Gavin Kenneth Shaw

Gavin Kenneth Shaw Poems


The rickety creaking bridge,

Life lights under my words like a candle under the dew.
Life lights tucked up in the essence of birds.
In my heart,
The Eagle soars.

Gavin Kenneth Shaw Biography

All MY POEMS ARE COPYRIGHT 2006 I want my art to rouse up feelings from my vision of emotions, Interpretation (TIMBRE) >>> I really want people to be in my eyes for awhile and try and feel what I have felt because I have felt UNIQUE EMOTIONS like this is MY ART INTERPRETATION MY VISION OF EMOTIONS>>>>>> from jubilation to sadness anxiety to the smallest indescribable emotions (and to me are most beautiful) , they are my (our) life’s journey my (our) EYES (vision) of what I (we) have felt which inspires me toward creativity. UNIQUE EMOTIONS>>> I have felt unique emotions every emotion is unique because every emotion, irrelevant to how it may be described EXAMPLE HAPPINESS, is unique to its time (every second is different from another) and its beholder (who is unique because his or her time has been different (in perception) to anyone else’s there for it is unique, the beholder perceives the world through feelings, those feelings are as limitless as creativity. There for (through the limitless inspiration of emotion) everyone has a limitless amount of art they can offer this world of beholders, they also, through their emotions have some help, understanding and diversity to offer the world, EMOTION, emotion makes us all different and unique (not the only thing) because of our perception of those limitless emotions, which we can all offer the world in the limitless form of creativity. Even if something has been said before, in art you can say it again with a whole new (unique) meaning. Emotions are limitless and unique, like art is limitless and unique, Emotion inspires art (both limitless) Replicating what I’ve felt into feelings which are perceived by me first by the beholder 2nd and then interpreted in a unique way, This interpretation is as limitless as the creativity that inspired the “piece” which inspired the interpretation. We interpret creativity with our own eyes. This means interpretations can be as limitless as emotion and art, As long as there are people their will be an infinite scope of emotions that we feel and creativity which we create with. “The dawn comes to a million eyes in different shades as it creates a million different visions to be interpreted with a million different minds” “If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite” -William Blake Infinite, Limitless. Infinite Movement, Intelligent Movement)

The Best Poem Of Gavin Kenneth Shaw

Memoirs Of The Creaking Bridge


The rickety creaking bridge,
His yielded wood,
In unpinned sun is joyous; where day children flock in a low skirting pitch.
Where beneath the river bulbs weeds tussle,
Strumming the watery buzzing thuds, the eyelids-brown- are in prayer.

The bubbly effervescent reeds,
By guild they swim in skinning lights,
They beacon,
Flaxen saplings,
Shows an afterglow, the afterglow simmering,
Where death is pleaded in the stirs; reddening,
The flowing affirms the bee-
In his chock grandiose colour.


Creaking bridge,

Underneath is serendipitous crooking,
Under which is the floating chalk of the trees;
The brown whispering water oil; scampers and scuttles in the blood,
Around us dust burns,
And autumnal leaves are weaving-
In the brailing of the puddles- small winds stir,
Where there are fences swimming the road,
And there is rust in brows; where the country axe falls over, where the radio hums.


Creaking bridge,
Old Susan strolls upon it,
And she grasses her jewels with a mane,
Singing grandmother,
Colder in her eyes,
No time does time forget those ones whom do harrow in her silvery spine.


Creaking bridge, memoirs of the creaking bridge,
The shipping auburn bridge,
The russet coffee thighs,
In release the moon jiggles her brazier, above-
London rain with his summery hose,
The bank is stirring and sloshing in mud;
Where the urchins bones are secret kept-
Those graves in the boards of his breath,
Where bikes ruffling from above, pass-
Where light drapes through the straight cracks,
The collar of the sun is bathing.


Where the hunchback shade seeps the twigs,
The flake’s lids are praising the Irish tolls- the grass on seasons grows,
The mahogany jaunting bridge,
Below the bellow of the sap, slides the Macintosh scents that fury-
That might is silence- still and hush.

The light bulb is broken,
The tea is unmade,
The door is on his hinges,
The quiver, the shudder has no bed.


And the night chants in silvers,
Among the remnants of sun sparks,
And the dreaming coughs out his vent,
Sighing the swinging branches of his west,
Our traveled pillar lays out his bearded seat,
Where passages frail like a pencil in the storm, where ships far- rock,
Where the night fades into the mornings locks,


The dirt in the stream swallows,
The chains in his pipe scull,
The deathly muting,
The pastel longing,
Then the singing stops,
And the radio halts,
And the rickety bridge- creaks.

By Gavin Kenneth Shaw
Copyright 2007

Gavin Kenneth Shaw Comments

Daniel White 30 August 2006

Leonard Cohen is jesus

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