Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- no fantasy? no romance? December 1, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:21 pm
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It is so sad

that you eschew fantasy and romance in your world.

Without fantasy, where is imagination? Where is spark? Where is possibility?

Without romance, where is connection? Where is life? Where is compatibility?

You, ‘realist’ are deluded.

Facing reality means seeing above, below, beyond, and through.

Recognizing the power of the metaphor.

Feeling the electricity of a touch, when your love has gone.

Celebrating what may be.

It means believing in hope.

A realist is a dead shell lapped upon the beach,

while a great ocean signs beside it and carries whales

and sailing ships off over the horizon.

You can still be sensible,

and see the magic of the world.

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poem – midnight April 24, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:03 am
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In the black room,

the light from the

DVD player claims

it’s 12:00.

12:01.

12:02.

Every minute

counting down to you.

12:03

Are you dreaming of me?

 

poem-butter October 11, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:30 pm
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She studies his torso,

surveys lines and curves,

tracks

sinews

.  and

.    flesh,

melts,

wishes she was butter:

s p r e a d   o u t ,

simmering,

glistening

in those crevices,

turning into warm caramel

within his embrace.

 

poem- streets June 16, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:32 am
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The streets are not the same

but they still echo with the memory

of our steps.

I still hear your laughter

as we held hands and ran through the rain.

Ever after, I hummed Neil Sedaka on that street

and contemplated surrealism.

Decades later,

I can still hear our laughter.

 

poem- swing May 27, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:50 am
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In the photograph, you are on a swing in city park,

the yellow paint on the support bar is worn and flaking,

you grip the chain, suspended on the tiny rubber seat

your tall man body mashed.

You’re smirking so wide your dimple dances with the light in your eyes

Our first French kiss lingered in the air,

as our future flashed fireworks over your head.

.

.

This photo sits on my desk, and makes me smile every day.

 

poem- enticed May 3, 2015

Filed under: Poetry,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:00 am
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She leaves the wine bottle in the bottom desk drawer

undoes two buttons on her white blouse,

French cuffed, of course.  Lace peeks out.

Jeweled pendant lies between her breasts, the chain

offers a direction.

She stands, displacing gravity to expand the view.

Her black pumps click on the linoleum in the hall.

She pretends to talk on her cell phone,

pausing by his open door; her chest rises on a

tingling laugh she knows he won’t resist.

Her black pencil skirt covers the assets tightly,

in taunting style,

“See you later, then!” she tells her imaginary

phone companion,

as she strolls to the photo copier room,

trailing temptation behind her

without a backwards glance.

.

.

(A poem based on a new novel project).

 

poem-nesting April 2, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:33 pm
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The nest is empty

and without the chicks holding them together

some birds fly in different directions.

Job done.

So sad,

for others find the absence of young

brings far more joy in one another

than they could find while struggling

to satisfy the demands of youth.

The empty nest is the next gentle chapter

where romance can thrive again,

when laughing songs of

swooping lovers twitter through

the afternoon air and soft whispers

fill the nights.

 

 

 
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