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Apr 2016 · 384
First
PB Ward Apr 2016
Oak trees mount mossy slopes… graphing the thin-shrub, need not much light.
Fallen comrades stretch out up the valley, their armor soaked with dew-mist and stuck leaves.
Dry foliage rings around their plinth, daubing their place in the social order.
Dark shades cut short, amalgamating a bond between what is and what can be…

Willow wood leans forward, observing last year’s crop… its focus grounded by fleecing strands.
Bunches shivering in the cold wind, undulate neighbors to tripping the light fantastic.
A swaddling creek serves both life and death, kissing the feet of giants above.
The water flows white off the human path, babbling past a lean-to, set on the lea’s bottom.

Flaxen wood guards the gate of Stygian timber, dark as its cousins ‘round.
The house sitting with the wood, dormant in its lot, thinks nothing of the past.
The forest soon to sleep, they Shiloh* amongst themselves… Next to the graves of the first to go.
*Here, Shiloh is used a be a verb (pronounced Sh-high-low) defined: to embrace and nestle into another being out of happiness and comfort.
The derivative, Shiloh, means “the peaceful one,” and is a proper noun.
Nov 2015 · 7.4k
Loser's Anthem
PB Ward Nov 2015
We are the *******, we are the spicks.
We are the kykes, we are the hicks.
We're the one's who wait our turn,
To read the books you wish to burn.

We are the honkies, the mussies with guns.
We are the beaten, the poor and the dumb.
We see the horrors, the mistrust and the hate.
We are the people, the ones who relate.

We are the chinks, the bindis, the *****.
We are the losers, the mixed and the muts.
We are alone, left to fight.
We are the ones crying at night.

We are the triggers, set on the gun.
We are the fighters, refusing to run.
We see the world through darkened glass.
We see each other as mutants to pass.

If only we learn, it could be done...
We are all different, but we are all one.
Jul 2015 · 476
If Only
PB Ward Jul 2015
He lazily wonders, "would it be best,
to manifest,
this array as a poem?"...

Dribbling, drabbling, splishing and splashing,
Summer's scorn whirls unlashing.
Gutter strikes throng cluttered pipes,
filled to burst before crashing.

Concrete delta, chizzled from steel,
devouring, steadily, it's only meal.
Here to stay, but ready to leave,
they swifly pass throughout their eve.

Porch roof wet, drip by the drop,
along the guardian's shielded top.
The sky yields for the setting sun,
but in the night, the bombers run.

Booming strikes desparetely fight
to enter the darkness, and win back the light.
So many things, all the same,
block mountains, laying their claim.

Slicing into theatrical waves,
luck guides as a strider braves.
Running as well, the Tempest to test...
both he and the storm, the other one craves.

Sitting back in his safe little home,
the boy becomes worried,
of becoming too grown.

"How to put into words..."
"This moment may never be seen again."
"Almost gone... lost to the birds..."
"Holding on between a thought and a pen."
Apr 2015 · 478
The Change in Your Pocket
PB Ward Apr 2015
The change in your pocket,
    Comes and goes with the ebbing tide.
Drawn by the Moon, She circles the Earth,
    Giving equally, but not the same.

Taken as much as it's given,
    But received by only a few.
How it balances out in the end,
    A beautiful symphony of noise, love and hate.

The change in your pocket,
    Tells a story that none can hear.
Apr 2015 · 336
Old Friend
PB Ward Apr 2015
I met an old friend today.
      We embraced with a force that lives within.
The realest moment of my life is in his warmth;
sobbing like life was dead until this moment.

'How can you be so sure God exists?' I ask through the tears
"He's holding us together right now,
nothing on Earth can bind so tight and feel so free."

'I don't know how I can breath without your scent.
I don't think I can repay what was lent."

"You will be for me,
    you will be my tree."

'How is this possible? You planted my seed,
     Tended to my roots, so I may be freed.'

"They were tended with that which makes man great,
     they were tended not by me, but by fate."

'Don't you lie to me,
     Don't have me sip that mortal tea.'

"Where do you think we are?
     Lost.
          But never afar."

