The Calf Song — a poem

The Calf Song

From the backside of a smile
I rise, discontented.


Inside my eyelids
a dream sleeps
between measures
keeping the beat,
each a credulous mark
upon my heart song.


The calf lies waiting,
wobbly legs unable
to bear its load upon its
hoof and foot.


It stands, behind my eyes
rising in ignorant content.


It cannot sing my song
or read my notes
or match my steps through
crescendo,
staccato,
and pause.


The calf accepts
warm milk waiting,
without thought
of the rain.

by: Christina Ward

If you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy:

https://fiddleheadsnfloss.com/2019/02/16/cornucopian-dream-a-poem-for-my-fellow-earth-lovers/

The Pepper Mill — My poem is Featured in Vita Brevis Magazine

I am so honored that one of my poems was chosen for publication by Vita Brevis Magazine. Another was also chosen and will be featured next week.

https://vitabrevisliterature.com/poems/poet-christina-ward/

Stop by and check it out! Thank you Vita brevis Magazine 🙂

Sorrow, A Poem of Mystery that will leave you wanting more…

Sorrow

Skipping stone bouncing across your surface
A tearing pain no one can see
You scream out toward the distance
Stretching out from between your knees

Why can’t anyone hear the baby crying?
Standing red-faced, hands over rail
Knuckles gone white from gripping
One long, steep unending wail

She wasn’t there the night before
Out tramping through the woods alone
She can’t hear the baby anymore
Out searching for stepping stones.

One last argument bent her backwards
One last tearing apart of her nails
One last long sorrow will be hers
When the baby falls over the rail.

I hope you have enjoyed this, my newest poem “Sorrow,” which I wrote while the bath water was running…because sometimes, you just have to POEM. 🙂 Weird too, because I rarely rhyme in my poetry. Well, the poem tells me, I don’t tell it how to be. One thing I love about writing is that I never know where it is leading me. I am along for the journey and I love that.

If you enjoyed this….you may also like:
https://fiddleheadsnfloss.com/2019/02/15/gone-a-poem/
https://fiddleheadsnfloss.com/2019/02/22/desperately-seeking-oblivion/
https://fiddleheadsnfloss.com/2019/02/13/dust/


Celebrate with Me! I’m Too EXCITED to Sleep!!

Woman Jumping Wearing Green Backpack

Today, in stands RIGHT NOW, is a newspaper, with an article WRITTEN BY ME. It is the first of what will be a standing column of opinion pieces. I am told by the editor that my poetry “will also go over well with readers.”

I hope to use the platform to develop a few new skills, get some print experience, and of course — it’s great exposure!

So it’s sitting there at the news stand. Patiently waiting for readers. I doubt I will be able to wait until after 3 pm when mine will come in the mail.

I think I will go buy 10. I mean, it’s my first article!!

And I am too excited to sleep. So I thought I’d share my good news with YOU GUYS. My readers.

Thank you for being a reader 🙂 If you enjoy reading my blog, will you please share it? Or reblog one of your favorites? Help my little baby-blog grow?

Christina Ward
Staff Writer at Observer News Enterprise (!!!)

How To Help You Write Beautiful Poems – Learn 2 Poems Styles

 

White Ceramic Teacup With Saucer Near Two Books Above Gray Floral Textile

Let’s talk syzygy. (Ok so I learned a new word today and couldn’t resist adding it in…)


noun, plural syz·y·gies.

1. Astronomy . an alignment of three celestial objects, as the sun, the earth, and either the moon or a planet: Syzygy in the sun-earth-moon system occurs at the time of full moon and new moon.
2. Classical Prosody . a group or combination of two feet, sometimes restricted to a combination of two feet of different kinds.
3. any two related things, either alike or opposite.

We will consider the third definition of syzygy. I have for you a couple of poem equations that may lead you to your next big poem. Are you up to the challenge?
Two examples will help to explain.
The first example, I call parallel poetry writing. You will take an example of :
1. an inanimate object or a train of thought
and add
2. an action
to equal your poem.
The item in #1 will be the actual topic of your poem but you will borrow imagery and descriptive words from the action you have chosen. 
For the parallel version of this poetry challenge, the two things you have chosen will be similar in some way so that the comparison isn’t too forced, uncomfortable, confusing, or stark. Here is my example of a poem that I wrote using this method:
thoughts of a child + swinging on a swing = Yesterdays
Now for the second example, I call juxtaposed poetry writing. You will, again, take an example of:
1. an inanimate object or a train of thought
and add
2. an action
to equal your poem.
The item in #1 will be the actual topic of your poem but you will borrow imagery and descriptive words from the action you have chosen. 
Only this time, the two things will have very little, if anything, in common. Here is my example of a poem I wrote using this method:
thoughts on being a poet + the cleaning of a fish (butchering) = The Poet Cleaning ~ (a poem about being a poet/writer)
Now, anyone want to give it a try? Choose either of the above methods and write your poem. Post it on your blog with a pingback to this blog post, or email it to me @ fiddleheadsnfloss@gmail.com with your publishing name, a link to your Twitter or your blog for me to do a pingback for you and I will blog some of my favorites.
Now go…go and be a poet 🙂

“Vacant”~ A prose response to the March Speculative Writing Picture”


The following piece of prose is written as a response to the picture below. I have been watching each month the writing prompts from the Myths of the Mirror Blog and have decided to join in on the fun or March. Please enjoy the following short piece of prose entitled “Vacant.”

