Shawn L. Bird

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

Concussed September 14, 2018

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:20 pm
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This concussion is a constriction

squeezing my head like a snake

hugging my eyes closed.

Light pressure. Dark daylight.

Just a little inconvenience.

 

poem-reality June 21, 2017

Eventually

Reality has to intervene.

You’re not destined for the NHL

Or the corps de ballet

Your voice will not sell

A million records.

Simon sends you packing.

 

Reality can suck.

But if playing hockey

Brings you happiness

Why stop just because you’ll never hoist the Stanley Cup?

Dance like nobody’s watching

Sing until you’re smiling.

 

Don’t let reality rob you of the joy

Of the activity itself.

The rush of a beautiful pass and goal.

The beauty of a perfectly formed pirouette.

The harmony than hums in your ear.

Celebrate those moments for ten thousand hours.

 

They say ten thousand hours yields excellence.

Perhaps you’ll need twenty.

Or thirty.

Embrace the joy.

Share in a community of like minds.

Perhaps after forty thousand hours

Your reality will change

And if it doesn’t,

At least you’ll nurture your soul.

Like reality,

Success has many faces.

 

poem- watcher April 18, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:17 am
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I pass the old man

on his balcony.

Huge sunglasses

through which he watches

like a

diurnal owl;

the world unfolds below him.

 

Just like my dad liked to sit.

I don’t wipe away

my tear.

 

poem- humming April 12, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:43 am
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I feel your humming.

Though you are far,

the vibrations of your present loss

reverberate.

I am humming

remembering you

near

nearer

nearest

wrapped around

my memories

squeezing like

a garbage compactor

humming

as it crushes

moments into

memories.

 

 

poem- love letters March 23, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:22 am
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They’re talking love letters

and I hold my tongue

but not my lips.

The tilting corners betray me.

The envelopes with your distinctive hand writing

my name like a caress

glued down like a kiss,

all our hopes and dreams scribbled onto foolscap

by a fool to a fool

giddy from hormones.

And now love letters

are notes on the counter:

“Turn on the crockpot at noon”

“Running errands. Back around 3.”

Messages that mean you still

love me.

 

 

poem-toothpaste love March 6, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:22 am
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This was your toothpaste.

The tube still holds the contours of your fist

the last squeeze you gave it.

I wrap my hand around

imagine your grip,

the skin on your hand like satin tissue

squeezing paste to scrub your teeth.

It is a long time before I can remove the lid

and squeeze the paste onto my own brush.

Remembering your hand

holding mine.

 

poem-winding January 6, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:44 am
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The vehicles wind along the highway

a immobile caterpillar

stalled by a moment

when the physics of motion, energy, and force

spun unfortunates into each other’s path

with a crash

that froze the goings

and made everyone in the long line

contemplate mortality.

.

.

.

The stretch of the TransCanada Highway between Sicamous and Salmon Arm is a frequent site of accidents.  I usually count on having to detour from work 3 times each winter.  Today was the third, and there are 2 months of winter left.  Our thoughts are with those who were involved in the accident, and medi-vacced out.

 

 
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