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The Web Poetry Corner

Darryl Ward

of

Wellington, NZ

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taliesin@paradise.net.nz (Darryl Ward)


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Welcome to the Asylum

by

Darryl Ward

Welcome to the asylum
enter into life
Horribly deformed
we face the world
In the queue of reason
floating in the stream
of time
through unknown years
without mad purpose
dawning yet another age

Welcome to the asylum
enter into life
Fulfil the search
the quest for truth
uncover the secret
wisdom of the ancients
Safe in the knowledge
of destiny
step forth


Lament for the Night

by

Darryl Ward

Upon an hour
above the Sun
the Moon rules night and day
a ritual cauldron
spell of Bacchus
drains the room of pounding pace

Enjoy it while you live
but life rejects life that you give
my cards are slates of clay and sand
all you deal's a dead man's hand

that breaks the song
and cuts the night
alone I tread a shroud
the mime of music
grains of sorrow
echo still a lonely curse


Making Tracks

by

Darryl Ward

She said there was no way
to immediate success
while we were riding on
the trans Siberian express

The porter brought more wine
vodka laced with snow
from premium distilleries
in opulent Moscow

I shook my head and stared
I really couldn't think
I stared across the aisle
at those afraid to blink

He was off to see his daughter
to meet me he was glad
his name was Vladymir
he came from Leningrad

She said I was a fool
to wander all the time
away from the real world
to a castle built of rhyme

I shook my head and stared
I had no place to go
but a never ending track
through never ending snow

She said there was no way
to immediate success
while we were riding on
the trans Siberian express

Maybe she is right
I guess it will unfold
from pictures drawn with words
moulded from the cold


For the Lost Boy

by

Darryl Ward

Small boy
raised in the shadow of prejudice
who will teach you your secrets

how to be a man
despite the malignment of masculinity

the synthesis of kindness
and strength that marks manhood

the fine art of threading flies
to tickle tinted trout

the joy of punting a bloated bladder
across a puddled paddock

to commune with your kin
and be enlightened by their experience

and to incorporate that particular pain
peculiar to men

Bereaved of your birthright
never forget he who is half of you

rise over the subtle subjugation
of your slandered sex
and stand tall


For my Father

by

Darryl Ward

You were born from saints
astride the narrow gut of hills
we've both called home

true native of this wild land
whose shores you defended

In this awesome task
you met my mother
the golden goddess

and migrated to the magic mountain
where you stayed, reserved

wise in the knowledge
that speaking is a last resort
your quietness conveys all

Another year older we know
the sad truths that escaped our youths
but as the clock ticks forward

and the morepork hesitates
to cry its chant after dawn

we are with you
from this life into the next


Reflections

by

Darryl Ward

With Kapiti baring
dark wounds
to the thickening
Sunset
the spirits
of stirring warriors
blow their chill breath
and the sea a quilt
of granite feathers
slops stubbornly
at the silver threshold

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Reflections

by

Darryl Ward

With Kapiti baring
dark wounds
to the thickening
Sunset
the spirits
of stirring warriors
blow their chill breath
and the sea a quilt
of granite feathers
slops stubbornly
at the silver threshold

Reflections

by

Darryl Ward

With Kapiti baring
dark wounds
to the thickening
Sunset
the spirits
of stirring warriors
blow their chill breath
and the sea a quilt
of granite feathers
slops stubbornly
at the silver threshold

It is Cold at the Height of Summer

by

Darryl Ward

It is cold at the height of Summer
angels cry from clouds in sympathy

tears from heaven assault the thirsty land
the ground is moist but cold

its dampness torments my feet
as I dare to absorb the atmosphere

stormy silence shatters my sense of sanctity
mildew darkens the emptiness inside

and colour fades to monochrome
while all semblance of sanity is lost

the Sun has passed its use-by date
as I stand in wonder at the sudden eclipse

totally alone on a windy road
It is cold at the height of Summer