Author Archive

When war came calling,
Nay, crashing down ‘twixt heath and burrow
She fought, unsung
And steadfast, stood alone

Her eyes flashed with ideas
Mouth rapped; her crime, speaking
Heart quashed ‘neath bitter boot
Alone she worked, silenced

When folly or courage
Oft’ in equal measures
Brought spiteful wounds upon his breast,
Silent and alone, by tender touch, she healed him

And when she stood at last
Cried out for a turn to speak
Men and Gods forbade her
In the dark hollow of soul
She wept alone

There, I saw her
Raging silently in the night
Her voice and right, disavowed
Cheeks worn by tears and centuries

And I, with chivalrous design reached out
Erred intent to salve her stinging wounds
For which no balm save Liberty can heal
She rose, a Phoenix, an unbroken Atlas,
Shrugging away a  thankless world
As a sunrise o’er the mountains
Tears worn, a proud banner
She stands Independent
Aflame with courage
She, valiant Woman
Long silent Hero.
Speaks

5-6-2011

I registered today at ScholarshipExperts, which I learned about while attending the STOMP conference at UCLA last month. After registering and filling out several thousand miles of personal details, I was presented with a rather thick list of scholarships to which I might apply, and so I began to peruse them. One scholarship in particular caught my eye, the “Campus Discovery Survey,” which offered a pretty hefty scholarship opportunity in exchange for taking a brief survey followed by an extemporaneous essay on the topic, “What have you gained by going to college and what value have you received?” all in the space of merely 200 words. At best that’s a difficult task, of course; I could already write a volume or two on the benefit I’ve gained from college and I’ve only just finished my first year. So I set out to write as concisely as possible, and about halfway through was rather shocked to discover that lo and behold, my essay was spilling forth in the form of a poem. It’s not my best poem, to be sure, but it’s only half bad, and at the very least it does answer the question. What’s perhaps most amazing of all, though, is the length: it came out to exactly 200 words.

On the Gain and Value of College

One year into my college career, a swelling is growing inside. A sense that’s immense, of something much greater, of words and ideas all echoing close and intense. I’ve learned new confidence, fed by practiced competence, and a wakening awareness of something–many things–more.

For when I was a child, the kind who rarely smiled, such expansive futures were not to be–not for me. For I came from a place not so much full of grace, but of an empty, a doom and a dreary tomorrow or two.

Onto the campus I stepped with much fear, my heart thumping hard and afraid! And the sun lit up bright, showed me all would be right, just a little effort be made. I found new ways to open, new ways to see, new ideas to think on–and a new, better me. So class by class, I’ve gained a new sense of ID-of loved and unknown ones, all part and parcel of me.

Such values as these are rarely expressed, for it seems so unfair, to have their meanings compressed; but assured  may you rest that what I’ve gained from college is the quintessentially best.

The light shines from the radiant page
Awake!
The battle-cry of the textbook, crumpled pages
Marked and marked and marked for more lucid moments.

Tales told and echoed through time
Demand!
Consideration of the eyes and thoughts and sentiments unseen
Who wept and cheered and laughed and bore horror’s torment.

Prose that winds the page like a coiled snake
Dangerous!
Fires set in hearts a century apart, joined in feeling
Yet split by a clock do minds twirl and race and excite by others long since dead

And thunder dwells ‘neath breast and nipple
Uncaged!
Never tamed, but for this fire inside, passed not by seed but word and deed
Alight! This sweet flame, this fickle bitch, this angry, loving, rich and poor
Beautiful monster inside
Destroyer of the world
Creator of the new
Tyrant and Liberator
Embittered and
Softened
Sculpted

Self.

It’s been a year since last Poetic Hell saw a new poem or update; a year in which much has happened. Perhaps most unfortunate of these things is the passing of my grandmother, Iris Ward, lifelong companion of my grandfather, John Ward, whose passing brought me back together with family and loved ones I hadn’t seen in too long.  She lasted just four short months after my grandfather left, and evidently could wait no longer to follow him on his way. I miss her terribly–we all do–but still, she, like my grandfather, gave us a good run, and we were lucky to have had her for as long as we did.

On a happier note, we’ve new additions in the form of new cousins Rory and Sophia, born to my cousins Shawna and Deage respectively, in their lovely families (and pretty close together, too; one in December, the other in January.)

As for me, I’ve returned to school to study literature, philosophy and film as much as possible in the hopes of transferring to a good film school once I’ve finished at the CC level. In two days, a full year will have come and gone, and I’ve got to marvel at what a ride it’s been so far. Lots of fun, mountains of learning, and an ever growing sense of belonging in an academic environment. It’s weird, but I love it.

