Poetry from Patrick Ward

The Lonely Apparition

Once upon a time. 

There lived a man who wanted to find someone to love. 

He kept waiting, and anticipating . 

It never happened. 

 The man eventually died of a broken heart. 

A year later, a strange occurrence took place:

A young man and woman approached the scene where the man had died. 

All of a sudden, it got deathly quiet. 

Then a male figure formed in a pale, white, ghostly mist. 

The ghost appeared to be someone that the woman had rejected from somewhere back in time. 

So, with a sorrowful moan, and the face of rejection, he stared at the woman. 


he vanished. 

The Grip of Pride

It sneaks upon you unaware.

You cannot run from it.

It’s just there.

It takes over the mind,

as though some type,

of force comes from behind.

Eating away at the mind.

It causes the vision of need,

to become blind.

There’s no way to hide,

from the existence of pride.

Happiness in a Vapor

Gone in a gentle breeze, a vapor disappears. 

A befriending from time’s past, leaves a trace of pleasant memory. 

What was once a close-knit friendship, drifts far away,

as though it had gotten lost in the sea somewhere. 


Distant, yet there’s no ill will that comes between the friendship. 

Fate seems to raise its ugly head, whether it’s tragedy, or opportunity. 

Causing the friendship to be unwillingly absent from one another. 

A sobering thought to say the least. 


Yet, I don’t see this as anything to grieve over. 

I still have the pleasantness of the friendship in thought. 

And the lingering, peaceful, afterthought.

Therefore, I have happiness in a vapor.

The Telling Strings

There sits a puppet, silent as it seldom seems. 

Starring off into space,  until someone pulls its strings. 

The puppet comes alive, performing strange and funny things. 

The young lads are amazed, to see it jump through the hula rings. 


Down through the ceiling, he swoops in the air. 

Doing extraordinary tricks, while the intrigued, audience stood there. 

Over and under the hurdle, the puppet swings as shockingly the people stare. 

Another puppet joins the scene, making the telling strings a gruesome pair.

Unwanted Solitude

It’s Friday evening, and I’m tuning

through my stereo receiver.

I’m trying to occupy my mind

trying to ignore the visitor of loneliness.

Solitude is supposed to be a state

of peace, and serenity. There’s times

when solitude shows up uninvited.

When action is desired, the peacefulness

of solitude is misplaced.  I’m wearing

the mask of contentment. The disguise

is silently played. A smile is worn

as a shield, covering up

unwanted solitude. The displeasure

goes unnoticed.

2 thoughts on “Poetry from Patrick Ward

  1. I really enjoyed all of your poems. Solitude touched that place within me when Saturday comes and there’s nothing to do but accept the moment that has come. I also enjoyed your poem about the ghost of love. You have a new twist on these subjects.

    • Thanks Michael! I’m honored that you like my work. I enjoy reading your poems too!

Comments are closed.