Shawn L. Bird

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

poem- weekend April 24, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:30 pm
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Daily countdown

Five days

Four days

Three days (Hump day!)

Two days!

Six hours!

Four hours!

Two hours!

Home at last

Collapse

Sleep ten hours

Twelve hours.

Fourteen hours.

Early to bed.

Sunday- recovery!

Look around

enjoy the sun

deal with chores

Early to bed

Ten hours

’til it starts again.

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NaPoWriMo day 24. Has anyone found themselve just completely exhausted over the last year? Between brain injury recovery, three family deaths, and the stress of increase in Covid cases and dangerous variants (and positive cases in kids within the local school system…) I don’t think I’ve ever had as hard a year. How about you?

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poem-budding April 22, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:44 pm
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Outside the window
new green
We walk by in masks
waiting for vaccine

Spring is a time
for hope
Another year on a
slippery slope.

Daffodils bursting
from the soil
Politics and a pandemic
embroiled

Breathe.
Take care.
We’re almost
there.

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NaPoWriMo Day 22 A little contrast between the hope of spring and the stress of rising numbers of infected folks, including a friend.
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poem-what’s to do? April 9, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:19 am
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One voice shrill above the babble:

WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING!

Oh girl,

I hear you.

What’s happening, indeed.

How do we hold our pieces together?

*buy string

*wrap a reminder around my finger: “it will be okay”

*send a card: Thinking of you

*put on makeup

*video call

*write a poem

*read a book

*have a nap

*roll in blankets with the dog

*sing loudly to the radio

*hunt for daffodils

*listen to the chickadees

*fill the feeder, black oil sunflowers are their favourite.

*be gentle with myself when I inevitably

*fall apart

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Today’s NoPoWriMo prompt is to write a To Do list.
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poem- When we spoke of masks April 6, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:33 pm
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Once, masks were metaphorical;

pandemics were historical.

Now, cortisol flood makes us

fatter every day.

Isolating’s creating a nation of moles,

nervous of leaving our holes,

as each wave proves more deadly,

We’re wishing consequences on anti-maskers

and anti-vaxxers: be sacrifices for your cause,

carry a card that you’re happy to

leave hospital beds for those who

take this seriously, those

who sacrifice comfort for society.

We’ll try to survive by masking insecurities,

and wait eagerly for our vaccines,

praying variant strains, don’t over-strain us.

Masking anxiety until we can

Breathe easier again.

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NaPoWriMo Day 6. Another day ignoring the official prompt ’cause I had other stuff in my mind. Weird how often I’m playing with rhyme this week.

 

poem-digging a trench December 9, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:27 am
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This is not the year

for adventurous rambling

for party-down fun

for braving new experiences

for exploring new ideas

This is the year

for settling in

for warming up

for holding close

for safe hidey holes from which

to weather the barrage.

 

poem- like ducks December 7, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:58 pm
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On the outside:

calm, controlled, confident.

Beneath the surface:

quivering, quaking, confused.

How many stress-based illnesses

tension fueled troubles

surface in our bodies and minds?

How hard do we fight

to carry on?

 

poem-ribbon December 3, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:09 am
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Tonight’s sunset

is a thin strip of pink ribbon

in a vast blue sky

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One wispy cloud

reflects the fading sun:

a sliver of bright beauty

to stab devouring darkness.

 

Poem- choking December 1, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:12 am
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Tonight amid the Christmas decorations

grief is hanging on our tree;

loss pummels

hopefulness.

Sadness hollows out my chest,

crushes my shoulders,

lodges in my throat.

Longing overwhelms.

There is no comfort

here, only more memories

of what is gone

who is gone

when is gone

where is gone.

Tonight is too much to bear,

so I’ll climb into bed and

trust tomorrow brings

solace and that much lauded

peace of the season.

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poem-shared November 27, 2020

It starts with a shoemaker:

distinctive shoes

loud shoes

not for hiding shoes.

It grows with friends:

shared shoe styles

shared eccentricity

shared creativity.

It rests in comfort:

not alone.

Celebrate unique soles

together.

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My Nikki Knox collaborator, Nikolette, also a teacher, and I are feeling rather stressed these days as the second wave of the pandemic strikes with rising numbers in schools. We are consoling each other by wearing the same Fluevog shoes this week (we have several pairs in common). Though we are 800 km apart, we are in each other’s hearts and soles. 🙂

 

poem-letter from the war office November 25, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:19 am
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The first message is a head’s up.

Someone in the building has tested Covid positive and is off to quarantine.

“You will be contacted by an official in the health authority is there is potential that you were in contact with someone while they were contagious. Carry on until then.”

Potential: having or showing the capacity to become or develop into something in the future.

You know, like how two people in a building have the potential to pass one another, greet one another, use the same facilities, sit in the same chairs, use the same keyboards, sit next to one another at lunch, even though you don’t know them and they don’t know you. You’d identify them how?

I think the more accurate message would be “You will be contacted by an official in the health authority is there is likelihood that you were in sustained contact with someone while they were contagious.”

Let’s be real. Potential is everywhere. Give us the hope of less likelihood!

Several hundred people wait in our masks with bated breath, wondering who will be the ‘lucky’ winner of a lottery worthy of Shirley Jackson.

Pandemic adventures as we attempt to surf the second wave.

 

 
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