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Best Poems Written by John Bird

Below are the all-time best John Bird poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | John Bird Poem

Shapes

Everything is now a shade of a colour 
Nothing is defined anymore 
No longer are the edges clear 
Moments of light 
Moments of dark 
But one blurs into the other

My better judgement tells me it’s because I don’t recognise myself anymore 
If I ever did
I don’t know if I ever had something to compare this to in the first place 
I like to think I did 
My friends will tell me I was different years ago and I need to come back 
But how would they know 
They don’t know what was going on up there
And the past lives mean nothing when you’re trying to identify the scared face looking at you in the mirror 

The voices are just shades anyway and the memories are just whispers 
No commands in colour just suggestions 
You might and you may 
But who knows, this is just a game of chance 
And you don’t make your own luck anymore 

I can’t stop thinking about how you were asked if when you play your saxophone you see colours or shapes when you think of the notes 
It’s funny you couldn’t answer at the time but later you told me you saw shapes and shades of colours surrounding them and they dropped down as your fingers hit the keys

I now see the world in colours and shapes
That party was a triangle 
Obtuse and flattened 
In a shade of navy blue 
No room for the circles inside to breath
Everyone else feeling like it is just another triangle 
That dinner was a semi circle 
And that drink with my friend was a stout rectangle
I told my therapist this and she said I always see flat shapes and asked me why 
I told her I didn’t want to talk about music anymore
I told her I wanted to talk about how I can stop talking to her anymore 
She almost seemed more confused than me
That conversation was a rhombus

Details | John Bird Poem

Tumble dry

I have to become something
It will iron out my faults
Like a shirt with too many creases that still needs to be worn 
I’m a bed sheet with too many stains and too many folds from restless nights

It’s okay when the sheet has a history 
Has a memory 
Has a past 
Has the time you spent with your future wrapped in a ball all broken and stretched  
Has the times you spent recovering from the heartbreak of the time 
Watching the Simpsons on repeat until you mix her name with homers and laugh to yourself in a hungry sadness
I want to become part of a life not a thing to be discarded because it’s damage causes more disgust than it does sentiment 
What can a piece of fabric with holes cut out and black marks in its middle be if not a work of art 
To be admired by some and misunderstood by many 
Where does it go

Does it go with all the others
Burnt recycled washed and repurposed 
Into the machine
Into the personalised fix for one hundred pound a week
Into the wash to be made anew 
Something the same as before but without the scars of its past
I don’t want to be new 
I want to be me 
I want to be seen 
I want to be wanted 
The black marks not defining my value  
And making more while finding something new when being wrapped up in it  
All stained, torn, and marked
Beautifully marked

Details | John Bird Poem

We could both be nothing

The Simpsons was special to you now it is special to me 
The colour pink was fun for you to control now I own a pink cowboy hat  
Tones of a classical piano sent emotions into your heart and now I bleed when my boss thinks it makes her look cultural to discuss Chopin with me 
How can I forget the shapes of you 

The scars love leaves can’t be worth the hit 
Surely I can’t be the only one to feel this pain when I’m sitting on the bus alone 
Surely I can’t be the only one who feels that life isn’t worth living without the living someone made for you
The regret will eat you alive so move on before you’ve lost your legs 
Sadly I think I’m now only crumbs to be pecked at by the vultures 

My sister says she has no time for me because her demons are louder than mine
And she lives in love 
I wonder if she would be devoured quicker than me if I was to tell her about a woman he had been seeing behind her back 
She might then understand
My demons are quieter but more cunning and persistent 
She could have them too 
We would be closer and mum would be happy but we would each be nothing 

I just wish I had never sent the texts 
I wish I had never told any of you 
But you can’t live with that 
You have to gather up those bloody parts and hope the surgeon will see you again
Though I don’t think he works weekends anymore and I can’t take anymore time off work