Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-what’s to do? April 9, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:19 am
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One voice shrill above the babble:

WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING!

Oh girl,

I hear you.

What’s happening, indeed.

How do we hold our pieces together?

*buy string

*wrap a reminder around my finger: “it will be okay”

*send a card: Thinking of you

*put on makeup

*video call

*write a poem

*read a book

*have a nap

*roll in blankets with the dog

*sing loudly to the radio

*hunt for daffodils

*listen to the chickadees

*fill the feeder, black oil sunflowers are their favourite.

*be gentle with myself when I inevitably

*fall apart

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Today’s NoPoWriMo prompt is to write a To Do list.
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poem-fixing December 3, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:32 pm
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It’s not obvious

that the fix is helping.

The image is blurry and bulges strangely.

What faith is required when the cure

feels worse than the injury!

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My vision therapy glasses have arrived. Yikes. Not sure how I’m going to manage with months of this! How can something that makes my head hurt so much actually help in the long term? Fingers crossed!

 

poem- bad days November 29, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:01 pm
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When it’s a bad day,

the pain is there with waking.

Constriction or stabbing,

nausea or aching;

it fills the head until there is nothing in the world

but the hopeless frustration,

that I will never be well again.

When it’s a bad day,

there are no conversations,

no outings or errands,

only holding the head,

taking another pill,

and praying tomorrow will be

a better day.

 

poem-gains and losses November 28, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:32 am
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How hard the fight for gains,

wading through mire,

battling the blurred words,

crumbling beneath the crushing pressure.

Surrender.

Another day, perhaps a gain

of minutes of wellness.

Don’t over-do when the body is able

to accommodate desire to do more than

an errand or two before succumbing.

Daily battles.

How goes the war?

I cannot fathom a positive outcome any more.

 

 

poem-forgiveness November 4, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:45 am
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This is forgiveness.

Left alone, forgotten, until you

became a dessicated husk.

Discovered, remorse poured on you,

and you rested, recovering,

absorbing all you needed to heal.

One year.

Regret poured onto you.

Two years.

Faith surrounded you.

Three years

You offered a single bloom to give us hope.

Another year.

Patience.  Trust.

This is what time and forgiveness bring:

full flowering!

Ah, the anticipation of your full celebration

makes me dizzy.

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20181104_103441[1].

True story. Took my Christmas Cactus outside to enjoy some summer sun (2014?). Forgot it there.  Come fall, it was a wizened shell.  It’s taken years to recover, but it HAS! What a metaphor for tragedy in our lives and the patience we need with our recovery.

 

 

poem- sit April 3, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:40 am
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Isn’t it

lovely to just sit

some days

and watch the world go by,

just spying and rumination

without any kind of expectation.

Isn’t it

lovely to sit

for just a little bit.

 

poem-breath time June 25, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:59 pm
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Time for breath

at last.

Breathe in freedom

from responsibilities,

to anyone but myself.

Inhale inspiration

Exhale exhaustion

Breathe free.

 

poem-moment June 15, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:46 pm
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In a moment

everything she thought she’d be

was sliced away.

In a moment

simple expectations yielded

to new arrays.

In a moment

opportunity seized her hand

to her dismay.

In a moment

foolish disappointments

were child’s play.

In a moment

her entire future was pulled

onto a new pathway.

 

 

poem-realities May 4, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:44 pm
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It’s hard to love you

when you shred me,

slice my skin on the sharp tips

of those needle teeth.

It’s hard to love you

when you track mud,

make puddles, and leave

stinking pellets behind you.

It’s hard to love you

but your eyes twinkle,

and your tail wags

and you keep trying to climb into my lap

It’s hard to love you

but the hard things are worthwhile.

I’m building a love story

with training and time.

 

poem-ready January 23, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:55 pm
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You’re ready to go,

bouncing on that bed,

tired of physio, doctors, bad food,

and a four bed room.

You want the quiet privacy of home

and worked hard to earn it.

You’re ready.

 

 
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