Thank you so much. I cannot actually express how mad I am about the OA. I did it in such a calm and casual way in this piece but honestly, once a week I remember they cancelled it and I have to make myself a cup of tea and go listen to the birds. Such a cliffhanger. Netflix are savages.
I stayed in bed
until I reached
the outskirts of morning.
The birds gave pep talks
instead of songs.
I got changed
and found ten dollars
in my pocket.
It’s summer but it rained
and I wonder why nobody
has made laundry powder
that smells exactly like this.
I make the perfect eggs.
The toaster
that loves to burns the edges
leaves them edible.
I thank it for its kindness.
I go outside and jump in a puddle.
There is still that childhood dream
that it will be a portal
to an alternative dimension.
One where Netflix didn’t cancel the OA.
One where we could trade
our sadness for money.
Gosh, would I be filthy rich.
Me and the neighbour
do our awkward dance.
The small talk jive.
We bow and say
‘have a nice day!’
We really mean it.
I walk to the coffee shop
and the sky is still
rubbing sleep from its eyes.
The wind is playing solos
on telephone wires.
I hold the door for a stranger
and we share a smile.
I tell the barista a joke
and we both laugh
at how unfunny it is.
I take the ten dollars
and order a flat white, one sugar.
I say keep the change.
I find a bench, and I ruminate.
I realise
Happiness is right here –
why are we crying
like it is so far away?
I’m obsessed with your writing style. This is such a wonderful reminder to appreciate the little things.
Also: i, too, wish that Netflix hadn’t cancelled the OA.
Thank you so much. I cannot actually express how mad I am about the OA. I did it in such a calm and casual way in this piece but honestly, once a week I remember they cancelled it and I have to make myself a cup of tea and go listen to the birds. Such a cliffhanger. Netflix are savages.
Greetings,
Your ode is stunning, shows the magic in living in the little moments and to cherish them. You never know when you’ll be mourning an old favorite. My condolences.
As a writer, I often find myself discovering scraps of writing I have jotted down somewhere, or suddenly, a line will appear in my head that doesn’t fit anywhere or doesn’t feel good enough. Sometimes, I foolishly let it fly away because it wasn’t what I was looking for at that moment. I have pondered how we do this with so many things. We set expectations and order and refuse anything that breaks the pattern, even if the thing we are shooing away isn’t harmful but is healing. We become so strict within ourselves that we become the cause of our discomfort. We search for relief in one way and refuse to accept that anything other than that specific thing will help. There is a calming effect that comes with the familiar, but only because one thing helps us, it doesn’t mean something else won’t. Here is a little silly analogy. Only because you love fries doesn’t mean you can’t like mash. It doesn’t mean mash isn’t satisfying, even if fries are your favorite. The same goes for everything in life. Are you feeling sad? Then you probably know something that can help, but if you are being entirely honest, can you say you are open-minded and open-hearted to other options? We tend to dismiss things before attempting them and convince ourselves that something else won’t work until it stands no chance. I was against exercising for so long. Told myself that I hated it and did so with such intensity I couldn’t let myself feel how I genuinely felt. There was no benefit because I refused there to be one. I was determined for it to fail, so it failed; however, when I let go, gave it a chance, and approached it with openness, I learned it does a lot for my mental health. This is one example of many. It is strange how this links with my writing and how I have started writing down the notes I would abandon before, and the results have been incredible. Instead of telling myself they are awful and brushing them out the door, I let them stay a while. I give them room in my notepad and let them ruminate.
In summary, I am saying we are terrible at giving things chances, and we should open ourselves to everything. It is okay if you give something a genuine attempt and it doesn’t work out for you, but please try it. Download the running app, try those HIIT workouts, make that recipe you’ve been unsure about, and write the poetry you are sure will suck. In celebration of this, here is an ending of a poem my brain created that doesn’t have a body yet. Hopefully, one day, it will.
“Please call back later
I’m trying to sleep off the silence
And if you don’t understand
what I’m saying
Congratulations
You’re cured.”
(If you like this letter, I write these weekly on my website. I will post more here also, so make sure we’re friends.)
Ash, your letter is amazing. It’s true that we often ignore or overlook the potential healing and growth that can come from surprising sources. We become so set in our ways, clinging to what is familiar and comfortable, that we miss out on new possibilities. It takes courage to step outside our comfort zones and give things a genuine chance. Your…read more
I am still learning how to use this platform, so this delay comes with an apology. Thank you so much.. Please check out my other work and I will be sure to check out yours.
I hope you will forgive my late reply; I am still getting used to this platform. Your words truly mean a lot, and I just sent a friend request. I would love to read your work and connect more.
Hello, my name is Ash Raymond James.
Count the rings around my eyes;
they will tell you I’m infinite.
Thirty-three but endless.
I am six feet tall,
but I have sixty-foot confidence.
I am not capable of being embarrassed,
but have you seen the way I dance?
I look like I’m on fire
and I probably should be ashamed
but I often end up setting the night ablaze
because I have the sort of joy
that is contagious.
My favourite song is my own laughter.
I laugh at my own jokes until it rains.
The sky has a secret addiction
to dad jokes and other people’s happiness.
It cries out of pure elation.
Finds it insulting when people
don’t throw down in its puddles
so I shimmy a little
and I don’t care who’s watching.
I am the sort of person
who could accidentally start a flash mob.
People have the audacity
to tell me I have no rhythm
but I move to a melody
only a few can comprehend.
I think I am a little ahead of my time.
There is a chance I am from the future
or I could have just watched too many sci-fi movies.
It’s been said that my head is in the clouds
but I am actually wiping stardust
from my moustache, often
as I have always believed
if you aren’t going to pay attention
you may as well discover planets.
It took some work, but I finally understand self-gentleness.
My heart makes my mind breakfast in bed,
and my mind sings lullabies to my heart
whenever it can’t sleep and throws itself around my chest.
I learnt the secret to breathing
is realising you deserve every breath
and now I swim with the fishes
in my spare time.
The kindest thing I ever did was love myself;
the bravest thing I am ever going to do
is never stop
even when my every atom
is trying to convince me I should.
Hi Ash, I love this… the humor, gentleness and unique touches put into it… seems like it reflects the really dope individual that you are! Plus, I LOVE dancing lol it’s extremely joyful 😎
Ash! This is good! Never stop dancing. Never stop laughing at your own jokes. And if you start a flash mob, can you please make sure I am around? This piece made me smile on a gloomy Saturday. Thank you for sharing and thank you for being part of our Unsealed family. <3 Lauren
Starting with “say yes immediately!” is such a bold and inviting way to start a poem; I love it! This poem kind of sounds like the instability of anxiety in someone’s mind. I love the way you showed rather than told. Thank you for sharing 🙂
I am still learning how to use this platform, so this delay comes with an apology. Thank you so much.. Please check out my other work and I will be sure to check out yours.
Wow… I LOVE the way you speak. The verbiage really paints a picture. I feel like the words you used dance together in a very moving way. I absolutely love the use of personification. You really animate the story you’re telling with the way you string words together. “ I have seen skeletons rediscover their heartbeats” is an amazing line. Keep it up!
I hope you will forgive my late reply; I am still getting used to this platform. Your words truly mean a lot, and I just sent a friend request. I would love to read your work and connect more.