Quiet crept
through rustling leaves,
soft snowfall.
Quiet crept
through murmurs heard
under our hearts.
Quiet crept
through gentle touches
sweet sighs.
Quiet crept
through me
to you.
poem-going November 18, 2014
You’re going and now I think
of all the things that could have been
and all the things that should have been
and all the things that would have been
if only you’d been forthcoming
before you left.
poem- story place November 7, 2014
My words
want a place
up high, where they
can fly in on pieces of sky,
and settle into story.
My words
want a place
where the stripe of the highway
guides them here and away.
My words
want to sit in
molten sunbeams
simmering as ideas, waiting
to bubble into book life.
My words,
wish the window wasn’t
so far away, and the world
outside did not beckon
with so many responsibilities.
My words
want a place
where time stops,
where only they and I exist
and together, we mold worlds.
poem-ache November 6, 2014
There
in the span
across the back
your agony rests.
There
in the flesh
of your arms
your pain sits.
There
in the curve
of your neck
your anger abides.
There
in the well
of your heart
your recovery dreams.
poem- were November 1, 2014
It was woven
like light
dappling between the leaves
of our maple tree,
your voice, soft in memory,
searching for the heart of me.
It was woven
like lithe
subtleties between the grease
of our maigre feast,
your voice, lost in murmurings
purging forth our history.
It was woven
like life
sampling between the griefs
of our marble stele
your voice, wafts in every
yearning it exhorts of me.
.
.
I may be stretching your vocabulary with this one! Here’s some help:
maigre- religious diet without the flesh or juice of animals
stele- pillar, marker, tombstone (pron. like STEEL-y)
poem- fight for rights #Iwillholdtheline August 29, 2014
I will fight for what’s right.
I will demand my government obeys the law.
I will fight for what’s right.
I will stand in defence of contracts illegally torn.
I will fight for what’s right.
I will not blink when it threatens
I will fight for what’s right.
I will shout about injustice and lies
I will fight for what’s right.
I will shame them before the world.
I will fight for what’s right.
I will hold the line.
.
.
Our British Columbia government illegally tore up our contracts in 2002 when our current premier was Minister of Education. We have fought for the last 12 years against this injustice. Two provincial Supreme Court decisions ruled against the government, stating that they violated the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The decision demanded the government reimburse us for what they took away. As well, the United Nation’s International Labour Organization ruled against their flouting of treaties and international agreements. We are on strike because a government that acts illegally must be held to account.
The most recent Supreme Court ruling was in February, 2014. You can read the ruling here. You will see constant references to how the government bargained in bad faith, provoked strikes, and acted illegally. They are still behaving the same way, so we are fighting to preserve fair bargaining for all working people, because if they destroy us, they will destroy every union in the province. You should care about this. You should care a lot.
poem- where August 13, 2014
When you went away
full of dreams and plans
we waved your plane off
and wondered how reality
could possibly live up to
your unreasonable expectations.
We let you go to find your way
and when nothing is
what you thought it’d be
We have faith that
you will figure out
the reason,
and create reasonable
reality
for yourself.
poem-there August 9, 2014
There
in that alley
was the beginning
of dreams
of possibility
of wishes.
There
in that alley
was where imagining
became the tool
for all that was to be.
There
in that alley
was the first place
I was me.
poem-drowning July 15, 2014
Word came
that the ship was lost:
No survivors.
Her beloved
perished amid a storm
In her dreams
she sees him
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
swimming
sinking
sinking
sinking
drifting
drifting
drifting
on her
tears.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I suppose this could be about Echo in the Bone by Diana Gabaldon, but in fact, it came from listening to The Lost Wife by Alyson Richman. It also reminds me of a family story.
My grandfather was a ship captain on the St. Lawrence Seaway. One day, a knock came on the door, and my grandmother was told gravely that his ship had sunk, and he was lost. This would no doubt have been far more traumatic, had grandpa not been sitting in the living room at the time.
poem- mystery July 12, 2014
You are
an uncommon mystery
that baffles the sleuths
You are
a melodious litany
of spiritual truths
You are
a sonorous villainy
raising the roofs
You are
in my periphery
and have been since youth.
.
.
.
.
.
Don’t ask. Sometimes I don’t have a clue what they’re really about, either. 😉
Shawn L. Bird 