twelve
one
two
three
o’clock.
This hotel room is absent of you,
No lovers’ talk,
just me,
myself,
and seven o’clock is coming far
too soon.
poem-coming home August 19, 2015
Leaving now
Drive safely
@ Olds
@ work
@ Golden
2:45 TO GO!
Sicamous! Count down to ravishing you!
21 mins………….
.
.
..
^ Real texts, those. It makes for an unconventional love poem. 🙂 The best part about being away is coming home to the one you love and leaping into his arms! I’ve been leaping enthusiastically into those arms for more than half my life. ((((sigh))))
poem- journey November 23, 2014
Snow falling
dancing white specks
journeys from heaven
quickly absorbed
in mundane.
.
Plane flying
leaving white trails
journey from you
quickly absorbed
in fast lanes
poem- flying November 20, 2014
Sometimes,
my CPU revs up
like an airplane,
races down the run way;
my typing thuds unexpected spaces,
but my words take off
and fly around the world.
.
.
.
(old computer, noisy fan. It does sound like a revving plane!)
poem- real life take 2 August 31, 2014
Son returns
from Brazilian dreams
Misses his flights and is stranded in The Big City
.
Good thing today his sister moved into an apartment 10 mins from the airport, eh?
poem- marble August 21, 2014
From the rail siding
in Carrera I see
Michaelangelo’s
cold white mountain
sliced block by block.
What once created
La Pieta and David
now reduced to
slices of counter tops.
.
.
.
poem-missing August 7, 2014
Three thirty-three in the morning
I awaken, drenched in sweat.
I turn on the fan,
waiting for sleep to return
wishing that you were beside me.
poem-tolls July 14, 2014
He pays the toll
peck east
peck west
She’s the vehicle for
this journey
over-heavy for the road
burdened by billboards
Her engine rattles,
clanks,
thuds
down the road.
The convoy carries on
taking
a toll.
poem- reading a historical mystery April 24, 2014
Small gawky boy
Nose like the beak of an eyas,
I pass a glance to his hands
bronzed and thin upon the table
and find myself time travelling.
Immersed in visions of those hands
Stroking keys, coaxing music,
Mesmerizing me. Those hands
On other arms years ago.
I blink back to now and stare as he stumbles,
Endearingly uncoordinated, into a wall.
I watch him in a crowd, catch the flash of his smile
And am transported into that smile
Gleaming at me in another time
from another face.
Wondering at my sanity,
I check his files,
Find the name I know from long ago
and understand:
History is written in our blood
And carved upon our bones.
The tilt of our heads,
The rhythm of our laughter
The angle of our shoulders,
the shape of our souls,
Are revealed in the genetic mystery
That can be read through time,
by those who see the story.
poem- travel December 30, 2013
The case is packed full
of memories and you are
preparing for the trip
back to routine.
All that remains
are the images in the
camera and in
your mind.
Shawn L. Bird 