Shawn L. Bird

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

on being thoroughly mused June 30, 2013

For Outlander author Diana Gabaldon:

.

You

were not

just kissed

by the muse,

Diana, huntress,

goddess of the moon.

You were ravaged.

You were embraced;

your buttocks clutched

and hoisted high,

as the muse impaled you,

roughly pierced your soul,

raised hairs the whole length of you.

Seized by such  divine  inspiration,

you stretched, back arching,

and received the pulsing

thrusts of

.

w

o

r

d

s

,

w

o

r

d

s

,

w

o

r

d

s.

.

Excruciating

ecstasy

that  called forth

rippling quivers,

left you heaving,

complete,

replete,

and pregnant

with story.

.

Diana muse

.

This post began with a random comment made on Diana Gabaldon’s Facebook page yesterday, and here we are!  My first erotica!  ((blush))  lol

.

For those who wondered, yes, Diana has seen this, and I even have a recording of her laughing lustily about it, as we were wrapping up our blue pencil at SIWC 2013. 🙂  Her comment, should you not be able to read the image is, “Wow! That’s a GREAT poem Shawn! I’m truly honoured #mindIusuallyhavetodomoreofthework”

 eroticpoetrypostOnBeingMused

In August 2013 she dedicated her Daily lines to me:

ThisonesforShawnLBirdpoetess

The daily lines in question can be read here:

http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1rlp46l

And if you’re a fan of Outlander and are now watching the TV series, you may enjoy the poem Dear Sam Heughan from August 2013 when Sam was first cast to play Jamie:  Diana has seen this one as well, and coached me through some necessary vocabulary alterations (see notes at the end). 😉

 

in essence… January 11, 2013

Filed under: fun,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:25 am
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MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

 

Madame Arthurson brought word tattoos for the Creative Writing Club meeting today.  Cool! 🙂

 

Story November 26, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:16 am
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From Three Views of Crystal Waters by Katherine Govier:

There are  stories.  Stories that are told and told.  They belong to the people who tell them, not the people who are in them.  The one who is the storyteller is the one who collects.  Maybe he is lame.  Maybe he lives alone and has no one to talk to .  Then he will remember them, go over them in his mind, so the stories are not lost.  This is an old tradition.  Now not so many will follow.  When the story teller is ready, he will tell the story.  You may be in the story.  It is not finished.  You may be part  of the story…

.

NaNoWriMo Day 26 1537  words  (November total: 36888  13,112 to go in the next 4 days!)

 

Storycube challenge #1 September 13, 2012

Filed under: Commentary,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:54 pm
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I came across this nifty item on a plane to London last year.  The Irish game has three versions, and thanks to eBay, I have them all.  I like to mix and match them, though I like the ACTIONS set best.  I use them in my class room, both for English and Drama.

Here’s an example of a little story I came up with for fun.

Now it’s YOUR turn!

Here is a photo of a roll of Rory’s story cubes.  Write a story using the first row as the beginning, the middle row as the development point of your story, and the bottom row as the end of the story.

Interpret each cube to mean whatever you want.  For example, ss the lock a literal lock, or is it a prison? a riddle? an obstacle?  a place of security? a lock of hair?  an opportunity?

In case you can’t make them out, the images are as follows:

closed lock, an abacus, masks of comedy and tragedy

an upward facing arrow, a rainbow with one cloud, someone sleeping

dice, a bed, a shooting star

Post your results in the comment section below! 🙂

RORY’S STORY CUBES are an excellent tool for story telling, idea generation, discussion for everyone from pre-schoolers to senior stroke victims to writers. This roll is from the Apple app.

 

story or death August 28, 2012

Filed under: Commentary — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:23 am
Tags: ,

If the other fellow can’t tell you his story, you can never be sure he isn’t trying to kill you.

Orson Scott Card.  Ender’s Game.  NY: Tor, 1991. p.253.

This quote  is either really profound or hilarious.  There is a bit of a truth here though.  If you know nothing about someone else, you may distrust his motives, and perhaps for good reason.  However, if you know where someone has come from, have heard history and story, well, then you might be absolutely certain that he’s whacked out and you’re in danger every moment you’re with him!  Or not.

 

479 June 8, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:31 pm
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Pondering short story ideas and this patch of dialogue came to me.  I thought I’d write it down.  Not sure what I’ll do with it, if anything.  Where would you take it?

.

“I wouldn’t marry you if the flames of hell were devouring Aunt Ida’s apple tree, and copulation could save the human race, do you hear me Billy Killswell?  For the four hundredth time, the answer is no!”

I had meant it, too. I’d meant it the three hundred and ninety nine times previously, and the seventy-eight times after.   So what was I doing here in this damn white dress standing beside him?

Four hundred seventy nine is a charm, apparently.

Billy grinned over at me.

I snarled back.

His grin widened.

If I only I’d held out for four hundred and eighty.  Four-eighty is definitely a number full of secure denial.

Damn Billy Killswell.  Damn him from now ’til eternity.

“I told you I’d get you here, didn’t I?” Billy whispered.

“To hell with you, Billy.” I muttered back.

Pastor Griffith gave a little start, and looked down his bi-focals at me.  I scowled as he cleared his throat and motioned the congregation to sit down.  The congregation was half-blind Brody Turner and my cousin Lula, who were the designated witnesses to this farce.