And let me know your thoughts’ Perhaps you’d like to write something yourself!

March Speculative Writing Prompt 

 

Pixabay image provided by Natan Vance

 

 Vacant

Elwyn traveled by night to avoid the Great Storms which blanketed deserted streets and covered corpses. She didn’t mind. The sun had long since become unbearable. Just one scrap of green was all she needed to restore her hope, but plant life was scarce. Monstrous buildings rising in the dark were her only company, hunger her only solace. At least it meant she was still alive. She looked in the dark for the rats, but on this night, there were none. Rats were both a terror and a guide. Though they feasted on the dead, they also led her to any food source left, any potable water source. Their scarcity predicted a long night of walking, thinking. Her thoughts were devoid of anything but sustenance, always searching for anything to satisfy the hunger that wrought her. It had been 2 days and weakness was setting in, wrapping itself around her and working through her bones like a cancer.

          Her best chance would be the edge of the city where sometimes abandoned homes nestled there in the dust and shadow. If she was lucky. She made her way as quickly as her frailty would allow, as quietly as her pounding heart would permit. It beat in her head a credulous hypnotizing beat that almost reminded her of music. God, she missed music.

          Three more buildings stood vacantly smiling at her and then, then the spires atop a buried fence showed her what used to be the end, or a beginning she didn’t know. Perhaps a property line, she followed them until they disappeared into the dirt. Then she saw the outline of a roof in the ghostly moonlight. She felt her hands along the bricks and made her way along until the light struck the top of a window, not broken. Not broken!

          Her heart raving now Elwyn pounded at it with her elbow, then both her feet. Glass broke with a dull crack and fell inward. She pounded furiously. Glass and wooden framework broke like bones, sand pouring in. She climbed in carefully avoiding sharp angles, dropping onto a hard surface, a desk maybe? Hard to tell. She gave it little thought as her hands were already searching for jars, jugs, cans, anything.  The air was stale and full of death. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light sliding in on a sand stream pouring through the broken window, an hourglass measuring nothing. There was no time anymore. Only sleep, and the desperate searching.

          Her hands roved in the dark over objects and flat surfaces. A jug! A large jug. Her shaking fingers grappled with the lid and she took a deep suspicious sniff. She tipped the large container carefully until she felt a splashing on her hand. She tasted timidly, her tongue on the back of her hand. Water.

          Elwyn drank, deep sloppy gulps.  She collapsed against the wall, sand sifting through her hair, and she drank.

 

~Christina Ward

3/3/2019

 

If you enjoyed this piece of writing, check out some of these:

Horizons

In Memorium

No Return

A difficult Funeral, Beautifully Expressed by Imagery-Rich Poetry

We’ve all had to attend a funeral. It is a difficult thing to do, especially when the person we love has died suddenly or at a young age or both. When I found out that my Aunt Donnise was ill and in the hospital, I went to see her. My Uncle was understandably distraught. She died a day or two later and I am told she was reaching out her hand into the air and speaking of Jesus.

During the time tWoman in Black Long-sleeved Cardiganhat this was happening in my life, a song was very popular and getting a lot of airtime on mainstream radio. This song, Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance, gave me great comfort in an odd way. The poem I wrote of attending my Aunt’s funeral was greatly influenced by this song, and also by another song by my FAVORITE band of ALL TIME, Rain King by the Counting Crows. You will see in the poem a line in quotes from the My Chemical Romance song and a reference to black-winged birds from the Counting Crows song. I hope you will check out these two brilliantly written songs, and I hope you will read the following poem that I wrote about my Aunt Donnise’s funeral.

In Memoriamraven-988218_960_720

 

Giant pillars stood there
rooted in their weaknesses,
wearing their faces of sin.
Tears like ashes
spread across their cheeks.
Smiles, no one wanted
to smile.

Pillars wrapped in cloaks
of brick and color and voice.
Their stained-glass faces
depict gifts I still
don’t deserve.

(“Paint it black and take it back.”)

I walked in,
crows on my shoulders
feathers in my skin
dust pouring out of my eyes
and watched them speak of you.

I wish I had been there
to see you reaching out
wooden fingers
An empty casket arm
trying to bridge the space
Between your brokenness
and His glory.

I am glad He took your hand.

Your dust swept away…
may black-winged birds be light
and quick with your soul!

He’s been waiting for you.

If you enjoyed this original poem by Christina Ward, please leave a like and/or comment and check out these that you may enjoy:

Desperately Seeking Oblivion

Holiness ~ a poem about Grace

Gone ~ A poem

If you have written any poetry in memory of someone you love, you are welcome to add a link to a comment!! God bless, and hug your loved ones. Our time with them is short.

