Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-should it be that way? May 10, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:23 pm
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It was a suicide.

Two weeks have passed.

“The funeral is today.

Or. Not a funeral.  A celebration of life.”

Matter-of-fact voice.

How many times had intention

shown him this path?

That prescription the only protection

against this road.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

Translation:

Let me watch you in this crowd.

See if I can read your mind.

“No. I’m going to stand. It’ll be crowded.”

Did he know,

so many people would want to be there?

Did he know,

so many people cared?

Or was he counting on them,

covering for him when

he wasn’t there?

Two paths forking off this road,

wives watching the journey,

or buried by it.

 

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poem-waiting July 7, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:59 pm
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Dinner is ready

Waiting on the table.

Where is he?

 

 

poem-far January 20, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:41 am
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You’re too far.

It doesn’t matter that it’s only a day.

I feel bereft without my back up.

Knowing you’re at my back

is my security,

against myself.

Don’t be far

for long.

 

poem-coming home August 19, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:28 am
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Leaving now

Drive safely

@ Olds

@ work

@ Golden

2:45 TO GO!

Sicamous! Count down to ravishing you!

21 mins………….

.

.

..

^ Real texts, those. It makes for an unconventional love poem.  🙂 The best part about being away is coming home to the one you love and leaping into his arms!  I’ve been leaping enthusiastically into those arms for more than half my life.  ((((sigh))))  

 

poem-arcs April 30, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:25 am
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Arms are

the consolation

the comfort

the consideration

arranged around artifice.

Arcing constancy.

 

 

poem- perhaps April 26, 2015

Perhaps when

.   you are dead

I will find a cache

.   of hidden love letters,

.   diaries,

.   poetry

all proclaiming your passionate

.   yearnings,

your adoration recorded

.   day after day.

Moments captured on paper

.   trapped filaments of bliss

.   flashes of us through your eyes.

Perhaps

I will find a cache.

Perhaps

.              not.

 

poem- connected January 18, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:37 am
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In the day

they brush past one another,

utter essential words,

questions,

instruction.

But at night,

they brush against one another,

whisper non-essential words,

passions,

exhortation.

 

 
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