(Sometimes the breakdown of a relationship is not a surprise to folks watching from the outside).
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When I met his eyes
.
I saw into the depths
saw his emptiness
unfaithfulness.
He knew I knew
His fake jokes couldn’t mask
the pain he’d cause.
He looked away,
alarms his charms didn’t sway me.
I could see.
They believed
his false smile
piled on adoration
while he crafted
mutual ruination.
She
has strength beyond
will rebuild,
move along.
What wind brings
Don’t wrap this silence in your memory
Gather the fallen
leaves
Your departure: a beginning.
Going means coming to understand
Summer wildfires
Sometimes ashes fall
Sometimes rains wash everything
away
Sometimes snow rises to the eaves
Don’t wrap this silence in your memory.
There’s something new on the breeze.
Dark dusky sky
Gulls cry
Gliding by, wings wiping at air
Diving down to thieve
Thoughts of tomorrow
Wasting no worries
On what might not be.
Perhaps, this may be
the last back to school autumn
With next year’s falling leaves,
will I too be leaving
on the breeze ?
COLD COMFORT
(by Shawn Bird and the 2021 En 11-A class)
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Something burns on a winter night
I smell the smoke and see the fire
Reflections on the snow are bright
The dreams to which I aspire
.
I smell the smoke and see the fire
What hopes linger in the dark
The dreams to which I aspire
Rise to the sky in flickering sparks
.
What hopes linger in the dark
Cradling cocoa in my hands
Rise to the sky in flickering sparks
My heart longs to dance
.
Cradling cocoa in my hands
Warm steam tickling my nose
My heart longs to dance
And waken my frost-bitten toes
.
Warm steam tickling my nose
The family encircles the flames
And waken my frost-bitten toes
Relaxing after winter games
.
The family encircles the flames
Reflections on the snow are bright
Relaxing after winter games
Something burns on a winter night
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A pantoum is written in quatrain stanzas with lines 2 and 4 of each stanza repeating as lines 1 and 3 of the subsequent stanza until the last stanza, which circles back to the beginning, with line 2 being line 3 of the first stanza and line 4 being the first line of the poem. There are no rhythm rules so line lengths can vary. It is amazing how impactful this repetition proves to be.
If you try it, do post a link to your pantoum in the comment section!
A POTATO FORK POEM
(for Brenda)
.
Fellow forks, beware!
Do stay away from here!
Brenda takes us
then she breaks us.
Oh tremble! Feel fear!
Come only if you dare!
.
Digging rocks and boulders
(Putting bodies in the ground?)
Brenda will abuse you
Aggressively use you
Your handle’s snapping sound
Means you won’t get older.
.
Forks, do NOT come near!
Get the fork out of here!
I heard your name
calling to me from long ago.
I heard your name,
(Oh, that melancholy refrain!)
whispering words so soft and low,
memories I need to let go.
I heard your name.
This poetry form is called a ‘rondelet’ and plays with an A/B rhyme, lines of 4/8 syllables, and a repeated refrain (as you can see!).
NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 21 was to use repetition modelled after http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/poem/2008/11/there_was_a_man_of_double_deed.html.
There was a girl who spoke the words
That wrapped the world, but went unheard
When the girl began to dream
T’was like the universal scheme
When the scheming came to naught
T’was like a void that time forgot
When the void it opened wide
T’was like a cave with home inside
When home called loudly, she went in
T’was like relief flooding within.
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(ignore ads following)
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Once, masks were metaphorical;
pandemics were historical.
Now, cortisol flood makes us
fatter every day.
Isolating’s creating a nation of moles,
nervous of leaving our holes,
as each wave proves more deadly,
We’re wishing consequences on anti-maskers
and anti-vaxxers: be sacrifices for your cause,
carry a card that you’re happy to
leave hospital beds for those who
take this seriously, those
who sacrifice comfort for society.
We’ll try to survive by masking insecurities,
and wait eagerly for our vaccines,
praying variant strains, don’t over-strain us.
Masking anxiety until we can
Breathe easier again.
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NaPoWriMo Day 6. Another day ignoring the official prompt ’cause I had other stuff in my mind. Weird how often I’m playing with rhyme this week.
Oh, yeah.
I used to gleam.
Shining sparkling day-glo shimmer
You know what I mean?
But Covid, man.
It’s worn me out.
Dulled my bright-light
What’s this exhaustion about?
It’s just going to work,
same as before
Just wearing a mask
washing hands, washing hands, and washing some more.
What’s so tiring about that?
I have absolutely no clue
But I’m heading to bed now at dinner time.
How are you?
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#NaPoWriMo Day 1. The official prompt from napowrimo.net was a video that triggered my TBI sensory over-load so I couldn’t watch it. 
I’ve come home from work, and again it’s not even 6 p.m. and I’m ready to crawl into bed with an eye mask, a heating pad, and an audio book. I can’t believe how exhausted I am all the time now! How’s a girl supposed to get poetry written, let alone books and stories! Arg. I hope you’re feeling less exhausted.
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Ignore any ads below. Unless they’re for Fluevog shoes, I don’t endorse them!
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Shawn L. Bird 