Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- cracks June 9, 2019

I’m slipping apart

Deep gut groaning,

inviserating split.

Your knife is sharp

and oh so subtle

No one sees the slicing

as pieces of me fall:

blood, tears and confusion.

Devotion’s greatest trick.

Betrayal by the longed for hope,

tenderly nurtured,

joyfully gathered to the heart.

Once before, protection pushed you out.

You said your sorries, cried for communication

and here we are again.

Cruelty masquerading as the heart I carried.

Pain pretending to be love.

No one else would be allowed in, after all this anguish.

Broken pieces of how I used to feel.

Wondering where the sweet creature disappeared to.

Mothers earn merit badges from the torture

of their children.

 

poem-wandering August 7, 2018

It is

It isn’t

Round and round

I can!

I can’t!

You do

You don’t

and trying

trying

trying

doesn’t make it easier

to pull your broken brain away

from turbulance

I don’t know you anymore

I don’t like you anymore

Loyalty keeps me doing

because I promised him

and you can’t help being broken

I know.

It is

It isn’t

Time ticks by

I try

I try

I try.

 

poem-is isn’t April 6, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:59 am
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It is.

It isn’t.

Me.

You.

A circle compounding compromises.

Conviction carries us.

I promise.

I pound.

I promise

I pound.

I paint

conviction

carrying

us.

It is.

It isn’t.

Promising.

 

(A poem for Dustin & Lyda, Jason & Kirindip.  These are characters in the current w.i.p. novel).

 

 

poem- honey December 2, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:11 pm
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Sculpting honey?

Pointless.

Shapes dissolve in moments,

dissappear in the gleaming

sweetness of now–

much like

memories

of you.

 

Confessions July 7, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:05 pm
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I am at a poetry retreat, and I have just realized I haven’t posted any new poetry in ages!  Here is one that was prompted by discussion around the table last night.


 

Men are afraid that women will laugh at them.

Women are afraid that men will kill them

~ Margaret Atwood

Confession:

Inside

she is laughing

at his wizened, flapping sword

Ever appreciative

it is not slashing, slicing, dividing

head from heart.

Confession:

Impalement is not a virtue in itself

ecstacy can take or leave it.

Confession:

She desires his desire,

not his possession.

 

poem- there October 14, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:46 am
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I’m crafting a world

and living in it.

You’re part of the narrative,

if only,

you were there.

 

poem-see June 12, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:28 am
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See the twisting silence

weaving between them;

pursed lips, downcast eyes,

See their knot tighten

further together, closer apart.

 

 
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