Shawn L. Bird

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

poem-other places July 22, 2021

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:33 am
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the internet shows

there is rain elsewhere;

people celebrating

with summer fun.

it is not armaggedon

outside their windows;

no red sun an eery ball

in a tawny coloured sky,

no ashen needles settle

on sunflower leaves.

where they are

no threatening glow over the hill

disturbs their hope of sleep

while smoke kisses the suitcases

and bags stacked at the door,

for when the word comes.

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Forest fire season in BC! In the last 5 years the summers have been getting consistently scarier. 4 of the 5 were horrible smokey years. While we’ve always had fires in the summer, generally it was rare to have one near communities and one bad fire summer would be followed by many fine years. I don’t remember my childhood in the Okanagan filled with smoke. But now it is the norm. Climate change sucks. A fire that started with a car accident about 38 hours ago is now a raging 800 hectare (~2000 blaze) only 25 km away from us. Very, very, very scary). Our bags are packed and we’re ready to load up if we are put on alert.

 

poem-where there’s smoke July 19, 2021

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 2:14 am
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she left the window open

woke to ash on the couch

mountains are obscured

noon light is yellow

armageddon glow

our expressions of worry

furrowed brows

above our masks

(N95 now)

don’t ask about our stress levels

as we check the lightning tracker,

the live stream wildfire map.

After the pandemic

seems we don’t yet have the knack

of acceptance; get the bag

ready to go,

make sure we know where

to rendez-vous, pretend

all this is normal.

What more can we do?

Bless the fire fighters

as the map clicks to fire number

one thousand one hundred thirty two.

 

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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ignore ads following

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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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