Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-torn February 1, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:59 am
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There at the bottom of the bag

is that precious photo

of the beloved man, now gone.

You have torn it into shreds,

torn my respect for you,

torn my love of you,

torn my heart in two.

It was not enough that he adored

and worshipped you?

You were blinder than him,

though he had the account with CNIB.

Your bitterness is poison

and I will not drink it.

 

poem-differences January 24, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:11 pm
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An invitation is made when the bosom

appears bulging into the neckline,

his gaze is grabbed and as she walks away

she pulls him to his feet to trail after her,

eager for the game.

.

Her instigation is subtle.

He appears at the stair,

tips his head toward the bedroom and waits.

If he’s ignored, he offers another tip.

And if she decides to follow him,

she will do so with a sense of irritation

that he doesn’t offer invitations

so much as commands,

and she’s pretty sure she didn’t actually

promise to obey.

 

 

poem-vacant January 19, 2016

Filed under: Friendship,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:05 pm
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How strange

that this space that was always filled by you

is vacant now.

Some time,

I don’t know when,

you stopped paying rent and disappeared.

Now the corner where you lived

has fallen into disrepair

and when I look for what used to be

I see only

moldy fragments in the space

that was yours.

 

poem-wear January 8, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:20 am
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Remember how you’d mock him

tell us his weaknesses, laugh about him.

Remember how you voiced your petty irritations

in every letter or conversation?

He would never utter a word against you,

as you wore him down, year after year.

Water on stone.  Cutting through bedrock.

And now she writes constant words of joy in him,

gushes over him like a waterfall,

and he pools around her with pleasure.

It’s a relief to see his happiness, someone appreciating him.

I watch and wonder whether you wish you’d chosen

better words, or whether you savour being alone?

.

.

.

I could have written this about so many people I know or know of.  It’s such a common pattern.   One sows seeds of one’s own destruction.

 

poem-vampire August 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:19 pm
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I hadn’t noticed before, but you’re a vampire.

You charm people, but when they get close to you

you suck the life out of them.

A succubus eating through relationships,

and now you’re clinging to that child

as a tool to make that old man stay

while you drain him, too.

I’m glad some of them got away.

 

poem-going July 19, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:47 am
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He’s going.

I feel him stretching out

like old elastic on the tops of pantyhose.

How old are your pantyhose?

That’s not the point.

You need to refresh your pantyhose, seriously

that elastic is good for a decade at least.

Oh forget I said it.  He’s going.  I can feel him slipping away.

Like pantyhose falling off your hips if they’re so old the elastic is brittle?

Well, yes.

I have some elastic lace.  We can sew it onto the pantyhose.  They’ll be like new.

It’s not about the pantyhose.

No.  It’s about the elastic.

No. It’s about the leaving.

You know, if you put a pair of panties over the pantyhose, it will keep them up.

Like a hug.

Exactly like a hug.  Sometimes the pantyhose work down a bit and are uncomfortable, but they stay up.

How do you know these things?

Oh.  We all have our emergency strategies.

Emergency.

Definitely.

Hmm.  Right.  Thanks.

 

 

poem- stretch July 14, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:56 am
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and that is beginning

and that is ending

and that is continuity

and that is blessing

and that is leaving

and that is receiving

and that is you

and that is me

and that is we

 

poem- cat woman May 26, 2014

She slashed him.

.

Pain scratched and yowled around his brain,

longing for palliation.

He saw compassion and affection in your eyes

wrapped his hands across your neck and

in the explosion of  agonized ecstasy,

you choked down his hurt.

.

She twitched her fingers.

.

With his backward gaze,

he saw anguish curling lithely behind your eyes.

You saw his pitying relief, even as his pain

purred so loudly in your head

it blocked the words

he should have said.

.

.

.

This one is for Amber

 

poem- 11710 April 23, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:12 am
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I dreamt of you

for eleven thousand

seven hundred

and ten nights.

You spoke in

waking dreams.

You whispered

in the blackness,

called across the miles:

Hold on.

I’m here for you.

Stay.

You have commitments.

But after

eleven thousand

seven hundred

and ten nights

you called

to tell me

those words did not

apply to you.

Hold on.

I’m here for you.

Stay.

You have commitments!

I said to you,

but it was too late by then.

I dreamt of you

for eleven thousand

seven hundred

and ten nights,

until I learnt that

you weren’t really there

at all.

 

 

 

poem- and April 21, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:00 pm
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She saw it in his eyes

and

tilted her head modestly

hiding her smile

while he tried desperately to

catch her attention.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

extended her left hand

to accept the ring,

the sign of promise.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

handed back the ring

letting him go

no regrets.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

welcomed him beside her,

his fears conquered,

stood at the altar,

moved into the future.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

held the babies close

while he gushed

about the woman he admired

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

let him grieve the loss

as they left behind

wishful thinking

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

embraced their passion

commitment

longevity.

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

each time he was broken

she brought out the glue

to piece him back together

held him tightly

.

She saw it in his eyes

and

let him be,

let all enfold,

and

it was

fine.

 

 

 
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