Leah Ward

Leah Ward Mar 2013

You are a cell
At the bottom of the sea.
Struggling in the dark
Wanting to be free.
Alive as you are
Tiny as you seem,
The world feeds you hope
Through little lights with little gleam.
Steady you are not,
Wobbly as you go
Tossed about the current,
Brought to and fro.

You are a cell
At the bottom of the sea,
Wishing wanting growing,
Waiting to be free.

Leah Ward Mar 2013

A Reminder

This is a reminder to myself.
I'll put it in a place I'll remember to look.

When I lift open the cover of a book other than my favorite,
or struggle to reach titles from top shelves, I will be reminded
Of how inadequacy felt when I first met you.

I will be reminded of how slowly your thumb runs across my palm,
Simply by its lingering absence, as I sit silently in an audience
of other symphony goers orchestrating our bereft greetings which lead
To our brief meetings.

This is a reminder to myself of how
Very impolite it is to smile without valid occasion
As I check the clock to see that it is 11:11, and know
That you are doing, smiling, at the exact same
as a reminder to yourself of myself, and the love that
Grows greater between the affirming tock of every second.

Leah Ward Mar 2013

The Pilgrimage of Plightly Might

I slept through a dream in which the flowers wouldn't grow,
And all the books were written in languages I didn't know.

I myself was enfixed within a village,
Perplexed by its lack of esteem,
And its lights and their lack of algeam.

I danced around this dreary place,
And ran into other dreamers,
That dwelled in the same the tragedy I feebly faced.

The villagers were somber,
Silent in their trudge,
Never allowing their enslaved minds to wander
Trivializing their reluctant grudge.

I waltzed through their pilgrimage,
As freely as I could,
But of the purpose of their mindless journey,
Is something I never understood.

It was a dreadful situation,
The most serious of all plights
In which the most wonderful of ideas
Couldn't take flight.

We arrived at our destination,
Though it never was in view.
And soon the of denunciation
of any sort of act of wondrous might
Would promptly ensue.

Impatiently I waited
Shifting feverishly in my place,
Forever waiting for the awakening
of the of minds of null space
That left my confidence wavering.

Soon a ghastly figure appeared,
and announced to the multitude
An inevitable fate inevitably feared:
Our generation had arrived at a
Gruesome interlude.

But then it all ceased,
My eyes fluttered open
And I sat up straight last not least.
Thank heavens my mind could only imagine
Such imagination decreased.

Leah Ward Feb 2013

On Beaches

I allow myself to love you
Although you drift back and forth to me
Like the tide does to the shore.
You are rushes of warm salt water
That are all too confident in knowing
That the patience I carry
Exceeds the amount of grains of sand
That rest on beaches
That quietly await the sun.
What will you do
When you return from sea
And realize that the coast
Was slowly eroded away by
The storm you brought with you?

Leah Ward Feb 2013

The Adventures of Ruth T. ******

Ruth T. ****** put her cigarette between
Her chapped lips and sighed
As she started the dishes.
She was feminine in the same way
that Clint Eastwood is; She wasn't.
"Mama?"
"Oh god!" Ruth squealed,
Allowing the cigarette to fall
From her mouth into the sink where
It went out with a sizzle.
"I don't mean to scare you none,"
"What?"
"Where's Papa? He said he'd be
Home tonight to help me fix my wagon
For Bugsy."
"Well he isn't." Ruth resumed
The dishes in the same way that one
would pick up a book.
"But where is he?"
"I don't know ******!" But she most
Certianly did know. "Did you string the
Laundry on the line like I told you to?"
"No."

Rosie J. ****** fell asleep that night,
Thinking that she had deserved
Exactly what her Mama had
Done to her left eye.

Leah Ward Feb 2013

Conceivable Normal Girl meets The Flame

I fill the place of the inconceivable super babe,
While she takes her time to grace
Your life with her precious existence,
As she is too busy being elsewhere currently.
She lurks in the future, as perfect as she is,
She can't seem to trespass the bearings of time.
Well that's just awful, I say as we sit on the bus seat,
me where she otherwise would be.

Some person
who may not even exist
Takes priority over me.

If I didn't practice empathy so well,
I would run around your life
Like a kid in a candy shop,
Unsupervised,
And steal everything of yours that I could.
Every memory would be mine, every first
Every last, shoved into my socks my boots
My coat pockets my hat.

I wish sympathy wasn't my speciality
Otherwise I'd say quit wasting my time,
I know what you're doing because
I would do it too.

I wish I wasn't selfish,
Because the poison I keep in keeping you,
Has found it's way into my coffee finally.
If I really loved you, If I had the courage to,
I'd let you go.

I wish I wasn't so afraid, otherwise I'd dispose of you
As you once will with me.
But these bindings you've built with your grace, and charm
And you're so handsome, keep me here, on this bus,
Next to you,
In place
Of someone inconceivable.

Remember when I told you
That I liked you because you made me feel
Inadequate instead of complete?
And you said
If it ever gets to be a bad feeling of inadequacy
Let me know, because it shouldn't be that way.
It is that way,
When the importance of someone who you have
Yet to have met, trumps the simple existence of me.

Especially when I am not the girl yet to exist.

I'd rather talk about schizophrenics on fire,
Or even be a flaming schizophrenic,
Than continue on with this conversation.

God I hope you read this, you big ****. I hope it breaks your heart.

Leah Ward Feb 2013

The Adventures of Eleanor P. Carney

Eleanor P. Carney sat with her legs folded,
Casually reading a catalogue
As she waited. Her mind drifted
Effortlessly away from Joe until:
"Come this way" said a voice dimmed,
In light of the current situation.
The click of Ellie's t-strap heels
Turned the heads of many
Beauty parlor goers, as she
Was lead to a back door.
A *** of boiling water hosted
Sharp things for slaughter.
"Now, I have to ask,
On account of virtue,
Do you really want to do this?"
The beauty practitioner who
Practiced more than beauty, stood in
The corner, tying an apron
around her thin waist.
Eleanor P. Carney shook her head,
And sat down on the
Cold counter knowing that
She would not regret this.

Ruth L. ****** struggled everyday
To find new ways to disgust herself,
But the lack Ms.Carney's
Shame and guilt would
Do just fine for today.