Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-be happy pantoum November 7, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:02 pm
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Another demo pantoum written with an English class. 🙂

I wish we were happy

I wish we were glad

This poem will be quite sappy

But it will not be sad

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I wish we were glad

I wish we were silly

But it will not be sad

Though the weather is chilly

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I wish we were silly

That election is scary

Though the weather is chilly

The situation is hairy!

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That election is scary

But koalas are cute

The situation is hairy!

But I bought new boots!

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Koalas are cute

Mac and cheese comfort food

I bought new boots!

Folks, don’t be so rude!

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Mac and cheese comfort food

Make this poem quite sappy

Folks, don’t be so rude!

I wish we were happy

 

poem- walking in the sexy boots October 21, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:14 pm
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The morning skies were grey

but they saw the sashay

and knew it wasn’t a day

to stay that way, you

might construe something at play,

but my boots made the sky turn blue!

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FWIW- I was wearing my purple velvet, sparky embossed leather and black patent leather Fluevog Atria boots today. No such thing as ‘too much.’ 😉

Photo by Shawn L. Bird on October 21, 2020. Image may contain: one or more people, shoes and boots.

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(Ignore any ads added by WordPress. They’re not endorsed by me, unless, of course, you see a Fluevog ad! In which case, very much endorsed. 🙂 )

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poem- walk on a foggy day September 30, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:28 am
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The clouds have come to Earth,

obscuring our panorama

narrowing the perspective

until the view is simply you and me:

this nebulous emergence,

hope and mystery.

 

poem-special delivery August 31, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:14 pm
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Two raw hazelnuts on the back deck.
Delivery from a rat? a squirrel? a passing crow?
I guess that’s something we’ll never know.

 

poem-flick May 28, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:51 pm
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Strike the match;

light that candle;

defeat the dark.

Spark.
Sputter.

That tiny wick

won’t brighten

anyone’s despair.

Spark.
Sputter.

Little wicks are a waste of wax.

Candle melt-down.

Find a wick you can trim

For light that won’t dim.

 

 

poem- suspicious April 3, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:26 pm
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Somebody is messing around

sprinkling snow on the ground in April!

Too late for the fool. There should be rules about this!

We’re stuck inside, forgetting to wash, dress, or sleep.

Dealing with stress by baking and crafting, making new courses.

Things are seriously off-track, keeping distance with my hacking coughs,

but then outside the window, the final straw: snow.

That’s it.

This is shit.

 

poem- I planted them a decade ago April 1, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:15 pm
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What an unexpected gift

revealed by retreating snow:

crocuses planted so long ago

Finally bloom when w most need

symbols of hope.

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(True story.  I planted a couple of dozen crocuses into the front lawn in the early 2000s when we first bought this house.  The bloomed on their own for three or four years before they stopped – likely victims of hubby’s herbicide.  Suddenly, after so many years, 2 popped up this year!)

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poem-quarantine March 14, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:45 pm
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I stay at home on quarantine;
I am not feeling serene.
Mexican vacation’s been
cancelled, and I was so keen

to escape from all the snow.
Caribbean sunset glow?
Basking on a sandy shore?
Travel’s bad right now, I know.  😦

We already had t. p.
no panic necessary.
Asthma inhaler ready.
Home holiday with hubby.

I will unpack my suitcase
Stuff the new swimsuit some place,
Wash your hands! Don’t touch your face!
Hope we all survive with grace.

(A poem on life in the COVID19 pandemic)

 

 

 

 

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poem- impatiently February 28, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:49 am
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If I refuse to wear my boots,

choose a light jacket instead of that coat,

keep my feet on gravel, ignore snow piles,

can I force winter to go?

Beguile spring with my wiles?

 

Poem-spies January 30, 2020

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:49 pm
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A Facebook found poem, with thanks to Liz.
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Seven magpies
lined up on the roof
across from my office,
watching me.
Creepy.
They are not a poem.
This is not a poem.
Not at all.
Creepy magpie
spy
poem.
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