Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-listening October 8, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:14 pm
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I hear you in the rain

pouring over me



I’m drowning in you.

Upside down umbrella

beneath a drain spout.

See me tap dancing?

Oh, I’m singing

while you’re pouring

turning roads to light sucking ink.

I think the gutters overflow with you.

You’re sheets


water falls


you are an ocean.

I float.




poem-storm June 8, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:56 pm
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Another storm warning.

Cotton clouds turn into coal smoke,

Flashes splice the sky.

We’re drenched by pelting rain,

until it blows by again.

Wouldn’t it be nice

if the newscaster flashed

storm warnings

about flashes of temper

and drenching tears,

so we knew to stay indoors

or prepare our rain gear?


poem- rain May 27, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:40 pm
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We’re raining

damp permeates bones

sky slides claustrophobically close

Grey day





poem-mystery November 13, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:40 pm
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Listen to the rain

clicking against the windows

thudding on the roof

washing away whatever was waiting

yesterday, and cleaning for tomorrow.



poem- heaviness September 24, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:05 pm
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The mist in the hills

weighs heavily on my heart

The wind through the valley

blows bleakly on my brain

The rain from the grey

drips doggedly on my dreams.




It’s only Wed, but I am exhausted!  I’m sure this soggy weather isn’t helping


poem-night light August 20, 2014

All evening

the hills have been

illuminated by a

laser light show,

and now

the skies are


white mist

hides the hills,

enfolding us

as the heavens

flash and crash



poem-seasonal delusions November 15, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:32 pm
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It’s misty in the hills

Rain falls in spatters on the windshield

How can there be a Christmas Craft Fair

when there is no snow?


poem- grey September 28, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:46 pm
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The day is grey:

the sky washes the earth.

Dogs curled in tight balls of fur

are not tempted to inspect the outdoors.

We light the fireplace,

watch water streaming down the windows,

we dream of spring

as autumn taunts.




poem- summer storm August 12, 2013

Epic battle:

light and dark.

Musket muzzles flash

Light bayonets the hills

with slashing stabs.

In the concussion of the cannonade

Houses rattle.



So let’s discuss this poem.  Despite the nice circuitous connection of battle/rattle , I think ‘houses rattle’ is the weakest line in the poem, and ending with the weakest line is never a good thing.  You want a nice strong ending.  I started with ‘reverberation’ in the line (no houses at that point) which is perhaps better is some ways, though I felt too obvious a choice.  

Let’s workshop this.  What do you think?  What would you do to the last line to continue the battle metaphor, but convey the quaking ground and rattling windows?


haiku- After the rain August 4, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:32 pm
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