My writing has grown with help from the seasoned. Their words and stories are like seeds left to bloom in the garden of my own imagination. – Ash
Am I Write? # 43 – Read What You Sow
Tag: poems
Am I Write? # 42 – Came to me Cloud and Clear
There’s a saying in Newfoundland and Labrador and many fishing ports throughout the world that applies to this horizon.
“Red sky at morning, fisherman’s warning. Red sky at night, fisherman’s delight”.
As I stood there this morning in an awed gaze thinking about that, I felt another meaning come to me. The storyteller’s version.
“Red sky at morning, writers adorning. Red sky at night, writers give sight”.
A passerby thought I just wanted to share.
Until…
Am I Write? # 41 – There Are Many Keys to Unlocking Block
The next word can never be freed without the key that unlocked the first. – Ash
Am I Write? # 40 – Writing Is The Only Resolution
New year, new chapters – Ash
Falling In Place
It is cold where I linger
my body numbs to something sharp
all I can do is watch like I am in the clouds
only I walk amongst those but they don’t see me
heart beating so fast it deafens any cry I make
the world goes around with me no longer attached
because I float between realms of real and dreams
waking up in neither
any rest I get is a gift
like cheddar to keep me in hiding
away, under… behind
on this journey along an unmarked trail
in a story between the lines
Setting – Haiku
as darkness bleeds in
this shade and its salty taste
prove I am alive
Dirty Dare
that night there was a fire in all their eyes
each time a heartbeat, another felt its rhythmic passion
a guise was given to open the euphoric
allow dreams to transpire
give way to deep fantasies
unlock rooms full of lust
a house of secrets welcomes a guest
sweat makes him shine like a trophy
his skin is a craving
aphrodisiac to taste
casting eyes no matter where the gaze
he cannot see for propositions
adventures without warnings
free tickets without cost
dare he swims in a sea of naked taunts
dare he wade in a sultry ocean
dare he listen to pleading whispers
dare he…
Out of Body, Into Life
today, the air was different
I paid attention to the seabirds
watched the tide go all the way out
to my left, a boat hummed away from the harbour
to my right, lost sheep chew green grass into yellow
a car passes by and the people wave
while Jack the black cat sits still on a picket fence
and Patti, the old neighbour strokes the last drop of paint
…against his saltbox home
I am shaken by something I can’t understand
an algorithm of existing in a moment of my life
seeing clear because that life stopped me in my tracks
pushed my breath straight to my lungs
grew my heart for the love of living
filled me with the longing for more
I know now that there is something more to every day
my heart was smothered and my soul blinded
until my spirit had enough and awakened
Whispers Toward The Darkness
Another ten paces and I fall again
to my knees
the truth too unbearable
like the scorch of the sun, it will burn hot
no running will get you further away from it
no amount of water could ever cleanse
no sound can drown the songs of deceit
when devils are allowed to dance all around you
their voices are soft, tempting, and following
their gestures a play before only my eye
pull me and push me…my story, my actions, my ending
I’m in a trance and see the world beyond this painful pane
fraternizing with demons and laying proud in the shadows
but the promises I have received still lure me
so for now I will bed the malevolent
and risk the glass being broken
One Saturday
One Saturday
an old used-up weekend in my life
back when I was a small boy who took shortcuts home
I remember that Saturday and how golden was the hillside
how the fences cast shadows through blades of long grass
while it danced when the wind played the lead
along the way I ducked clotheslines with flapping white blankets and wool socks
that made dogs bark for no reason
almost home I stopped to take a drink
from a cold stream with those floaty things
a puttering engine in the distance pulled me up for a look
when I do I see a fishing boat breaking the glass harbour
I become lost in the triangle wake of that trail the vessel leads behind
as its crew steams toward their living into the greying eve
while seagulls give chase for little company
it stretches a few seconds for me for some reason
captivates me, holds my breath, takes grip of my soul
until the lighthouse steals away the attention
enough to break my trance
in time to hear the voice of my grandmother who sings my name
through the hills
beckons my return from the adventures of my childhood
it won’t be long now, just cross the torn bush garden and the triangle stone
like I remember…one Saturday
Earth To Ash 