poem- travels

I love this one.

Shawn L. Bird


you are printed,



journeying to a distant place

unfolding before distant eyes

to be judged

and found worthy

or not.

In time,

you may find

a measure of fame

or fortune between

the pages of some book

but for now

you are just

another manuscript

off in the mail.



(Sending off a short story to a local ‘prestigious’ writing contest.  The story was short listed a couple of months ago in a contest worth twice the prize money, so who knows?  These things are so subjective.)

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