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 Aug 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
Visitor
 Aug 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
Open doorway
and there you stand, backlit.
Only feet away
yet too many steps too far.

A heavy veil of shadow
draped over your face.
Stand there, forever,
as I try to discern who you are.

.
 Aug 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
Maim
 Aug 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
The words weren’t daggers.
Weren’t meant to ****.

They were spindly,
like needles.
But barbed.
So they latch.



I’m not grievously wounded.
Yet I’m still bleeding out...


.
 Aug 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
Release
 Aug 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
The exhale is a relief
as the heart in my ear
slips subtly away;
back into the emptiness
in the dark.

So again I fill my chest.
And I’d fill it full.
Again and again.
Until then comes
a deathlike sleep.
 Apr 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
Clockwork
 Apr 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
A nighttime recess.

An awareness embedded
within the thickened folds,
layered - one upon another.

Second upon second.
Minute over minute.
Hour after hour.

Rendering me unheard
and vague.

A stream of consciousness
that runs uncaptured.
Unexplained and unreasoned.

Consistent and tiresome.
Haphazardly predictable.

Routine like
                      clockwork.
 Apr 2019 Timothy Ward
ryn
•high in the
mountains, he grew we-
ary                 and ragged•
•                     his sight turned
                           cloudy, chin un-
                             shaven and face hag-
                                    gard•removed his boots
                                    for his feet did stink•
                                  sleep he wanted but not
                                without a drink•one big
                              swig and he downed it all•
                        then he was asleep before the
                      sun could fall•many days visited,
             many shadows cast•over this slum-
     bering man, many moons had passed
•one fateful day, his eyes did twitch
and then did open•he sprung aw-
ake to the life he had forsaken•his
musket dusty, his clothes in di-
sarray•his chin - a long beard
that has seen countless days•he
ran to his home before noontime
chime•he found only disbelief, for he had slept




a lifetime•
Its time to say goodbye
Goodbye to yesterday
Hello to today
I’ll see you tomorrow
Always look for the bright spot on this gloomy day...
My mind is a capsule
        Holding all the pieces

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pieces to the puzzle
         That I call
                 My life
Just scribbling down some different ideas. Yay or nay?
 Oct 2017 Timothy Ward
ryn
The night was young.
The moon had traversed,
but only a minuscule fraction of the sky.

Between the stars was quiet...
And the breeze gentle.
Waves weren't angry
and they caressed the shore
with unspoken affection.

Ripples in the water took their time
riding the surface -
harnessing, carrying each piece of the moon.
Whispering to each other in a silent pact.
With plans to spread the shards of silver
as far as they could;
before gifting it to the next batch of carriers.

If the moon exploded into a million tiny pieces,
that was what it would look like -
confetti of silver and white
strewn over a large black cloth
that's gently flailing in the wind.

A spectacle of unwavering continuity...
Beauty and grandeur in such
tender unrest...
 Oct 2017 Timothy Ward
ryn
Clutch tight the tail of the sun.
Shed your tethers
and take that ride into the next.

Redeem the possibility
of limitless tomorrows.
Because today was meant to happen
and yesterdays were never meant
to weigh you down.
 Oct 2017 Timothy Ward
ryn
in the soundtrack of my story,
there exists a lone percussionist...
and he plays to fit
the demands of passing moments.

•••

to the calm he plays steady.
in uncertainty he hastens.
he matches the ticks of seconds
when all is quiet,
and he thunders
to crescendoes and climaxes.


•••

in the symphony of my life
there exists a lone percussionist...
and he resides unseen in my chest.
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