"Hold me as you would,
     But wake up,
          You should."
Feb 2015 · 352
Every Day
PB Ward Feb 2015
The day to day operations
strung together with useless ventures
are immaterial to the happiest man alive,
who waits to silence nobody,
but the doubt in his own mind

Pushing the door open, it starts off weighing the world.
Pulled, together, by the powers to be.
Pulled, apart, by the powers, can't see.
The gate holding back the answers
is only accessed from inside

What is not yet known
takes some time... to be revealed...
not doing 'that,' itself, because magic only happens
when the sorcerer becomes
the learned student

Mistakes are miracles in disguise:
seen from the top, as they are,
but reeled from the bottom, as broken dreams
Feb 2015 · 354
Stuck
PB Ward Feb 2015
Silky white perfection
     Glistens as one from afar,
widening its gaze into countless outward eyes;
     Sinking back through their past lives...
flying like a kite, cut through its wing.
    His shadow, blends with his brothers'
Hiding spots, not to spoil the surprise

It's anyone's guess as to where he did lay
    Waiting patiently to die.
But, as contentment is birthed into a different set of eyes,
     His presence blows not away
But  sticks...
     Like the spider Web, reaching out to touch her face
He is not scared by the gentle breeze

Ignoring Earth's carriers, they silence God, himself.
     And let Man be.
a girl
    Knowing nothing of what she sees.
Afraid to step back
    And lose her new place
Frozen in time, until all eyes close...
Feb 2015 · 474
Not Quite There
PB Ward Feb 2015
Get up, change the feel
Explore a world, quite not real
Encapsulate who you what
Let free, the purebred mut

Cliché, name of the game
The fray, seems always the same
Drowned in light, halted in time
What is yours, not truly mine

Run the reel
Change the feel
Cast a shadow, reveal your range
Believe it's time, to feel the change
PB Ward Jan 2015
Born of the Earth, set to the Sun
Purposeful life, there only is one
Or so He thinks, the sprouting Seed,
Blind in the wisdom, of his own Creed.

The light throughout is owed to He,
For even the stars grow His young Tree
Some One was heard, some Thing was said,
Fear now stricken, the Once Bright now dead

Hurried to save the path once knew,
Forgets the others, Who made He true
Follows the Light into the Dark,
There, surely, will be made this new mark

“They will look to me, from below,
Ready to die, just to see me grow.”
His mind consumed, his world run,
Those once loved, He started to shun

A strange Eagle, birthed to the tree,
Flies to Her perch, so they both may see
“Who is You?” Whispers the Bird
Takes to the sky, not another word

Ponders Her query, stuck be He
Who else to share with? The lonely Tree
“Where will I go? Who am I from?
To Who’s magic Beat, is My great Drum?”

From all the way up, a Bud falls,
Hitting the ground, He silently calls,
“Too early in life, You are Gone,
A flower you’d be, only by dawn”

“You are Mistaken, but not wrong
I am near your roots, where I belong.
Born of the Earth, set to the Sun
No one is dying, We are all one.”
Aug 2014 · 316
Untitled
PB Ward Aug 2014
The indelible cruelty which once was,
Eats at the heart of a very warm love.
Hungry to fill that emotionless tap,
She's Quenched by the river of a poor sap.

Filled with hate, full of rage,
Trying just to write one more page.
He searches the earth, both near and far,
Pass the *****, gimme a **** bar.

Drown yourself in deadly sin,
Maybe your choices will do you in.
Can't believe it's come to this,
Losing the battle, slitting the wrist.

The light of his life just fills up the cave,
Where hatred and vengeance lead the way.
"Follow me," each one has said,
"We'll take you back to the land once lead."

He thought for a moment, sat for a day,
Pondering exactly what he should say.
Thank you my friends, thanks for the call,
But sometimes waiting, is the best move of all
Aug 2014 · 356
home
PB Ward Aug 2014
I said hello and it was returned
Almost stone cold
Places are the same where me meet up
Somethings diffent, but will not change

Flowers refuse to sway your touch
Glance at me, but I'll never see
Epitaph on a cool spring day
Meets a smile, to fade away

I'll see you at home, to my reply
You never left me, I'll never die
May 2014 · 1.0k
Sophistication
PB Ward May 2014
How to expand your vocabulary,
Quite incidental, actually.
Feed the need, that craving inside,
Bury the pip, symbols collide,

Confide in a way brevity insists,
Cast from heaps of molten lists.
Impossible sentiment proven not,
Paramount structure, stir the ***.

