Christina M. Ward

Digging DEEP. When I was a child I knew 2 things: I loved nature and all the awesome things in it. And, I wanted to WRITE SOMETHING.

Today: I love nature and all the awesome things in it. And, I want to WRITE SOMETHING.

I think sometimes as children we think about what we want to DO and to BE very honestly, before the world starts teaching us all of the rules. Once I ruled out being Wonder Woman (I mean I really did try spinning around in the yard and all it ever got me was dizzy,) I decided I’d be Harriet the Spy and when my handy little notebook remained quite empty of “awesome thought and observations” I moved on to life goals of being a hair band groupie. With that being said and all other hopes and dreams aside…here’s a little something I wrote my Junior year of high school, about 472 years ago, before I had anything substantial to write about (don’t you dare tell that to the me back then!) and before I knew the voice that would come to be known as my “voice,” or my “writer’s voice” or whatever pet name you give to it. (But stay away from calling it the “voices in my head” because, well, that’s personal.

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 Written before my children were born. I knew I loved you, even then. This is for my boys.

You

You are a Morning Glory
bringing a little beauty
into each new day
that life may bring.

You are my purple skies
when the setting sun
touches the horizon
when day is done.

You are my starlight
in the heavens above
you are my silent night
you are my love.

Christina Ward
(1990)

I haven’t attempted to rhyme since. Rhyming is too sing-songy for me but I would attempt to if the subject matter seemed to call for it. It is very interesting to me to see this early poem and think about how much my writing style has changed. I have a couple of poems from those early years of writing, one of which seems to be the earliest version of my writer’s voice that I could find. I am about 95% certain that I wrote this my senior year of high school. I will correct this if I find proof otherwise. Note the difference in styles from the previous poem to the following one, which is much more consistent with my current writing style (although, don’t get me wrong, You isn’t too terribly bad, if you like that sort of thing. Consider the second poem…

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Suspended Sunset

Sly, red-orange arrows
shoot out across
almost empty sky.

Sun peeks over horizon
lingering there
delaying its departure, why?

Do you not have some place
of equal beauty to touch
with warmth, renewal?

 A lonely Ring-billed gull
shrieks in protest
and snatches one last delicacy.

Waves roll white-tipped
scooping sand, pulling back into itself,
whispering secrets into cream-colored conchs.

Perhaps a goodnight to the lingering orb
as she pulls herself down and beyond
stringing her colors behind her.

Red-orange bleeds into plum
plum fades to gray
your fingertips withdrawn once more

to leave us to the night
to stars that beckon dreamers
and moon that lulls the sea.

Christina Ward
(1991)

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Thank you for reading…what did you think of the two poems? Would you like to compare/contrast? What early poems have you dusted off and fearlessly shared? Comments and thoughts welcome. Happy writing!

Christina