Author: Christina M. Ward
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The Waters Run Clean Through Me
a poem about the North Carolina Mountains Deep in the North Carolina wood nestled between steep mountainous rises, a gorge, through which run waters, crisp and cool and clean. A bench waits there for my soul. The waters run clear, cross rock and moss, with dribbling sounds and meandering thoughts of the distant seas. The canopy hangs over. Shady oasis of quietude…
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Nectar Dreams
a poem about the tiny creatures we often miss Nectar Dreams Walking sticks, June bugs,Bumble bee, Wooly Bearsall came out to playand when the streetlights at last were litthe fireflies lit the way.The June bugs, in droves,in whispering swarmsslapped against our chestsemerald green-backed and shining,the airborne jewels in summer vests. Where have all the June bugs…
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Seed to Earth–an Environmental Poem
a poem of life Fruit trees drop them one, two, three…we twist some free.Flesh-juice skinned; we wipe the sugarydribble from our chins. Time melts flesh from the fallen in weathered decay,seed to earth to green in the floweringseasonal swing of thingslife continues still. Pine trees drop them one, two three…serotinous and resin-rich, pregnant with seed,Flame…
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A Yellow House in Iredell County
A poem — to immortalize a love worth telling and a house that carries their memories in its heart Nestled… in the dappled Spring sunlight peeking through oaks, maples, and Tulip poplar is a country house with pale-yellow siding.Across a corner of the weathered wooden-slatted front porch, a vine lazily stretches to find a spot in the sun. Inside, the navy-blue carpet…
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Cottonwood Wings
a poem for my son to read at the funeral You might want to read this first In the Spring, God brings forth life Cottonwood drifts by on the wind. We water our gardens with tears for we have lost a dear friend. Her kindness grew like tulipsProud and colorful and tallHer compassion, a vine…
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On Dappling Pond
a poem about the beautiful Mandarin duck and the not-so-beautiful Muscovy duck On Dappling Pond White, crisp half-moon, the blue crested melt to ruddy hind swoop. Tawny wings tucked under, belted by royal blue. Sleek chest, brazen blue as ocean-deep. Neck ringed in maple majesty lace. Enlightened, resplendent, …
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The Mourn
a poem about the emotional trauma of hysterectomy in time, eggs drop as they maya crimson furnace burnswaits for themthen rejects even the idea of babies babies that refuse to be boundand tear their way outleaving you to your stitches these eggs, they stay now…where are they to go?a furnace burnt outremoved scoop by scoopfleshy…
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Medium is a Great Way to get Your Poetry Noticed
Here’s how! Hiya Fiddleheads! (That’s what I call my writer friends these days–out there nurturing your dreams and rising in the sun!) If you are interested in promoting your poetry, your articles, your photography, then this is the post for you. Where have I been lately? I have been on Medium, making a little money…
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#Kindness–We Need More of it Now!
Empathy on the decline in America Declared this day, April 26, 2019 a federally threatened concept: Kindness. My father likes to spoil cashiers. It’s nothing creepy or stalky or flirty. He simply picks up a candy bar when he’s waiting in line, pays for it with his groceries, then hands it to the cashier and…
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Fiddleheads & Floss–WHERE Did THAT Crazy Name Come From???
Your gifts, YOU BEAUTIFUL FIDDLEHEAD YOU, are meant to be shared with the world. So RISE, unfurl, stand in the sun,, and share your creative spirit with those around you and BE YOUR TRUEST SELF!
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