Poems
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Sometimes I am Ashley, and Sometimes Mae. I am one, I am none, I am both. My identity is complex and ever shifting with the seasons. Sometimes I am “Ashley”- the gifted middle child who overcame an unstable upbringing to become a successful business woman. Sometimes I am “Mae”- the impulsive creative with a Renaissance
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I’ve long suspected that I’d never live by The word. The pen is not the sword that cuts My path. It hangs on the wall as mere decoration Because I lack what it takes to Become The warrior poet
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I wish life was as soft as a bedtime story-Gentle tales about gentle lives. I wish the world was as simple as a fairytale,With clear distinctions between wrong and right. I wish that reality was as gentle as a lullabye,With the soothing notes soft as starlight. I wish you an eternity of peaceful dreamsThe sweet
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I’ve always loved the wind. I love hearing it howl through the chimney like a restless spirit and tickle wind chimes like a fairy. I love watching it shake tree branches, and make leaves dance across the street. I love feeling it cool my skin on hot summer days, and steel my breath away in
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Like the 3 faced goddess, I’ve lived 3 lives in one: see The maiden I was, the mother I am, And the crone I’ll become. The Circle of Life and the Wheel of Time Spin together as one. In an unending dance- It shifts like the moon and rises like the sun. Ever present in
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I can’t concentrate long enough To write, or to paint. I long to create But I’m too tired to do more than stare at the blank page And imagine.
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I knew we didn’t have money, But I didn’t know we were poor- Until I ran out of fingers to count The number of pieces I returned. When we were playing a game, To check our privileged status And my hands were full of Empty air. A ledger of my societal debt.
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I am the unending night that swallows the day. I am the warmth of the cold sun before it fades. I am the glow of the moon on a frozen ground. I am the falling snow that muffles all sound. I am the north wind that bites, and the cardinal that sings. I am the
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A poem a day,Some therapists say,Holds darkness at bay,And keeps madness delayed. A poem a day,The readers will say,helps the soul to conveywhat it’s hidden away. But, A poem a day,The writers all say,May keep the muses in sway,But won’t keep the bills paid.
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Peace of mind tastes bitter When racing thoughts are enticingly sweet. Creativity, Industry, and Possibility Season the feast of ideas That makes sleep feel like an untasted meal And moderation feel like starvation.
Bringing Mae Flowers 