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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ignore ads following

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Poem- left hanging April 23, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:59 pm
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Craft it up.
Send it out
Check it off.
The intentions were there,
But I’m staring at the screen
seeing blurs
realizing it’s dream-time.
My off-switch just flipped,
so this poem will be left unfinished
until my brain is back on-line.
Perhaps tomorrow some time?

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NaPoWriMo day 23. Shakespeare’s birthday! I was going to play with a sonnet for their response prompt. Perhaps another day!
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(ignore ads following)

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poem-glow? April 1, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:31 pm
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Oh, yeah.

I used to gleam.

Shining sparkling day-glo shimmer

You know what I mean?

But Covid, man.

It’s worn me out.

Dulled my bright-light

What’s this exhaustion about?

It’s just going to work,

same as before

Just wearing a mask

washing hands, washing hands, and washing some more.

What’s so tiring about that?

I have absolutely no clue

But I’m heading to bed now at dinner time.

How are you?

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#NaPoWriMo Day 1. The official prompt from napowrimo.net was a video that triggered my TBI sensory over-load so I couldn’t watch it. :-/ I’ve come home from work, and again it’s not even 6 p.m. and I’m ready to crawl into bed with an eye mask, a heating pad, and an audio book. I can’t believe how exhausted I am all the time now! How’s a girl supposed to get poetry written, let alone books and stories! Arg. I hope you’re feeling less exhausted.

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Ignore any ads below. Unless they’re for Fluevog shoes, I don’t endorse them!

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poem-the forecast made promises March 1, 2021

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 12:49 pm
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Balmy day

they said.

I shiver in my sweater, wondering

if the air in my classroom is actually warm.

Outside, clouds climb the mountain

I wish I were in front of a fire,

clutching a cup of cocoa,

wrapped in a blanket and your arms.

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(Let’s hope spring will come soon. I am weary of winter weather).

 

poem-traditionalists December 18, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:19 pm
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Someone has to care enough

to do the grunt work.

Haul up the tree

Heave. Grunt.

Whip up the shortbread.

Beat. Grunt.

Dig out the toboggans, drive to the hill.

Wheeee! Grunt.

Cook the turkey. Shop. Wrap the presents.

Grunt

Grunt

Grunt.

Some years the off-stage magicians are silent,

but this year you can hear us

grunt.

 

poem-it must have snowed December 15, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:07 am
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I am awoken (What now?!)

by roaring outside

rasping, growling, rushing creature.

Oh, damn, I think, as I return to sleep.

The plow.

 

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-the dog peeks out of the blankets November 26, 2020

Filed under: poem,Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:20 am
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The alarm. Snooze hit five times.

The feet unsteady.

The eyes blur the room.

Shoulders ache.

Ankle twinge.

Tired. So tired.

A good day to stay inside.

Light a fire.

Bake something to take

pandemic weariness away,

But the mask is on

Happy face

the work day

awaits.

 

poem- uh oh November 6, 2019

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:52 pm
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I am dissolving

melting

unraveling

falling

blinking

broken

ready

for

rest.

 

poem- slow January 4, 2017

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:31 pm
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I’m moving through molasses

going slowly,

thinking like my thoughts are spilled ink

too dark to decipher.

Winter weather draws the sky closer,

closeting us in cloud,

so much white is blinding.

Days are short, but oh, so, slow

and cold.

 

 

 

 
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