Now, however, it’s time for some poetry, and to kick things off right (and meet a creative project requirement for a course) I’ll do something unique: Post a brand new poem.

Yeah, umm…be afraid.

For the life of me I can’t remember a thing about this poem, the time it was written or what may have inspired it. But, perhaps, other things are weighing too heavily on me anyway.

Wading

Wading in the sea

Fading emotionally

Reaching inward slowly

A gaze inside I cannot see

Wading in the ocean

Fading my emotion

Reaching in with no commotion

A reflection of a haunting notion

Wading in my heart

Fading from a fire-start

Reaching outward to depart

A half without my counterpart

Wading in darkness

Fading from the starkness

Reaching to hear the harkness

Aching from apartness

Standing on a mountain

Looking ‘cross the cloudy sea

Seeing nothing in the distance

And just of Love, a memory.

9-6-1998

1998-1999 were pretty tough times. It was during this time frame that I lost my son, Nathaniel, who for all intents and purposes was essentially kidnapped by his mother with the assistance, no less, of my father. For a time–a rather long time, I have to admit–I couldn’t really focus much on anything at all. A deep depression sat in and every child I saw reminded me of him. His bedroom, still full of his toys, clothes, bed and other belongings, was often a place in which I would simply sit and despair.

More than once I considered making it my own ending space, but there is something inside that would always rage, “No, that path is for the cowardly and the weak. I am better than that; I will hold on“. And so I did–1,000 miles away. That scenario bore in me a kind of fear specific to family, and at that stage it seemed to me that those who had worked hardest to hurt me the most were unequivocally my family, especially my father. It was in large part that fear that has for years lead me to keep the remainder of my family at arm’s length, though I must say that most of the rest of them certainly did not deserve that.

I’m not exactly sure where this piece fits into that history, but I think that this was written somewhere around the time my world began to crumble, and I felt myself at a tipping point where nothing seemed clear and no future seemed certain.

Precipice

Standing Alone

Upon the Edge of Eternity

Seeing Below

All the Dreams inside of me

Like ants so far away

All I love’s scurrying free

In the emptiness of space

An infinity you cannot see

I want to fall into this dream

To swim within this sea

To hold my loves inside my grasp

And live my life freely

I’m standing on a precipice

Above the world below

Desperately wanting to embrace you

But how to get there I don’t know

Which way will I fall?

I can’t see the light

The precipice is crumbling now

And I sure could use my sight.

12-13-1998

I’d be lying if I said I could remember exactly what this was about. 1998 was a busy and difficult year that had a fair amount of things “looking up” for me. I had my son living with me, the custody case appeared to be going well (little did I know how that would change), I’d become close to someone…so I’m at a bit of a loss to explain this poem. It could be that I was having regrets about the train wreck that was the relationship with my son’s mother, but I sort of doubt it because the truth is that I never really cared for her to begin with (I know, it’s pretty sad). I’d had a fair handful of brief “relationships” with women who were enamored by the thought of a single dad, but to be honest I can’t remember a single one of their names, so I’m again drawing a blank.

Oh well. It seems sincere, at any rate, so there must have been some level of genuine pain going on at the time. I just wish I knew what it was! At least…I think I wish I knew…

Broken Heart

There’s a broken heart within these walls

A melancholy soul

A spirit walks these empty halls

Alone and unwhole

Teardrops paint the skin beneath my eyes

A sullen memory within

The past which covers up the present’s lies

A tender lover lost to my sin

A heart, which beats now in chains

Passion’s flames are flickering dim

Memories of love once lost in vain

And chances for Salvation, slim

The wind which whispers gently through the trees

O’er the river winding gently by

Finds me mournful, on my knees

My broken heart has come to die

Face the past, own the pain

No absolution comes within

The blood of true love on my hands’ a stain

And I accede to darkness creeping in.

9-6-1998

This is for my Grampa, John Vernon Ward. He passed away unexpectedly on May 13th, 2009. I’ll always regret the time I missed with him, but I’ll be eternally grateful for the example he was to me of what a man can and should be. He touched more lives than I can even imagine possible, and he’s always been my best example and inspiration among my family. I love you, Grampa. You’re my hero, and you always were.

What A Man Should Believe

What a man should believe
You taught me by your way
How you lived and carried on
Through each and every day

You taught me to believe
That people are usually good
And reaching out in friendship
Is the way I always should

You showed in all your action
That virtue and honor define a man
And you carried them as your character
In ways you taught me to understand

You showed me how your courage
Was at the forefront of your creed
And I’m inspired by the way you faced
Every adversity and need

But amongst these many virtues
One stands so far above
And I will never, ever forget
The warmth and power of your love

I’ll always love you, Grampa
The best parts of me came from you
You taught me everything worth believing
And every word, I know, is true.