“Dearly beloved…” Griff intoned solemnly.

“Stop!” bellowed a voice from the back, and all nine eyes in the church turned to stare at the door.

.

So you tell me, who’s at the door?  Leave a suggestion or two in the comment section below, and I’ll pick one and see where we go from there!

 

I Heart You, You Haunt Me June 1, 2012

Filed under: book reviews,Reading — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:14 pm
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My review of I Heart You, You Haunt Me by Lisa Schroeder, in verse.  Of course.

.

A verse novel

is like dessert.

Not double chocolate fudge cake

or creme brulee.

More like

lime jello

or

custard.

You want to love it

because it’s dessert,

but somehow

 it doesn’t quite satisfy.

There’s a lack of depth here.

The message is simple

and the path is straight.

Apparently,

I like more

complexity

in relationships

and characters.

More conflict.

Something

more.

.

Lest you think I’m just negative toward all verse novels, here’s my review of Wendy Phillip’s Fishtailing, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

 

write on the page April 13, 2012

Filed under: Pondering — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:43 am
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“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year’s Day.”

Edith Pierce

Our life is a story.  Some are romances, some are adventure stories, some are didactic, some are political thrillers, some are fantasies…  What’s yours?

 

Story cube #1- bed to bridge April 9, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:03 am
Tags: , , , , , ,

While on a flight to England recently, I discovered Rory’s Story Cubes in the Duty Free catalogue.  The 9 cubes, embossed with images on all six sides, originate in Northern Ireland.  The company suggests that we think in images, and thus stories are opened up to us by rolling the cubes.  Intrigued with the idea of using such tools in my class room or to aid with incidents of writer’s block, I purchased a set.  There are a number of ways to use the  cubes, for solo or cooperative story telling, for inspiration or for competive story games.  I can see using them in creative writing classes, and also in drama class.  I am just beginning to play with them, but here’s an effort at a flash fiction (470 words) based on the following cube roll:

<!–[endif]–>
Story cube #1

Once upon a time…

It was a dream.  I knew it, but it didn’t make it less real, or less terrifying.  Whether or not I was, in fact, safe in my bed, the panic still engulfed me and I fought for wakefulness without success.  I was trapped there, inside my dream.  Aware, but helpless.

There were footsteps echoing around me.  At first, it was just one person’s heavy tread, and I struggled to open a window that appeared as I wished to investigate, but then the treads changed and they echoed all around me, as if an unseen army was tromping through my bedroom.

I quivered in fear, coming to a terrifying awareness that whether or not I dreaming, I was not at all asleep.  I was fully awake, and the noise was real.  I was in danger.

In William Golding’s Lord of the Flies, a parachutist descends to the island to send a message from the grown ups.  The message is lost, and the hope that his arrival may have brought becomes brutish superstition instead.  That’s how I felt as the boot steps echoed, and a supersticious dread of zombie armies, heck, real armies, filled me.

Hope knocked on the door at that moment.  “Hey!  Anyone in there?”

“Yes!” I bellowed.  “I’m here!  Can you get me out?”

There was a fussing about with the lock and then a muttered curse.

“What happened?”

“I cut my hand trying to jimmy the lock.  I’m bleeding all over the place here.”

I waited, with growing impatience at the noises emitted from the lock set, until there was a click, and an outburst of satisfaction from the other side of the door.

I grabbed the knob and the door fell open, revealing the stone walls beyond and an amazing apparition.

I stared.

She stared.

“Who are you?” I finally asked, recovering a bit from the dazzle of light beaming off her glowing form.

“I am, um,” she shook her head a moment before changing her mind.  “No.  Who are you?”

“I’m a prisoner.  I’ve been locked in this room inside this pyramid for… well.  I don’t know how long.  Who are you?  How did you get in?”

“I live here.  I mean, I live in a house near here.  I heard a noise.  I came to investigate.”

Investigate?

“You’re not in a pyramid,” she added thoughtfully.  “You’re in my head.”

“I can’t be.”

She nodded sagely.  “Of course you can be.  You are.”

“Can you get me out?  Out of the pyramid, I mean.”

“I told you, you’re in my head.”

“Yes, yes.  But if you think me out of the pyramid, perhaps I won’t feel like I’m in one?”

“Oh.  That’s an idea.  Are you expecting to get out of my head, as well?”

I shrugged.  “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.  In the meantime…?”
<!–[endif]–>

 

Story: iloveross17 (chapter one) February 26, 2011

Filed under: narrative,Poetry,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:06 am
Tags: , , , , ,

Log in
User name: suzieq@
Password: iloveross17mos
Change password: iloveross18mos

Status updates:

Zara- math test! Gonna die.

Bixby- what is the reason to fear what we do not understand?

Ross- is now single.

Lena- have to babysit my little sister, someone text me!

CHAT ALERT!
Zara- Suzanne! OMG! Are you ok?!!!

Log off

.

Deep breath.
Ross…is single??????????

.

 —————————————————————

Next installment: Chapter 2

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Submitted as part of  Monday Poetry Potluck Mar 7, 2011.  If you’re here from the potluck, add the link to your contribution in a comment.

 

 
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