Shirow Walker

Shirow Walker Poems

Sing little bird, I knew you first.
Your words so gentle; fell
and settled to cast a shadow
one night upon my window sill.

I am proud to be a frog, though I know not why.
The green of my skin, so utterly devine;
as to what others say, (to which I am blind)
'You are proud to be a frog, though we do not know why'.

To that last day, that final hour.
Upon those fleeting seconds,
When words like death to family seem dour
I will say, lay me to rest beneath the bower

Our love was not more than love
Extraordinary or out of the ordinary
Note worthy or otherwise more
It was forgiving

Mourn for the child that has gone into the thicket
Tangled and twisted up in its thorns
He is lost but still heard amidst the crows scorning
Go home will he no more

It matters not
Whether your beautiful
You are
It is your essence that I desire

For all he is, and once was
He is not now
His face has broken in youths folly
A smile has become it’s crown

Who will mourn for you but me?
My sorrow is enshrined in your laughter
Eyes that see only things that they wish to see
Words that you spoke without knowing


Had you but one more winter
Had you not rode out to the plains
Had not the the clock struck the hour
Had not it shattered as a pane


Bring me down to you
As I see myself, I am too high
Lift my head, cradle my neck
With your lips draw my eyes


Tick, Tock
Calculating, calculating
Atomic clock
Light wave

I was there,
when you said you loved me.
And I loved you.
In all that is right and wrong,

I was sad,

In a pale blue day.
On a winding road.
Around a dead twisted oak.
Through the freezing snow

What a strange fellow.
His essence seems to be of wants and needs and dreams and hope.
Selfish at the core, hateful in his ways.
In all a walking contradiction.

I saw her just once.


When the day is done,
when all lights have gone and every one is too.
What are we left with?

Shirow Walker Biography

I don't really want to call any of my posted works poems. In truth, they are pretty much short works. Words that form an egg shell around personal philosophy. If they rhyme, then it is more by chance than design. A lot of my work talks about something almost totally different then what you would expect just reading it literally. Some of them have small clues and others don't. The only person who ever will know what they are about is me. I write to accentuate my memory and for my enjoyment, not for anyone else.)

The Best Poem Of Shirow Walker

Little Bird

Sing little bird, I knew you first.
Your words so gentle; fell
and settled to cast a shadow
one night upon my window sill.

To each, their own; it is said,
in this I did not deny you;
but in faint light to my bed
you came with twilight's dew.

Between a crook you stayed;
wove a nest of fallen feather
and sang a song longingly
for southern land's warmer weather.

In that winter I studied you,
both wing, nape and breast.
And in my hand I preserved you;
onto which your lore came to rest.

But, in time, winter waned
as spring leapt from seed
and your heart took to sky;
too high for me to reach.

From sky you found a perch
to rest your crown against his cheek.
As your seasons passed to mirth
thier songs echoed through the trees.

Till one day, through frosted glass
I saw you; asleep upon the leaves
and in my heart I mourned you
as no other knew you like me.

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