Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-perception is reality May 9, 2015

Oh, I know the row you hoe

is dreary and full of woe!

or so you are inclined to think

but we are not defined by your narrow ink

We see you fear to be seen as less

You shout. you rave, you wave distress

It’s not about what we do, dear,

We are not the problem here.

We watch serene, your freak out scene.

We see your strengths, your skills, your care.

We know you’re kind and very fair.

You’re really great. Don’t be irate!

You perceive attacks where there are none.

There’s no one talking at your back.

You do not seek to clarify,

Oh, my, how you leap to conclusions

Each based simply on illusions.

I know perception makes reality

but I encourage you to find serenity

Ultimately, you can not be

great when you can’t see what true,

and when people are contentedly accepting you.

 

poem-poetesses May 4, 2015

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:58 pm
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A little nod to writer Diana Gabaldon and the scene in “Virgins” between Jamie and Ian (see the post a couple of days ago) which suddenly seem relevant!

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They think

the words get in their heads and drive them mad

Those poetesses

let passionate words escape

and wind around the unsuspecting.

Mad poetesses:

bursting flowers

buzzing bees

desires dripping with rhyme and metaphor

What fornicating do they get up to?

It can’t just be words that fill them.

Can it?

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Here’s the scene from “Virgins” referenced:

“I thought ye’d be up to your ears in whores and poetesses in Paris.”

“Poetesses?” Jamie was beginning to sound amused. “What makes ye think women write poetry? Or that a woman that writes poetry would be wanton?”

“Well, o’ course they are. Everybody kens that. The words get into their heads and drive them mad, and they go looking for the first man who—”

“Ye’ve bedded a poetess?” Jamie’s fist struck him lightly in the middle of the chest. “Does your mam ken that?”

“Dinna be telling my mam anything about poetesses,” Ian said firmly. “No, but Big Georges did, and he told everyone about her. A woman he met in Marseilles. He has a book of her poetry, and read some out.”

“Any good?”

“How would I ken? There was a good bit o’ swooning and swellin’ and bursting goin’ on, but it seemed to be to do wi’ flowers, mostly. There was a good wee bit about a bumblebee, though, doin’ the business wi’ a sunflower. Pokin’ it, I mean. With its snout.”

There was a momentary silence as Jamie absorbed the mental picture.

“Maybe it sounds better in French,” he said.

Diana Gabaldon “Virgins” in Dangerous Women George R R Martin, Gardner Dozois (eds)

 

poem- for Brian #Outlander April 27, 2015

Brian Dubh

They miss you.

Shredded hearts pile blame

Lash out from pain

They’ve lain you in your grave,

Brian Dubh,

but while they grieve

still you live

in them.

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A little Outlander poem today, in honour of ep 112 Lallybroch.  Dubh is pronounced “Doo”. It means ‘black’. Jamie Fraser’s father was known as “Black Brian” for his colouring. If you’re only meeting these character through the TV series, you may not know this.  

 

poem- see love April 23, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:26 am
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As these lines came into my head, they came on a suspiciously familiar tune, so I think of these as song lyrics, and I will have to see if my harp and I can turn them into a song at some point.  In the meantime, they’re a poem.  (I wouldn’t hold your breath for the music, just so you know).

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You don’t look.

You don’t see.

You don’t hear.

You don’t speak

words she needs you to speak.

You’re not listening

when her heart weeps.

You don’t hear.

You don’t hear!

Please come here.

You must look.

You must see

what she’s trying desperately

to help you see.

You must hear

how she’s struggling with her fears.

You must speak,

whisper love,

for that’s all she truly seeks.

Look.

See.

Hear.

Speak

Love.

 

poem- Outlander terzanelle- time April 16, 2015

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,poem — Shawn L. Bird @ 6:40 pm
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She falls through time

he’s everywhere

assumes a crime.

She’s gone to where

her heart finds home;

leaving  despair

he waits by stones

then moves along,

lost while she roams.

New life, new song

Heart home, the past

She learns she’s strong

her love slips from her grasp

tears her  in agony

The question must be asked

Is it him, or is it me?

For this is destiny

A journey through time

to find her love sublime.

