairs,

standing at the podium as

name after name was read

each biography

each list of scholarships.

Dancing  for young people,

leaping off into the unknown.

Misty’s shoes were there,

celebrating a roomful of potential

that Misty will never know.

.

.

.

A few years ago on eBay I purchased a pair of stunning black and white spectator pumps (Listen Up Harlow by John Fluevog).  While corresponding with the seller, I was told that they were her deceased sister’s shoes.  Misty had passed away from cystic fibrosis.  I was touched by the story, and wrote a character named after her into the novel I was writing at the time.  Misty loved shoes and dancing and her passions fueled her story line in Grace Awakening Myth.   (GA Myth is still in editing and revisions. Not sure that sub-plot will make the cut, actually).  Thinking about Misty while wearing her shoes at my school’s grad this week, I remembered young people I knew who passed away far too young.

 

 
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