A Shade of Ash # 19 – The Write Start In My Life

When I was a young boy, my grandmother would always tell me that I was bound for something great. Glimpses of me behind a desk somewhere with a pen and paper. No more substance than that. Just that nothing else would fit what mould she had envisioned for me. She would tell me this with a smile and pride in her voice. It would instantly make me smile too. But, for years I wondered what that meant. Now, as a published poet and six years deep into my blog, Earth to Ash, amongst creating every single chance I get, this is what she had seen. This is what she knew was coming for me. A future with writing. Sharing my thoughts, feelings, and emotion to the world around me. Like I have said from the start. I don’t consider myself to be a great writer, but I am enjoying the journey of someday becoming one. And when I reach that goal, it will forever be because of Theresa Douglas. Nan/Mom, if only you could read those words you seeded inside this soul of mine that writes to connect forever with yours and the world can take a peek too. – Ash

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

Journal Entry # 227 – I Staged this Photo

There is nothing like keeping a deja vu in your back pocket. Easily triggered by the stimulus that surrounds you. Today, a walk to the edge of the harbour and my whole life flashed back. All it took was the smell of saltwater, the touch of a rains mist, and wonderful memories came flooding back as strong as the approaching tide. A picture is wharf a thousand words. – Ash

Me and the End of Summer

Red sky evenings
I remember them
stretched highway at eight o’clock
over the overpass to watch
there is one last summer night coming out to play
my pace quickens to catch up
traffic flies by this one road boy
who is wandering far from what he can recognize
adventure must be the same no matter where you are
until I pass by an old train track that divided two kinds
no friends from either so I move on
you could hear blades of grass keep a cool breeze in check
slowing down seconds for teenagers of the land
to win toys, steal kisses, and lose ice cream
it is impossible to be this alone
with Carnival noises filling the air
but the lights threaten shadows
the stars show up, crowds filter, I am lost
walking forever on the eve of September
heading back to the red road toward home

Something About Today # 3

I remember nights growing up where a neighbourhood street light made for the perfect set piece to the play of summer. – Ash

Something About Today # 2

I remember how long summer days were as a kid. It seemed as if there was time even between the seconds. – Ash

A Shade of Ash # 15 – Today’s A Given

As another day sets, I stand in retrospect and watch as the sun goes away…maybe forever. A few minutes left of today to ponder some yesterdays with an old friend who has since lost his battle. Sadly, I am reminded of one of the realities of life is death. And, how sometimes we take life for granted not knowing for sure if tomorrow will be. – Ash

Just Before The Bridge

four shadows passing by midnight
the king, the jack, the ace, and the joker
pushing and shoving…jousting in jest
their laughter lulling the moon
as street lights froze everything in time
and the world just slept
shuffle and stroll in the wake of the chopping shore
they poked and praised, challenged some more
free until the sun began to peek
then they retreat with the dampening dew
enough stories for a thousand tomorrows
from a single night
a key to a forever yesterday

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