r. ward

The Egg

R. Ward — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 03:43:00 +0000

–another writing assignment from my creative writing class. This time, we listened to Frou Frou’s “Let Go”, and afterwords had to write an 8 line poem, 3 words per line…all based around what happens if you were holding an egg in your hand, and decided to let it go. What happens after that is up to the writer. Where/if it lands, if it breaks, what does it look like, or, writing symbolically or metaphorically about something else entirely. The trick to this assignment…every time you write a letter, you have to “let go” of your writing utensil (place it on your desk, let go, then pick it back up to do the next letter, and so on). It restricts how fast you can write, and forces the writer to become more creative, and take time to develop the story. Here is my contribution:

Bombs falling snowflake
Winter’s yellow treat
Shattered shell shellacked
One final drop
Hatched, forced birth
Like space shuttle
Re-entry burns bright
Man in flight.

Cloud Nine

R. Ward — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 03:35:38 +0000

–my creative writing class is embarking on a series of writings called “child’s play.” The idea is that, as we get older, we lose boldness in our creativity because we fear embarrassment, rejection, or ridicule from those that we share our ideas with. For the first assignment, we went outside on a near perfect spring day, and bedded down in the grass, to gaze at clouds (like you used to when you were a kid). The goal was to watch the clouds, find one that stood out, and create a story based on the shape/movement of the cloud. Here is my contribution:

“The Firebird”

The firebird glided with the ease of a butterfly, one week old, having already emerged from its cocoon, and oblivious to a not too distant death, gazed and searched my cataracted eyes, to see if what I believe, who I am, and what I do, match up with what the sceptics say I’m not, the hypocrites preach what I won’t, and the wise men have learned what I haven’t yet, or will it rest on my arm, defend to the death my liberty to see things the way that they really are, comprehend the mysteries of the things above and the things below, or protect me from a devil that corrupts my view of a broken world, a shameless self, and a prideful approach to what I believe is mine, what will be mine, and what will never be yours? Or, is it that the firebird comes to remind me, that as I get older, I’ll become more influential, stretched, and recognized by so many eyes, because my vision of the heavens is higher than most?

If I Could Be Half the Man You Are, I’d Be a Fraction

R. Ward — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 01:02:03 +0000

I am the over, not the under
A piece of the puzzle, but never the whole pie
A quarter moon present in a full sky
I’m on sale, and never full price.

Today I’ll be a gentleman to you
Tomorrow I’ll give you the finger
Today I’ll shake your hand
Tomorrow I’ll crush you with my fist
When I see you, its Gentile or Jew
When I see you, its your imperfections that linger
But when I gaze into the mirror stand,
I’m missing the half that makes me whole, first.

Tagged: sermon reflections (tommy)

Why Did the Copycat Cross the Road?

R. Ward — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 03:03:18 +0000

The grass is always greener
on the other side-
unless there is an ocean
between the sky and the road
so its sink or swim
if I choose to go
but ironically, its the same
if I remain where I am,
and trust what I know.
To play it safe
and to bend and not break
is to be still and observe
to conserve energy and wait
is like roots digging for drink
instead, finding a soil of feast
to become gluttons
of the same old thing
and comfort in the growth
if one more ring
But growing tall and moving less
its home to a bird building it’s nest
and if the chicken did cross the road
then I’ll be a copycat of chance
that hope is the color green
and I’m not meant to take a proud stance.

Tagged: sermon reflections (tommy)

Jericho (in a marriage)

R. Ward — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 04:10:55 +0000

The trumpets soar, the army cries
it is not enough
commitment in a march
means doing it more than once
the walls are only temporary
if fortified with orchestral dissonance.
The matrimony melody is a mirage
an oasis in the desert of loneliness
I take a sip of security
and the hearth of harmony quenches
like a picket fence surrounds a city
painted white, just like your dreams
Two become one more than seven times
when the city is seduced by waring crimes.

Somewhere, a symphony plays…

R. Ward — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 19:35:17 +0000

A choir cries
He sinks
we swell.
A trumpet blares
He weakens
we’re strong.
A violin weeps
He bleeds
we heal.
A flute flamingos
He’s struck
we dance.
A clarinet tempers
He’s divided
we unite.
A cello humbles
He’s vacant
we receive.
A drum marches
He’s born
we live.

Tagged: sermon reflections (tommy)

you…me, you…me, you…me

R. Ward — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 05:12:47 +0000

Me can’t see you.
Me can’t reach out to you.
Me don’t equate the math of you.
Me don’t listen to you.
Me won’t follow you.
Me won’t rescue you.
Me shouldn’t feel threatened by you.
Me shouldn’t turn a deaf ear to you.
Me ignore you.
Me disrespect you.
Me fail to serve you.
Me win the game, not you.
Me antagonize you.
Me walk all over you.
Me love me.
You love I.

Tagged: scottie (revision), sermon reflections (tommy)

Handcuffed

R. Ward — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 01:08:11 +0000

I am restrained
limited in movement
unfortunately held back
frozen in time
unable to achieve
no longer deciding
told to eat
robbed of sleep
a caged bird
rat in cage
wish You’re here.

I am suffering
limited in joy
unfortunately held pain
frozen in hell
unable to feel
no longer floating
told to wince
robbed of zeal
back to start
for whom bells
murder of one.

I am excuses
limited in now
unfortunately missing out
frozen in stone
unable to inhale
no longer seeking
told to go!
robbed of self
I waited patiently
it is well!
asleep in light.

Tagged: sermon reflections (tommy)

I Exam

R. Ward — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 00:29:04 +0000

Tagged: sermon reflections (tommy)

What is Real?

R. Ward — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 22:45:12 +0000

The wind screams in delight
it groans in desperate pleas
and then I stood and said,
“you’re not real. Only I exist.”
The tornado intimidates with a twist
the hurricane stares you down with an eye
the tsunami swells in orchestral disaster
but I cannot control or choose to believe
where it comes from
where it goes to
or when it is born
or when it dies
Life has an Alpha and Omega
nothing is known, until I think it.

Gravity puts us in our place
it restricts when revived from sleep
and then I stood and said,
“you’re not real. Only I have weight.”
The sparrow soars to sing
the kite will dance in the atmosphere
Icarus’ wings melted in the sun, not fear
but I cannot acknowledge or choose to admit
that something above
keeps someone below
how enlightened in stature
or how enslaving in persecution
life is full of checks and balances
nothing is felt until I feel it.

Tagged: sermon reflections (tommy)