Shawn L. Bird

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

haiku storm August 31, 2015

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:09 am
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rippling waves

sparkling with emerald, peridot, citrine

storm tossed tree.


poem-seas October 24, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:01 pm
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Skin ripples

Head surges

Stomach rolls

Body is a stormy sea.


poem-night light August 20, 2014

All evening

the hills have been

illuminated by a

laser light show,

and now

the skies are


white mist

hides the hills,

enfolding us

as the heavens

flash and crash



poem-threat July 23, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:54 am
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I hear your distant rumblings.

Your grumblings do not impress.

I can shut the windows

and let your storm pass by.


poem-silence July 11, 2014

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:35 am
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She fills the sky

with a rainfall of words,

a hurricane of syllables,

a thundering       of sentences.

She brews                     a storm,

but he stands impermeable

in silent eloquence

amid her eye.


poem- summer storm August 12, 2013

Epic battle:

light and dark.

Musket muzzles flash

Light bayonets the hills

with slashing stabs.

In the concussion of the cannonade

Houses rattle.



So let’s discuss this poem.  Despite the nice circuitous connection of battle/rattle , I think ‘houses rattle’ is the weakest line in the poem, and ending with the weakest line is never a good thing.  You want a nice strong ending.  I started with ‘reverberation’ in the line (no houses at that point) which is perhaps better is some ways, though I felt too obvious a choice.  

Let’s workshop this.  What do you think?  What would you do to the last line to continue the battle metaphor, but convey the quaking ground and rattling windows?


summer storm June 29, 2013

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:18 am
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On upturned pots and pans

some rocking sky child,

some deity’s progeny,

is beating, bashing

crashing, smashing

a percussive cacophony,

complete with

slashing, flashing

light show.


And not content

at blinding glow

he rumbles low

and shakes the ground

with reverberating sound.

Wild rocking child,

with his smashing


garage band in the sky.

In solid streams

sweat’s pouring down

and plastering the ground;

thus he howls his greeting

to July.


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