by cabin four, sitting on a crooked step
forest sounds could be heard
trees whispering
brooks babbling on
birds fight for a sleeping spot
Sleep Away Camp
Tag: youth
Earth to Ash Episode Fifty One – Life’s a Beach
Welcome back, join me and my continuing conversation about my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to the world around me.
In this episode, I’m at the beach vibing, taking it all in, reminiscing about days gone by, and giving my mental health a much-needed breath of fresh salty air. So, please take a moment and share a few of mine. And, as always, I throw in a poem, no wait…two poems for good measure.
Enjoy!!
Email: earth2ash@gmail.com
A Night with George
Photo By: Sara Swain
street of dampened cobblestone
dirty pigeons and trampled smokes
where marquee lights faded in the creeping sun
and police cruiser chirps, shooed on
as randoms of strangers filter out of holes in the walls
scurrying from the light
with squinted eyes, messed up hair…
empty pockets and smeared makeup
they all zombie
stagger…stumble…kiss and curse
down a drunk-filled stretch
past half-eaten pizza by the atm
after the hot dogs being served with rotten hands
before the guy with the sign looking for money
next to the lady who bums cigarettes
while muffled beats still play out
faint
like the night is still hanging on
barely
to dull-sounding music like life support
it makes you sick as you stand there
then you laugh for no reason
check your pockets
and hail that holy cab
Black and White Memories
Sunday morning
I could smell the scent of church perfume
Nan must have just left
Pop is cooking me eggs and mmm…eggs like no others
special
for me
he loved it
taking his time, trying not to break the yolk
my thing, his thing, our thing
then I appeared
through the kitchen archway
straight to the table and that inside chair
my spot til university
pop’s service was top-notch
always repeating no more
then you turn the tiny knob
on the black and white tiny old TV
cracks of static at first
our favorite show flickers and plays on
it must be ten o’clock now
because the sun is stretching through the window
reaching the rocking chair
where pop is sitting in listen
here’s to adventure
here’s to romance
here’s the Cisco kid
not a word is spoken
souls in harmony
time in quantity
a moment in quality
memories of black and white
bring me the most colour
Terminal Panic – Haiku
in a strange city
both sitting at the bus stop
hoping that one’s home
Back Before Supper
my face lay against the sweltering rock
with one side toward the sun kisses
clouds above me stream along
shapes and sizes I make
a tickle breeze keeps me away from biting flies
my knee is skinned and bleeding a little
is it supper time
as a whistle blows
cars scurry home like ants
wait…is that a plane
then we jump
from the rocket-like stone
twist our ankles to the ouch side in
wince and run the whole field in one burst
we reach that one spot and act like kings for a summer second
looking down on the kingdom
running into battle against invisible soldiers
to break through to reach home
where there’s a bush with some berries
by the picket fence and an ant hill
I ate five
you a handful
back then…
back before supper
Feel for Home – Haiku
more comfortable
when I walk home in the fog
I recreate it
Back Arm Trail
when I was young
I took the back arm way home
where the town ended and the forest began
the whole journey protected
by those evergreen trees I shared days with
every step was like a play
knowing the parts by heart, knowing the story to home
running along in places
others stopping for a spell
little legs, lasting time in the in-between moments of my once-life
A Man Who Walked Through Beads
on the edge of my seat.. bout 6:30
my best behaviour on display
the only way someone else taught me
all the rain had just stopped
as I watched a man walk through beads
My Feelings
that time in the evening
of a September day
is a feeling
a time when thoughts can drift
when sound stays quiet
the road a certain hue of grey
like the sky, maybe one shade away
sometimes I look down and count the patches
kick the broken asphalt
to the dirted sides
where the trees grow
the berries bush
and flowers wild
I look harder at things
appreciate that I am
then
remember someone
think of some time
escape back to a similar place
that time in the evening
I could see into kitchens
and all those moths swarming the post-office lights
hear dogs and guess which one
see cats and watch them go home
smell sawdust and smile
that time in the evening
of a September day
was a feeling
