Where would we be without writing? Whether it’s read or written… writing’s for everybody. – Ash
Am I Write # 12 – You Got That Write
Tag: life
My Works of Heart
There are times my heart speaks for me, this is the place I keep its voice.– Ash
Hey everybody,
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.
Young Summer
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
Journal Entry # 221 – Discovery Takes A Lifetime
The further I get to go outside, the further I get to go inside. – Ash
Journal Entry # 220 – Here’s A Foot Note
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
Lonely Poet
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
Am I Write # 11 – There’s Something Beautiful In Our Mist!
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
Journal Entry # 219 – Being Present Is A Gift To Yourself
The more present you are in a moment, the more beautiful the gift of living that moment becomes. – Ash
Post Of Christmas Past # 4 – The Christmas Eve Night Walk Home
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.
Until…
Post Of Christmas Past # 3 – The Afternoon School Christmas Movie
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.
And…scene!!!
Earth To Ash 