SHORT

So we just keep building...
until the family fort is finished,
until we finally feel complete, 
until icy streets no longer phase us,
and one day later we die.

By Janell Renee' Ward 

Iron Hamper

They stare past each other,
A grave gaze,
Into the evening lights,
Where they can only make out the edges
Of large buildings.
The young lady thinks about her dying brother.
The old man recalls his planned wedding day
That never happened.
Tonight the train is mother;
She sways them back and forth,
Cradling and coddling their sorrow.
Can’t you hear the laden scraping on the railway?
Tonight mother carries more weight than
What the engineers said she was allowed. 

by Janell R. Ward 

©Janell R Ward, Reward Publishing 2014

Foul Maiden     

My largest fear is that people will look at me and say

She is a snobby girl, prideful lady, a waste of time;

Of course

I am lying…

My largest fear is that people will look at me and say

Overachiever, workaholic, angry single chick;  

Of course

I am still not being honest…

My largest fear is that people will look at me and say

She is sloppy, hulking, gross;

Of course

            I am telling you the truth. 

By Janell Renée Ward

©Reward Publishing 2014

Poem to the Islamic State

Dear ISIS, 

You can break the Christian's backs,
you can shred their bones, 
and remove the children’s heads. 

But you cannot kill their God, 
destroy their crown, 
or demolish truth.

You can tie their arms, 
crucify the fathers, 
rape the mothers and daughters,

But you cannot steal their love, 
capture their hearts, 
or imprison their allegiance. 

You can hang them with ropes,

Take away their food,

And make them die at your feet.

But you cannot throttle their worth,

Starve their souls,

Or force them to bow to your power.

You can separate their families,

Paint the letter “N” upon their doors,

And burn them alive, 

But cannot make them unloved by the Father,

Or make their ashes invaluable.  

You cannot eradicate their God-given heritage.

You stand the afflicted ones. 

You have beautiful blood dripping from your conscience.

But they have liberty; 

You just made them win the race.

©Janell R Ward, Reward Publishing 2014 

Inevitable Flip-side

Seasons of a Mother  by Janell R. Ward   

1.

Evening lights pop on in the city.

Gray comfort settles in.

Night lights flicker in the tired pupils.

A mother sings, kisses her prince's soft forehead, 

Tucks him into blue sheets,

as weighty eyelashes fall on his little clean face.

Tonight mother snuggles on the pillow case.

Tomorrow she will take him to the park

And play among the flowers of the field.

2.

Evening lights pop on in the chapel.

Gray faces accompany the cortege.

Candles flicker in the weary tears.

A mother cries, kisses her prince's cold forehead,

Tucks him into the blue coffin.

Heavy lashes rest on his stiff skin. 

Tonight mother collapses upon the casket rack.

Tomorrow she will take him to the graveyard

And lay down beside him flowers of the field.

©Janell R. Ward Reward Publishing 2014

Inheritance  by Janell R. Ward

A Brand Built on Faithfulness 

You can determine daily
          who your parents,
          your brothers,
          your sisters are.

They are the ones who
manifest a defensive hedge through every lovely deed,
show up at your workplace with Persian tulips.

They ditch
         their roles,
         their goals,
         their shopping lists

to bring you soup on a frail Saturday morning.

This is family—

An invisible bloodline of reliability,
a cluster of red and white blood cells
made from mercy and conviction.

They are a sterling salvation—

Arriving on time,
remembering that you hate cinnamon,
driving hours to watch your children when obligation calls.

They will engage with you forever,
purchase your misfortunes,
and bear them with you,
catching your sloppy sobs on their
               white,
Antony Morato dress shirt.

They will perpetually advertise a welcome home sign:
You are always wanted here.

They pump peace through your body,
Releasing the relief of knowing

you        can         count          on                      

                 someone.

They are the attentive ones,
The ones that make you want to live again tomorrow.





Part II. The Confrontation


You were supposed to be the one to love me fully,
Passionately,
Without reason or cause,
Adoring me just for the sake of
Being blood.
You were supposed to be the one who would want to
Do anything
To make sure that we could remain close.
You should have been the one who
Showed up on time,
Cried with me in life and death,
The one who
took care of my children when I couldn't.
But you wouldn't do it.

And now I'm left to decide
that you cannot come any closer.