blades of summer grass
dancing to the tune of life
may I have this dance
Song Sheets of Summer – Haiku
Second Thoughts # 7 – Fishy Past
Ah…the old bent fishing rod. I was out for a walk a few evenings ago and midway into my stroll, I was passed by a couple of kids on their pedal bikes. I gave way to the little band of brothers and noticed something reminiscent as they zoomed on by. There were four of them. Like a moving screen grab of modern-day Stand by Me, Goonies, or IT. Or, for the younger crowd reading this post, Stranger Things. I kind of wanted to salute them in passing as they gave me a nod and went on their way. They looked like a good group of friends for sure. What struck me the most was how they had their fishing poles secured to their bikes. The fishing rods they were carrying were pointed straight up toward the sky like you would assume. Only, their rods had a massive bend at the top of them because when you pulled the line tight to fix the hook in one of the line holes, it created a slight curve. Smart move as they would have run the risk of hooking into someone or something while flying by on their journey home after a long day of adventures. Anyway, the moment those kids rode by me happened in an instant, but the flashes of memories that they had created for me lasted the rest of the night and into the process of writing this entry. I allowed that slideshow to play itself out, over and over. Like a short trailer of young episodes of my youth.
Continue reading “Second Thoughts # 7 – Fishy Past”Little Anthony
on this July summer night
I see you there in the sky
where you are not supposed to be
what happened for you to go there
why are you needed so soon
all I can do is wonder
as my heart tries to understand
why is it that time gets to pick
how fate always chooses next
when life shows that dark side
stay with me tonight
I’m not ready to leave you be
shine your light until tomorrow
a day I wish was given to you
little Anthony
Am I Write? # 33 – Don’t Stop Here, Go Around the Block
How can you write when you don’t push down on the pen? Trust me, it’s procrastination, not writer’s block. Go grab your tools and stop making excuses. Quit disguising your creative block with procrastination. – Ash
Second Thoughts # 6 – I Remember Swimmingly
A white towel around my neck, my curling hair is all wet, and I’m riding my mountain bike down a quiet highway in a standing position. Ah …the way back after a summer’s day swim.
It’s well past seven, almost eight and the sun, like us, is on the way home. I’m chilly now as the sun sets. I have goosebumps and my skin is drying out from living in pond water for the last four hours. My pedal strides are lazy as I slowly catch up to join a zigzag bicycle pattern my friends have already graciously started. We laugh right away bringing up our whole day and explaining to each other like it happened years ago. Drawing out every last second of detail and sodering it unconsciously to our souls. Every one of those day-at-the-pond moments we smiled at again and again. Over and over.
The adrenaline produced from a day like that would fuel the whole trip home for us. No matter how tired we were our along-the-way stunt dares and ten-second races kept us gaining ground without even noticing how close we were getting to home. Then, most times in the middle of a good joke or a story, one by one, each of my buddies would have to start branching off. Going their “rest of the way” alone. Breaking away from the pack usually with a middle-finger gesture, a newly learned curse word, or a bodily function. Sometimes all three. Soon, I too would cross that imaginary line that separated my neighbourhood from the rest of the world. The world of a twelve-year-old Ash. I remember that day swimmingly.
This second thought was brought to you by a walk earlier today on a path less taken. There was something about the atmosphere in the moment I was in and it overwhelmed me and I was there for it. I kicked up a little dirt and it transported me. Summer is indeed in the air and given the last few weeks, I needed this memory. Thanks, universe.
Until…
Am I Write # 33 – Life Poetic
Everything is poetry. – Ash
A Shade of Ash # 37 – Right Out Of The Blue
It’s a shame that the colour blue can sometimes share itself with a feeling. Because of that, when I feel blue on the inside, I do my best to seek a better shade on the outside. – Ash
My May-Day
this is a dream
I can’t be awake in this world
because you are not in it
I’ve searched everywhere but you’re gone
today though, the dream changes
I get to release a jar of hope
to make your voice the loudest
make your face come back to me oh so vividly
like the first day we met
that happy May
lately, this dream gets so close to a nightmare
because it has started to fade everything
and my jar of hope is almost empty
not enough to awaken me
to see you in reality smothers me
I gasp toward that life
choking to reach the other side
someone, please shake me
tell me it’s over
give me back my biggest loss
hear my may-day
Story Jots #10 – Dying Truth
Hope was something she had let go of a long time ago. They all did. The only thing left was her and the few remaining days she felt she had to live. Her food was gone, and without a fire to boil the blankets of snow, consuming it to survive would only prolong the inevitable. Dead of winter had no mercy where she laid in wait, awaiting help she knew was not coming. Before long she too would be left frozen in time like everyone around her when their will to stay alive vanished. Those rotting bodies beside her were the only morbid company she kept. Her body ached and her mind continued to play tricks as she would awaken from unconscious drifts only to find herself still clinging to a cold pointless existence. She was scared but was getting used to the fact that she would die soon like those before her. Being the last soul alive it was now about preparing for it. Allowing the elements to take over and finally start to accept that this unforgiving place would be her prison forever. That was the dying truth.
Story Jots # 9 – A True King
The king of Canyon City was a cruel and unjust man. Corrupt and evil to the core. His people were growing weak, tired, and hungry by the day. Every ounce of what they had to give was being bled to feed his greed and selfishness. This undeserving king has been drunk with power for longer than most want to remember, and the everlasting drawn-out pain of his royal reign has aged everyone unfairly. No one cared anymore. They did as they were told because there was no option, but to concede to a vicious ruler. Who stole everything. Nothing much was left and before long, his people would wither and blow away like the dust across the barren land they called home. This was destined to become the last chapter of their existence until a rumour was heard. Whispers of a forgotten king. An uncrowned king with the blood of inheritance, the blood of the people. But will he fight for his people? Will he fight for his rightful throne? Will he fight to become… a true king?
Earth To Ash 