Biography of Danielle Ward
Born in Liverpool, I lead a busy but inspirationally-boring life, so when it comes to ideas I usually write my poems about books I've read and films I've seen, where the thoughts, emotions and feelings are far more easy to understand than in real life, and the characters far more interesting. Sometimes I delve into the depths of my own life for inspiration, but only on rare occasions, particularly as I have very little interesting to write about me, and besides, most of my life is spent in the fictional world of literature, music and art!
Danielle Ward Poems
These wheels are fast. Beneath my feet the pavement slides away, A table cloht jerked from under glass. Wobbling, on unbalanced legs.
I am a breathe, I am a life. I am toil, And I am strife.
Wherever you are, Do you wonder? I do. In a twilight bedroom, when the soft summer wind
Standing above The crowds below. I am smiling. I am feeling.
In a breath of wind I stand, Frog-slimy ground, and shard rocks beneath. It is not easy to look, much less to walk Onwards, downwards.
These are the things of my childhood, These shining trinkets and baubles, Tinsel sparkling through girl-woman eyes. The child that has held these is still here,
The Rainbow That Cries.
The river is clean, rippled, liquid glass, I see a reflection that is not my own. A mirror, a ghost of you. Me. The world has not changed -
In the darkness I hold. I breathe. And I wait. In. And out. A hum. A sound. Lips and mouth and tongue.
Holding Hands Is A Complicated Business.
Heartbeat. It takes a second of inclination, A smile, A reassurance louder than words.
When We Were Friends.
When we were friends, You and me, We swapped secrets like letters Give and take,
My Words Are Words.
Give my words just half a chance, An open eye (or two) . Now just you slim across my soul, Another point of view.
Written In The Stars.
She is a small part of this world, A collection of skin and bone and muscle. She is a pair of fierce brown eyes and a soft, silky mop Of blonde hair,
As I Lay My Head To Rest.
As I lay my head to rest, I pray my dreaming will be blessed: With glittering starlight upon the moon, Floating like a lost balloon.
Eternally. Always. Forever.
The sun hovers On the brink of another day, Glints on the hands of the clock. Tick tock.
The Rainbow That Cries.
The river is clean, rippled, liquid glass,
I see a reflection that is not my own.
A mirror, a ghost of you. Me.
The world has not changed -
The trees still reach with yearning arms towards the empty sky.
The wind still moans, tired, losing it's way.
There is still a day. Still a night.
Still time that tumbles, carries me away, too fast,
A pulse too fast to live.