I am just dropping in for a second. I have decided to tweak an already existing page on my blog. It’s for my poems. I’ve noticed from time to time that WordPress does some wonky stuff. While I was looking over mine the other day, I noticed some bugs like my pages cut off after a few “older posts” clicks. That affected my links and how much people could read. Damn you, WordPress! So, I went and created a page that links all of my poetry to one webpage and you can scroll all the way through them. One by one. There’s nothing worse than finding out people can’t see your stuff because of site issues.
Hey everybody, I’m going to get straight to it. This category is something I have been playing around with for a while now. The premise is I will take a photo I’ve found somewhere and draw whatever inspiration I can from it and write a short, maybe long story from it. Plus, I would like to offer the same opportunity to anyone who wants to follow my lead and use both the photo and/or story title as a prompt. I would love to see examples of other forms of inspiration. It doesn’t have to be a story either. It could be anything from a story, a poem, a song, anything your heart desires.
OK, here’s the beginning of this one for me. I have a few chapters done of this prompt, only I was too excited and reacted. I went with the moment and posted. #amwriting
Don’t forget to tell me what you think in the comments, and let’s see where this goes.
Enjoy!!!
SHE HAS NO PAST, YOU HAVE NO FUTURE # 1
By: Ash Douglas
Marcus, get up! Come on. It’s not funny. We have to go. Do you realize I needed to be home fifteen minutes ago? Not cool. You know, I’m going to be in deep shit again. My Uncle is going to kill me for sure this time. Marcus?
took a walk-in summer grass picked a blade, made a sound the air was country wild strawberries sweet like lazy cats we lay for hours In the filthy hot, in the no time afternoons sometimes on the highway to anywhere I had never been, now I was away from home, but home In a holiday dusk I remember watching mosquitos dance we hid in quiet as the sun went to sleep while children ran through the tall trees like tiny beasts searching for their capture there was so much laughter inside my heart a new smile I learned to grow pure place full of running and joy town between the seconds I’ll be back again someday
I went for a walk the other day along the beach. As I did, I happened to look down and notice my footprints in the sand. I realized something. Every day, I worry so much about the steps I need to take and less about the ones I’ve taken. Life is always about moving forward though we forget about how far we have come already. Each step a footprint in our own lives. Just a reminder to look at your life as a journey, not a race. – Ash
my lines are barren of words no one pays attention anymore I walk away to try and heal change those emotional bandages stop the bloody hurt when my lyrics are finally gone so will I like a blank page…empty death poetic is where these sonnets will live on for stanzas from the grave bare the richest fruit it’s then you see how poison being alive feels to a poet when from lips when it can’t be turning to the cover to remember from a photo remember how abandoned I was with an audience how forgotten I would become unless I use creation to keep me alive I’ll always be alone with my words even if they are never again repeated don’t repeat them for me
As a writer, I sometimes lose my direction. Everything becomes inside. When I start to feel that way, I go outside. I run straight into the arms of Mother Nature and she sets the scene for me. – Ash
Screw the cab, it’s nice out, and I’m walking. Ah, the Christmas Eve Night walk home. This memory is further to the first snowfall entry I posted a few days ago in terms of the atmosphere it creates. A single awesome holiday mini-tradition that we tend to forget about. You don’t realize how Christmassy it is until you’re there in the moment. If you ask me, there’s no better backdrop to a beautiful Christmas than ending it with a brisk cool clean air walk home. Alone, or with a special loved one. Either way, it creates a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. You’re Christmas so far has been nothing but food, drinks, music, friends, and your loving family. Annnnd, the best part. Well, the best part was Santa still had to swing by the old house to drop off the gifts. Score. Oh, and turkey tomorrow…oh my God, Mmmmm, nan’s turkey!!!
Yes, I remember those nights when I close my eyes. How the stars always had the right amount of glow to them. Enough to guide you home. I loved how the streets had just fallen snow that sparkled in the light and covered the whole road. The only imperfection was a single set of tire tracks that belonged to that one taxi that was still making passenger runs. I can still see those super big snowflakes as they fall sideways against the shine of the streetlight as I pass the last stretch toward home. By that time all I could think of was how comfy my bed was going to be.
Those chilled-to-the-bone but warm-to-the-heart walks home are still very vivid in my memory. No matter if it’s twenty years ago or just last year, I love a good stroll on Christmas Eve Night. Because in the end, there’s snow place like home and I’m going to jingle all the way.
I haven’t been near a school in a gazillion years, and I have no idea but would hazard a guess that teachers no longer have to wheel things into the classroom to spring an afternoon movie on their students. I’m pretty sure classroom technology has far surpassed what I remember. But, when I do remember, I think about what that feeling was like when I returned to my seat after lunch and my homeroom teacher wheeled that bad boy into the room you see pictured above. There was always that classic wiggly-wobbly one-bad wheel that squeaked as it was rolled into place in front of the classroom. Here I was thinking the afternoon was going to be nothing but a long-winded boring clock-watching lecture, and now I’m in charge of pulling the thousand-pound navy blue curtains close. This afternoon was going to be awesome.
Ah, the afternoon school Christmas movie. There’s no better send-off to a holiday break if you ask me. It was certainly the case when I was a kid in awe that very day many Christmases ago. Now, with the curtains drawn and my important job complete, there were only another five minutes of our teacher shushing before the movie started. Threatening the movie would go off if the room did not fall silent until a pin-drop could be heard. Then, followed by a little elementary fart. A quick “I’m warning you!” Then, we were finally ready. All eyes trained on that teeny tiny audio-video TV, that had just enough light to spot everyone’s smile.
Earth To Ash 