The next adventure
awaits the sunrise.
Have faith it’ll be better
than you surmise.
poem- next September 7, 2015
The next adventure
awaits the sunrise.
Have faith it’ll be better
than you surmise.
poem-curses August 1, 2015
When very riled my dad would curse
“Sugar!” he’d cry with vehemence.
Remembering now makes me sigh,
t’was a perfect curse for such a sweet guy.
poem- sad July 18, 2015
Why doesn’t the smile on your lips
show in a twinkle in your eyes?
What false bravado are you bearing
with that expression that tells lies?
poem- in the dung heap May 8, 2015
Your displeasure wafts off you like
the shimmering waves of a manure pile in July.
You reject optimism and trust.
You will let no sunshine disturb your dung beetles.
poem- really? March 9, 2015
I thought I knew
what was coming next,
but all I know
is nothing is what I expect.
.
.
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www.shawnbird.com/poetic-diversity-project
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poem-expansion February 19, 2015
Swelling protectively
Guard against weakness
Pretend to be bigger
Ache inside.
poem for Jack February 13, 2015
This poem was sent to me by my father-in-law, following the notice about Dusty’s euthanasia today. It’s so lovely I thought I’d share it with you. The author, Christopher Tatchell Winter, was my husband’s 2X great grandfather. I will check, but I believe it would have been written around 1900. (Ignore the way WordPress mangled the spacing in the first stanza).
.
.
Dear, dear little Jack, my companion & friend
Few now are my years, soon cometh the end
And I thought to have had you until I depart
But no more will I lessen the pain of my heart
My dear little dog, so faithful & true
I never shall know another like you
Much that passes for love may be but a cheat
But your love was constant & full & complete
No more will you meet me & run half a mile
To leap in my arms & my sorrow beguile
If but for a moment it then would depart
And sunshine & gladness would enter my heart
Oh, dear little Jack, I call you in vain
But why should I sorrow, why should I complain
It can’t bring you back, I know that is true
And yet all the same I will sorrow for you
And now at my door, you rest in your grave
And over it many a flower shall wave
In winter the snow on it softly shall fall
But no more will you answer & come to my call
.
The sketch of a Winter dog, presumably Jack:
poem- weathered December 26, 2014
Is that rain or is it snow?
The weather out there doesn’t know.
But it’s coming quickly through the air,
so I won’t be going anywhere.
Shawn L. Bird 