Deleted Spam by Ash’s comment section

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that you wish be delivering the following
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the same nearly very often inside case you shield this increase

HAHAHA!!! – this was the literal spam comment in my folder today. I clear them out from time to time. Most makes zero sense and the rest are cialis links. This one though, this one hit me differently. It stopped me in my tracks and I gave it a minute or two. Felt there was something here. They say you can see art anywhere if you really look at it and I kind of feel there’s poetry in that spam computer generated gibberish. What about you? LOL

Until…

Am I Write? # 18 – Unfortunately, Writing Does Come With Strings Attached

Writer’s block is like being a marionette with clipped strings. The only way you are going to get moving again is to start putting together some lines. – Ash

Am I Write? # 17 – Truth, From the Bottom of My Art

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Writing is the life support that keeps my heart beating. – Ash

That’s A Dandy Line

When a flower is plucked from the garden, it quickly forgets where it once was planted. – Ash/Dad

Am I Write? # 16 – Started Has A Pilot Project

Writing gives my soul a stage to perform. – Ash

Am I Write? # 15 – I’m That Type Writer

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

The only thing I hate about writing is having to return to the real world. – Ash

A Shade of Ash # 14 – I Have To Watch My Own Back Too

I made peace with something not long ago. It hurt, it also healed. The result was me realizing that I am not letting go forever, but rather, me accepting I cannot hang for now. Life needs to be continued… – Ash/Dad

Bike Writer # 57 – I Ashore You, It’s Good Advice!

Having a good day starts with wanting to in the first place. So, when the focus is happiness, just try your best to finish what you’ve started. – Ash

A Harbour Night

Boats sway nestled to port
quietly breaking the ocean toward the shore
its laps catch my ear
then, I see
I watch as the moorings drip
counting seconds for no reason
high over in the charcoaling sky
chimney smoke rises, strangling the hills
there…
blips of buoy lights reach north and south
tomorrow to be a beautiful day
this, a story, a grandfather tale
to comfort me
as I am ushered home by the dear harbour
before it can sleep it sings
lending me its sounds for sweet dreams to come
allows me the harmony of its salty crests
until I turn my door in goodnight
I listen for the songs of the harbour