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

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

 
 

Sometimes we have to change our perspective to get the light back into our lives. It is OK to sit in the clouds, but never stop chasing the sun. – Ash

If you can’t make a habit of writing, make a habit of observing, then write about it. – Ash

Losing someone in your life that is still out there is like falling continuously and never hitting the ground. But, all you can feel is the impact. – Ash

‘Every morn…I look up for a brighter sun,
to cast away clouds that still pursue me.

Told that time will move them forward,
patience should be a friend.

Though, all I feel as I gaze toward each daily set,
is that I am still losing both.

Wintery winds howl,
calling a bluff.
The sky’s story turns dark,
when only halfway.
Each of my breaths,
more and more breath.
They followed in dance,
but leave me too.
To chase drifts that whistle,
and those raw gales…
God, to the bone.
The forest taunts,
I hear the scratching.
Slowing motion, I’m straight into fear,
hopeless and alone.
I beg the moon a bond.

.

Take me to a Spring
where every day was as young as I
and the sun would come winking through the curtains