One
.
tiny
.
perfect
.
snowflake
.
falls
.
through
.
empty
.
sky.
.
Intrepid?
.
or harbinger?
poem-new February 20, 2017
The shape of this idea
is new,
resolving conceptually around
a
round
never-ending
novelty
what the mirror reveals of me.
The shape of this idea
greets daily astonishment
as “You can be” turns out to be true.
Who knew?
poem-circles October 24, 2016
I’m
circling
I’m
adding,
growing, and
learning.
I’m
becoming
the dream me
I see her
in
laughter
applause
award
I’m
circling
up to the prize
it’s closer
and
closer
with every
word.
.
.
I just came back from the annual Surrey International Writers’ Conference. My first year there, I successfully pitched to a publisher. My third time I successfully pitched to an agent. When I first started attending, I admired the amazing writing of the winners of the $1000 Storyteller Award and the humorous writing by the winners of the 75 word Silly Write contest. I dreamed of winning those contests. I’ve entered a couple of pieces 5 or 6 times over the years. This year I didn’t have a project to pitch, but I submitted to both contests. I was short listed for the Storyteller (3rd year in a row short listed for a writing contest at SIWC!) and my entry came second in the Silly Write. I was thinking “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” 🙂 On the other hand, I feel the precipice I’m standing on- I am appreciating the fine line of difference between good and great.
When several hundred people are laughing at your jokes and cheering when your name is called, you can’t help but feel inspired.
You know how there comes a time when the craftsman requires particular tools to create true art? Because of the amazing craft workshops I attended (Donald Maass, Diana Gabaldon, Susanna Kearsley, Shari Green) and meal conversations (Larry Brooks, Nephele Tempest, Jack Whyte) I feel like I’ve been given the master tools that will make the difference to leap off the precipice and FLY. I feel that intangible sense that things are about to change, and I’m excited!
poem-then love April 29, 2015
I told you
I’d love you forever
You told me you loved me
and we’d be friends forever.
I meant every deluded nuance.
You figured optimism works out
but you also said you couldn’t answer
to what would happen if I snuck into your room
and you woke to my face hovering above you.
That intriguing notion made me giggle at the joke.
But you kept your door locked, just in case.
Did you hear the door knob rattle?
Then the plane took off,
without me hiding in your luggage
as you’d suggested I could.
Our next phone call clarified
the kindness of lies.
and the length reality stretches
to cling to an illusion.
I’ve been grateful for
the elasticity of spurious delusion
every day of my life.
I craft my reality in my imagination:
You are whoever I make you to be.
Do I cover you with armour?
Compel piano mastery?
Some loves last through time:
mythical love need not be mocked.
What you hear, is never what truly was.
It’s what was crafted to tell the tale that needed to be told.
You are a character in the love story,
and I can always kill you off in
literary impunity.
.
Shape poem of a chess piece. Clear? Metaphor of the game. Get it?
poem-shapely August 22, 2014
I was a line
a squiggly line
a wiggly line
that grew
and grew
into a sphere:
a bubble floating
a tire rolling
I bent elliptically
under pressure,
curves contained
in shapely strain.
poem- not tree July 13, 2014
T h i s i s a
t
e
e
.
.
.
(Snicker. Sometimes I do things just to amuse myself. Ignore me).
poem- tree
T h i s i s a
t
r
e
e
.
.
(with apologies to Joyce Kilmer, who’s right, ’cause it isn’t as lovely as the real thing)
poem-timeless July 10, 2014
On this
summer day,
lost in you,
I see no end.
.
.
.
This poem is my 1500th post! 🙂
There are a few ways to read this one, each painting a slightly different picture.
Shawn L. Bird 