~Christina

“Yesterdays” is Featured in Wolff Poetry Literary Magazine

Celebrate with me!!!

“Yesterdays” is featured in Wolff Poetry Literary Magazine

Woman Posing Like Fairy

Happy Dancing y’all. If anyone wants to share the post featuring my poetry, I’d be delighted. It’s a great day to be a writer.

~Christina

Hoppy-Toads in the Summer ~ a poem

 

Black and Brown Frog Sitting on White Concrete Floor

I don’t know about you but when I was a child the summers were magnificent. Long hot days spent out in the yard, playing in our sand box and on the swing set my daddy built. He also built our sandbox which had a second floor with a tire ladder to climb up. There was also a circular arrangement of logs he stood up on end and held together with a chain that made a spiral staircase. He painted the tops of them different colors. We’d play “Cops n Robbers,” chasing each other through the tall grass, June bugs slapping against our shirts. We drove our Hotwheels in the sandbox, wetting the sand with the garden hose so we could build things out of the wet sand. We chased butterflies, followed ants, captured caterpillars and begged mom for a Styrofoam cup or a jar to put them in. We rode our Big Wheels, our bikes, and our scooters.  The sun set late. If we were playing down the street, we’d come home when the street lights came on. This later time of the day was the perfect time to find what we called hoppy-toads. If you’ve never gone hoppy-toad huntin’ in the waning of a summer day, then I implore you to take up your bucket and give it a try. Enjoy this ode to the hoppy-toads that lived in our yard and brought me great joy as a child.

Hoppy-Toads in the Summer

 

Hoppy-toads grow fat
tucked behind cool gray
stones and fragments of brick.
A yellow bucket nestles
there, waiting. 

Determined,
I take up my bucket
The white plastic handle
Digging into my arm.
I set out.


I lift each rock carefully
Disturbing the grass
Unveiling worm and cricket.
I search for them
In the cool, dark places.


The edge of the driveway
No stone unturned
But to no avail.
I set my eyes on the
Row of bricks beside our house.


Finally, a fat one leaps
But I am fast.
I scoop him up and
Plop! He squats into
The corner of my bucket.

Hoppy-toads like friends,
I think, and search for him
A mate. A companion.
The third brick hides her.
Plop! Into the bucket she goes.

Writing Exercise to help your writing – So Simple and Fun!

Word Search

pexels-photo-256798

Ever feel as a writer that your vocabulary has become a bit….well, stagnant?

This is an exercise that I do ever so often to hit the refresh button on my vocabulary bank.

It is so stupidly easy, that you may not have thought to do it before!

It is simply called : Word Search.

So, get out that pen with the fuzzy unicorn or the jingle bells on it or open a sticky on your screen and get ready to type…we are going on a word hunt.

This time I want you to go down a wormhole on the internet. Or in an old book of poetry. Or, *gasp* the newspaper.

Look through poems and prose of other writers

but do not READ them…

* * * search them * * *

Look through anything that interests you (STOP LOOKING AT THE PICTURES AND HEY…HEY…CLOSE YOUTUBE!) Ok, look. Look for words that reach out to you. Focus now, you are on a word hunt!

 

When is the last time you saw a word…

and that word excited you?

Just leapt off the page at you and

grabbed your eyeballs and shook them?

 

Make a list of interesting and new words, any words that may have a new sound, new meaning, new richness.

Look for words that inspire you. Collect these words into a list and shovel them around into twos or threes.

Look for words that don’t seem to belong together or that present juxtaposition or friction. Also look for words that seem to be working together to go in a direction you can follow.

Perhaps divide them into nouns, verbs and descriptive words that you can go to when you are struggling for a word. (And never, ever write without a Thesaurus…but that’s another day, another blogpost.)

Keep this list for times when you struggle to find something new to write. 

 

Now, one more thing before I leave you to it….forget about meaning for a moment and say some of these words OUT LOUD, just to see how the words taste and sound to you:

 

loop                                                          zygote
slant

                                                                                                     circuit
worms

lusty

dawn                                                                          requiem    

                                                                                                            lupine  

                      

accordian

peacock

                                     breastless                                                                                                                                                                teacups                                        sunken

arid

                                                        delicate

lamplight                             molten

                                 mothless

                      stamped

blade                         hairless

filter

Golgotha                                   mantle

sea urchin

ritual                                                                                                     illicit

                                                       archaic

sewn

strewn

            drivel

If you’ve noted that these aren’t super-fancy words, be reminded that while schistosomiasis may be one of my favorite words, I rarely get to use it in my writing. It’s the smaller words we tend to build with and they must not bore us. I also keep lists of words that I have never seen before. See a word for the first time? Snatch it up!! Look it up!! Taste it. Use  it.

Feeling inspired to find your own words? Your own breadcrumbs to the next sentence to be written? 

Words feed us. And then…we write.

Happy word hunting!!

~Christina

 

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