Today’s NaPoWriMo.net prompt is to write a terzanelle: a cross between a villanelle and a terza rima.  I chose to write on Outlander, a little awkwardly! lol  But I only have half an hour to spare for this, so don’t be too demanding.  😉  The rhyme scheme is

ABA
bCB
cDC
dED
eFE
fAFA or fFAA.

 

poem for #napowrimo- fourteener April 3, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:00 pm
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So, I was asked how marriage lasts, how years flow into years?

Oh, I was asked how marriage lasts, how do you move past fears?

Yes, I was asked how marriage lasts, how can you trust that long?

When I was asked how marriage lasts, I pondered what goes wrong.

I think how long a marriage lasts is not about romance

It’s much more: it’s faith and trust and determined acceptance.

It’s about having the faith that no matter what fate brings

You’re sticking together like the promise made on those rings

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http://www.napowrimo.net/day-three/

This prompt was for a poem with lines of fourteen syllables, ideally in iambic heptameter.  My iambs are a complete mess, but here’s what I’ve got! 🙂

 

micropoem-taxes March 29, 2015

Filed under: Poetry,Teaching — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:48 pm
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Doing the taxes hurts my synapses.

All the receipts for exemptions

I will greet (sweet redemption!)

as brilliant sun, shining to my refund!

.

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POETRY LESSON:

Playing with rhyme today.

Internal rhyme occurs two ways, either inside one line (taxes/synapses, greet/sweet) or inside two consecutive lines (receipts/greet).  

End rhyme: exemption/redemption.

Imperfect rhyme: taxes/synapses, receipts/greet, sun/refund.  

Feminine rhyme: exemption/redemption.  (Rhyme over 2+ syllables, ’cause women are more complex, of course) 🙂

Masculine rhyme: greet/sweet.  (Rhyme on a single syllable).

 

poem- palms

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:49 pm
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A moment of celebration

raise your hands, wave the palms

Palms together, clap your hands,

No palmistry to understand

when they raise you up

they’ll drop you down.

Get ready to sup and pray some.

Silver’s exchanged for a soul

just thirty little pieces.

The whole world pivots around

this moment of celebration,

before the coming devastation.

But after grief,

Relief. and

Peace.

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A little Palm Sunday poem for you.

 

 

poem- gone March 27, 2015

Filed under: Poetry,Reading — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:14 pm
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There was no way to stay.

Whatever choice was made

was bound to be wrong,

because this song we create

requires we pay again and again

for our harmonic

dissonance.

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Still reading Jodi Picoult’s Mercy.   Do you write poems for the characters you read about?

 

poem- 3 things March 25, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:07 am
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On her blog @SarahDoughty prompted:

Tell me a story covering three things:

  1. a promise
  2. why you write
  3. a passion

This was my response.  Not exactly a story, but you know, brevity is an art! 🙂  What’s your response?  Go check out her blog and leave a thought.

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I do; I do
release the stories,
my dreams of you.

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POETRY LESSON:

I feel like I need to take this moment to point out what is going on in this poem, because while there are only 3 lines and eleven words, they are woven tightly using a variety of poetic technique.  First, while each line responds in order to Sarah’s 3 prompts, they also read as one sentence, so there are overlapping meanings.  Secondly, there is a pattern of 4-3-4 words.  Thirdly, repetition in the first line is quite emphatic, but provides a rhyme that tightens the ending with you.  

Fourthly, I get seriously carried away with the sound devices assonance and consonance, binding each component of the words to their fellows.  There are three vowels sounds repeated, the only out-lier is the ‘o’ in stories. e.g. I, I, my; do, do, you; release, stories, dreams; the, of.  (Reminder: assonance is repetition of a vowel sound, NOT a letter).  The consonant sounds also repeat with do, do, dreams; release, stories, dreams; release, stories, dreams; my dreams.  The the and of  are both *fricatives, and so while not exactly the same sound, the brain hears them as ‘close enough.’

Finally, that leaves  only the ‘l’ is without a partner, except visually–because I,I,l look the same, don’t they?  And of course, the lonely o from stories, visually matches the o’s in do.  In other words, every component of each word is tied somehow to the rest of the poem.  Absolutely everything fits like a tight puzzle.

Did I do any of this intentionally?  No, actually.  I just responded to the prompt, tidied it up until I liked it, and then when I copied it here, I noticed how tight it was.

*Fricatives in English are f,v, s (both s/z sounds), th (both θ and ð).