Rot and dross swathe the beast,
Desperate for light, look to the East.
Irate in anguish, confined to doom,
Within the partition of the Lazarus tomb,

Displeased, they persist, clang the facade.
The home, the locale, of our very own God.
Indelible musing forms the rock,
Which from overhead, the horde did mock.

“Crock is what you mean to me!”
Bellow they do, around Judas tree.
Not ‘till the end, their faith to heal,
Endeavor to crack the Devil’s seal.

Reel and teeter, the flock ****** to awe,
The phonies true, their passion raw.
Once impalpable, begins to soar
Above them all, a Monster no more.
May 2014 · 419
Cliche
PB Ward May 2014
Here for the now, don’t have a cow
Can’t always win, but sure can sin
Mention the stars, where are the bars?
Anxiety’s back, got an attack

Lookin’ for love, no help from above
Swing and a miss, went for the kiss
Gold don’t shine, at least when it’s mine
Writing for you? Nah, just what I do

Can’t help but think, get me a drink
Flow hot like a stream, turned into steam
Now for the here, shifted a gear
Not gonna lose, still want some *****

Havin’ some fun, not quite done
Gimme the grass, kiss my ***
**** that’s a crime, call it a rhyme
What can I say? I’m a little cliche
May 2014 · 633
Morse Code
PB Ward May 2014
Hit it and quit it, no remorse
Code for I should watch my back
At it again, don’t even care
For her, I would do anything
She says, “you make me happy”
Just to be alive, seems perfect
Feelings put you in your place
Your heart for everyone to see
What happens when you fail
Your love when you need it
Starts to feel *****
Karma’s a real *****
Never coming back
At it again, don’t even dare
As if you’ll fall for that again
May 2014 · 317
Not Feelin' It
PB Ward May 2014
I just don’t think I’m feeling this one;
Actually jealous of his little finger, still in the sun.
Shut up and work, stop moving around;
I’m gonna’ string you up if you make one more sound.

Definitely not feelin’ it, haven’t for a while;
Just an empty shopping cart at the end of their aisle.
Do as you’re told, think like WE do;
I’m telling you son, listen up or you’re through.

Can’t spread my wings around this place;
Can’t stop seeing myself as some ******* disgrace.
Ha ha, you’re just not used to the dark;
Let your eyes adjust a lil’, they’ll catch a spark.

Yeah yeah, heard it all before, there’s no such thing as a cheap trick;
Go ahead, grab a plate, I’m serving up fresh **** on a stick.
When life hands you lemons, you know what to do;
But when lemons hand you life, gonna’ try something new?

Oh well, I’ll just sit here dreaming about those rays;
I might actually do something about it, one of these days.
Funny how the stars press firmly against the night;
Sprinkled in a sea of black, the bright lonely light.
May 2014 · 302
Where to Begin?
PB Ward May 2014
And why to be, for those who won’t see
a troubling mist, a blissful twist
the end was coming, the end was near
oh where the final mark did stop, ‘twasn’t clear

Spoke from the heart, heard from the soul
acted as if, ‘twere nothing t’all
he flew like an eagle, but thought like a tree
all well and good, his graces would be

How to finish, oh where to begin
ponders the reaper, whetting his grin
“don’t mind me, I won’t be long.
What’s given, got... ‘twas mine all along”
PB Ward Apr 2014
Teach me how to write a poem.
Heart to pen, pen to paper,
Why should I read Whitman, Joyce, and all the rest?
Why is it they who are the best?

Teach ME how to write a poem!
Pen to paper, paper to trash;
I don’t need to hear their crap;
hear the sob story of some sap.

Teach me how to write a poem.
Paper to trash, trash to regret;
why can’t I feel out loud?
I wanna be known; I wanna be proud...

Teach me how to write a poem.
Regret to change, change ‘till it’s over.
Maybe one day people will know who I am;
maybe one day they’ll feel it, person to person, man to man.

Teach me how to write a poem.
Maybe they've climbed up from hell;
maybe they earn what they lack.
Maybe others just wanna' pay it back.
Jan 2014 · 473
Simple
PB Ward Jan 2014
The birds and the bees,
the wind and the trees
follow a path that no man has set,
follow a leader; taking a debt.
Ready to die, ready to fly,
what’s the difference, but to try...

— The End —