Category: blog

Broken Wall of Color

(This old poem I wrote while staring across from my office window in 2006 at a graffiti-filled wall)

By: Ash Douglas

Broken wall of colour,
how the years have left you behind.

I see your every crack,
I see your every line.

Someone has painted you a picture,
Oh, how very humble.

Now you sit and watch the world,
As the banks beneath you crumble.

No one seems to notice how long it has been,
How long you have sloped how long you have leaned.

But as I gaze out my window each and every day,
I know it won’t be long before you fall away.

For years you did your job and time is not your friend,
Broken wall of colour, when did you begin?

Mom  

(Something I found that I wrote for my mother a long time ago)

Happy Birthday to my mom, to my lovely mother;
your beauty compares, to no other.
 
Your eyes always glow and twinkle when you smile;
I think back at old times and thought for awhile.
 
I’m blessed to have a mom with such a big heart and warm soul;
Every day of my life my love for you grows.
 
I miss you all the time, I wish I was near;
To give you a birthday kiss; to hold you my dear.
 
Another year as gone by, another year has passed;
Some days we have cried some days we have laughed.
 
You’re a special person mother, so giving of yourself;
Happiness is all you seek, more than treasures and wealth.
 
You cared for us all, and always there you would be;
Whether it was the role of a daughter, or a mom to three.

I wrote this today after thinking of you;
I thought to myself what can I do?
 
So read these lines and listen to what I say;
I want you to celebrate your very special day.
 
And remember birthdays are but a number, just one more trip around the sun;
It’s your time now mother so go have some fun.
 
Love Ash

That old rocking chair

A whistle from another room, a few words of a song,
I would hear your voice and come running along.

I jump into your lap, frighten you with cheer,
You would simply caress my back and say “oh dear”.

“Where are you going?” you would always ask,
“Don’t know my father I just have time to pass.”

“Be careful and steer clear of trouble he would often warn,
Watching over me from the very day that I was born.

Sleeping as he rocked so many times he did,
I would play fun and steal the hat for his balding head.

Not a word of scorn was ever cast my way,
Not at the beginning, not even your last day.

That rocking chair sits still, how I miss your song,
I feel all alone where do I belong?

I know you wish the best for me to live a happy life and do what I can,
Raise a family of my own and be a good man.

You are my true father as I am your son,
I will continue your wishes your every one.

I will be the man you hoped I’d become,
to honor your name I have already begun.

I am beginning to see that your spirit lives on,
So I will dry my tears and then move on.

I’m not sad anymore I feel your right here,
Singing that song, in that old rocking chair.

Dream of better days

Your eyes now cast an empty blank stare,
But I know deep inside that you are still there.

I miss the talks, that we would always share,
When I came calling, you were always there.

I miss coming home to a well-cooked meal,
To a warm embrace, true love I did feel.

Gently caressing my head followed up with a kiss,
Those days are now gone, those days I miss.

How can this be, a woman of strong faith,
Barely knowing where to, hardly knowing a face.

No one truly knows the darkness you live,
Strangers amongst you, not much ever said.

You took me in when times were rough,
You made me a man, you made me tough.

You would always say that I was your boy,
No one now listens and I have to ask why.

What we had was special, something not like most,
But we new all that mattered was that we were close.

I yearn to hear you call my name, if just for one last time,
If this my only wish to be granted, then that for me is fine.

It’s hard mother, with you not here,
I want to kiss you, hold you, I want to be near.

I will move on for it would be your wish, you would want me too,
Memories of our time together will help guide me through.

You’re a saint my dear Theresa, in so many ways,
Sleep my dear mother and dream of better days.