Anthony Ward

Anthony Ward debuts this week for your reading pleasure.

By Anthony Ward

His life was in ruins!
Where he’d remain in the past
Worm down by the modernity
As the landscape grew around him
The dereliction of his competence
Providing consent for his demolition

Deemed dangerous
With his whole structure eroded
Making him virtually unstable
He had to be brought down
While all he needed was reinforcing.

By Anthony Ward

I wrestle with my conscience
As it tries to pin me down
Tired and exhausted
While it climbs on top of me

Prevents me from getting up
So I have no choice
But to relent to its mercy
Held against my will
By its reclusive weight.

Hot Air
By Anthony Ward

He held such high expectations of himself
His inflated ego headed towards the sky
Where he hoped he’d float above it all
Enlightening his mind

The increase in temperature
Building with pressure
Until he felt ready to explode
Nearly ending up in pieces
Before letting himself down

By Anthony Ward

Life runs
like a railway
passing series of stations
stopping us in our tracks
ending their journey where others begin
beneath the discernible clock
bearing a face resembling all others
remaining distinctive to the particular place
a face you remember accordingly
pointing out where you are at the time
revolving on an axis in continuous orbit
all the while moving constantly forward
drawing the inevitable closer.

By Anthony Ward

Our lives are the sediment of our mortality
Composed of many layers.
We are but pebbles washed upon the shore,
Worn down and eroded by the grinding of the ocean,
Whose tides shape the shores of our humanity
As we try to control the uncontrollable.

So diffused in its vastness and deep in its immensity
It cannot be tamed.
Only nurtured with sand as remnants of time
Densely compacted to form foundations
That can be rendered into the aesthetic,
Difficult to maintain and cultivate
In accordance to the diverse vibrancy of the surface
Where we nurture our lives.
The past solidified beneath stratified sentiment,
Sculptured from its source into something definitive.
While the present remains liquefied,
Taking on the form in which it’s contained.
Carrying you along with its current,
That sways you this way and that,
Un-relentless in its erosion.

While the future’s nothing but air,
It cannot be seen nor grasped.
You look towards the sky,
Aspiring towards the heights,
Feeling the breeze push against you,
The present forming clouds that fogs your vision,
That loiters on the verge of precipitation,
Fate existing throughout coincidences,
That conceal the insignificance of things
While congealing our lives into something substantial.

Anthony Ward has been writing in his spare time for a number of years. He has been published in a number of literary magazines including South, Word Gumbo, Perspectives, Crack the Spine, Shadow Fiction, Torrid Literature Journal, Snakeskin, and Blinking Cursor amongst others.


About vision791

Pushcart nominee Jeanette Cheezum has been published on several online writing sites and in fifteen Anthology books and four poetry books. Three of these books have made the New York Times Best Sellers list. Awarded The Helium Networks Premium Writer’s Badge, Bronze Creative Writing Award and a Marketplace Writers award. Recently she has published thirteen ebooks at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. You may find a list of some of her work at
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One Response to Anthony Ward

  1. vision791 says:

    Thanks for sharing your work with us.

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