Category Archives: poetry

journey

Read the rest of this entry

clinically speaking

another test?
not as invasive as the one last week
you said the scan was clear
yes
you said not to worry
well… yes
if it was clear, doesn’t that mean that nothing is there???

well… technically… nothing is one-hundred percent

well… then, don’t one-hundred percent tell me that a scan is clear
and don’t one-hundred percent tell me not to worry

because

I, one-hundred percent hang on every word you say

© 2014 lMc

little signs #2… not so newlyweds

this series titled little signs is inspired by years of covertly listening to and later participating in ‘squawk talk’ — as my son-in-law calls it… women of all ages gathering together to dissect relationship issues.

not so newlyweds

friday night

He

rushes through
front door

grabs cold beer
not Her hot ass

©  2014 lMc

another little sign

a kitchen rag, neglected, stiff,
dry as dust, hangs from a rusty
nail in the laundry room

because they forget to remove
it, it has become a part of the
landscape of their lives

this has her mother worried

turquoise eyes

we hold each others gaze

I memorize her face

while changing her clothes

her hair is unkempt, in swatch’s

radiation tattoos dot her left side

pancreatic cancer – hereditary – is

taking her away… too

sixty-four years old, stick thin

legs as fragile as her memory

my mother – suddenly my charge

her dry turquoise eyes dart back

and forth, searching, she’s anxious,

“my doll? my favorite doll!”

(hiding in the recesses of her mind)

hospice mentioned she may regress

become childlike

I cry softly when it happens

her voice…  high and small

“if we were sisters we would fight over dolls…”

my voice… soothing

“mmm and you have the best dolls don’t you, Beverly?”

she sighs… slowly smiles… “thank you mama

my turquoise eyes

dart back and forth

searching…

© 2003 lMc

Desert Wolf

for my brother Mark

Coyotes’ unbound
sound
cuts clear, triggers
caution,
a chilly disquiet
pursues.
Indigo backdrop reveals
eerie,
gnarled juniper contours
crouched
between sunsets’ scarlet
smear
and jagged canyon
lip.

Coyotes’ whiskers, tickle
tracks
and ravines, an ochre
apparition.
Thin, wind whispered
wails
probe the lonesome
desert.
Coyote raises pointed
muzzle
to swollen Luna and
testifies.

© 2011 lMc

essence

cool blade pierces pungent melon
seeds flood onto cutting board
we succumb to succulent
full-blown tones of
sunset flesh
sticky
liquid
tendrils
lace
face
fingers
wrists and elbows
light mist of fruit flies
flitting ……. shooting stars!

© lMc

haiku ~ seasons

seasons

I answer the phone
hospital with test results
fat robin tugs worm

© 2014 lMc

Druidic Maiden

While others no doubt take pleasure in open meadows, scent of flowers

I with hair in shades of apricot and flax
chide the Predicants’ homily extolling
golden power

and skirt the fringes of Sun spilled days,
choose instead to inhabit somber forests,
dance barefoot in dank cool recesses,
the solace of estuaries cloaked in moss

watchful of pale skin touching Suns’ Blades
that scorch so and leave tell-tale roses
across buttermilk cheeks

© 2004 lMc

medical shorthand

BP
LAB
CBC
EGD

CA 19-9

CAT
EUS
SED
IV

will someone, please, look at ME ?

© 2014 lMc

swimming lesson

I drift in the pool
listening underwater
to the puddled
music of children

Their polymorphous
figures play Shark
as they dart, scream,
arms flailing in mock fear

How, then, should I deal
with this ravenous Shark
lurking in these antiseptic
grey – blue shadows ?

Should I dart and scream,
flail my arms in fear? Or
shape – shift and align
with my own silent predator…

“Are you warm enough, dear?
Just a quick poke, you’re going
to feel drowsy, take a deep
breath and count backward from ten…”

© 2014 lMc

 

yet

I haven’t heard a word

neither The Word
a lead-bellied anvil drop

nor the word
a spiders’ web floating off on a breeze

Any word is preferable to

“No word, yet…”

© 2014 lMc

Star In Her Eye

raising a rare girl

Shedding Light on Mental Illness

The triumphs and struggles of living with bipolar disorder

Crest, Cliff & Canyon

Landscape Photography by A. Jackson Frishman

A Hundred Falling Veils

there's a poem in every day

Ikea Decorating Ideas

Daily Decorating Ideas and Tips

Shawn L. Bird

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

Insight. . . !

A little writing space which means a lot for a young man to express his immature thoughts.

%d bloggers like this: