Words of a tragically inept poet and writer. Self exploration and observations of a phenomenal free spirit and thinker.






 

Fading Flowers in Fall-

 Sunflowers, Zinnias,

Morning Glories and Cosmos

bloom in my garden

Despite the cold

And coming of Fall.

Cool mornings that

hold out just above the frost line.

 

Even with the shortening of days

and a dark that always finds us early

They hold the days of Summer Sun

in thick stems and multitudes.

unaware their season has passed.

 

Until finally

The crisp cold fingers of rime

Touch and touch again

Surprise ambush

 

They clutch out the resilience

Choke out at the root

Lay heavy atop the bloom

With cracking frigidity

 

Until the last innocent

Petals fall

Without ever knowing

What hit them.

 

-Terri Ann Bird

October 1, 2014

 

First Draft/ No Revisions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

terriannbird:

Untitled 7-2014


The Lake-

The lake where I was raised
is where I find peace

for my harpooned heart
(Bulwark) corroded 
under sea salty tongue(s)
this is my best defense.

I paddle out past the buoy
on a raft that should
(or should not) be (harboured)
I drop anchor and myself
when the water is black under me

The worry that always lingers
drifts on top of the waves          
(flotsam) 
on a current that does not exist

The seaweed water rocks me
and I rise above it
buoyancy has always
been my best feature

First Draft/No corrections/No Edit

terriannbird:

The Lake-

The lake where I was raised

is where I find peace

for my harpooned heart

(Bulwark) corroded 

under sea salty tongue(s)

this is my best defense.

I paddle out past the buoy

on a raft that should

(or should not) be (harboured)

I drop anchor and myself

when the water is black under me

The worry that always lingers

drifts on top of the waves          

(flotsam) 

on a current that does not exist

The seaweed water rocks me

and I rise above it

buoyancy has always

been my best feature

First Draft/No corrections/No Edit

terriannbird:

Dividing Asset

By: Terri Ann Bird

When love loses itself,

for whatever the reason,

for so many reasons,

for no reason at all

most people want the same things

the car, the house, the investments.

The day we (divided up the split)

He wanted the land

I wanted to take back the 489 days his love wrecked me

He wanted the tools, trailers, and central air system

I wanted to take back the 489 days my love wrecked him

He wanted the campers, the beds, the dressers

I wanted to remember the feeling of what it was to be liked by someone

Just liked, admired, appreciated,

He wanted most of the things he’d ever bought for me

(Including my ring)

happiness was never on his list of wants

I wanted to be able to ride my bike down that long winding trail

Where the creek bed meets the walking bridge-

I wanted to not imagine myself, (like I’d done every day for the last four years)

Hanging, bloated and blue, at the end of that short rope.

-Terri Ann Bird