Autumn

I'm sitting here at my desk sipping on a peppermint mocha, staring out my window. The sky is overcast and the wind is blowing-- I cannot tell if it's chilly, or if, somehow, it's still slightly warm.
But I'm fully certain that now it is finally fall. The air has a different feel- crisp, like the leaves which are changing color (or are soon to be.) Soon, it will more than likely be snowing.
These days do not force me to wake up early. I jolt out of bed when I see the gray glow from in between my curtains. I do not want to miss this.
And soon, the holidays, my favorite time of year-- will begin. Pumpkins will give way to turkeys, then my favorite, Christmas. "Silver bells..."
I love autumn.



By Ashley Dodge©

bathrooms

Ever wondered why bathrooms are so comforting? I do. Whenever I get upset, I run to the bathroom and find myself on its cold floor, my head against the toilet or tub. I sink into the room, letting the bare walls rise above me, creating a protective barrier from myself and the outside world.
I don't understand why, but when I am huddled into the corner bleeding my eyes out, I feel most comfortable, most peaceful. In this room everything seems to sort itself out, all things fall into place.
Is it because I can lock the door and stay in this room for hours, if need be, and it will be socially acceptable for anyone to not ask why? Is it because it is the single room in the house which people will not find it in themselves to ask why we are going in there?
I don't know, but what I do know is, when I stand up, wash my face, and clean up my tears and unlock the door- I feel like I've left whatever pain I've had to face behind me.

Future

Share
with me dreams, scars, pleasure.
Take
with you my own.
Need
with me, together we will confront fear.
Unknown
to you I am a flightless bird,drained of will to fly
Create
with me poetry to dissolve
all leftover
anguish and tears.


By Ashley Dodge©

I spent four years hearing lies, now wondering why they aren't reality...could it be I was just delusional? Or maybe the lies are actually truth? Please spare me the "it'll be o.k." I know it will, I have faith it will. Just stop lying to me, will ya?

Drifting

I'm finally finished with school. New possibilities, rethinking my writing, having time to edit. Amazing, how fast time passes.

Tonight I wandered away from the river house. I wandered down the pine-lined path of twilight and emerged on the other side. A small town, in the bottom of the valley, lights from downtown. Pale orange, like the sun when it had burnt her hair. The bar was quaint, quiet. The bar tender, Irish-accented, offered me a beer. I'd never drank.
I walked back home during at dawn. The forest always looks different. Less menacing, friendly. Trees whisper good morning, dew falling onto fresh-soaked grass.
I crawl into bed. No one hears it squeak.
I would return again.






By Ashley Dodge©

Crisis

A twilight glow falls over an endless
foggy haze and rushing winds--
which sweep my heart away, leaving in its path, dust and teardrops
which
blotting out my footsteps
make it harder to keep steady

I pass signs, signals and lightning flashes,
hitting the ground
raindrops shatter
what was left of
weather-beaten harmony
on this path

to unknown destiny
to unknown cities
towns, waiting quietly
up ahead
where this dusty, broken path leads...

Mid-Winter Saturday

Spring is attempting to push winter away, colliding into the season with full force. Winter presses forward with a biting wind, remnants of a midnight snow fall the night before. But spring's sun and warm 48-degree weather fights, fights to come through too early. It continues, only seconds left before the door closes behind me. I find out later, as I return across the damp, sunshine-lit March afternoon grass, that winter has won. The wind swirls my tangled red hair round, round, in front of my face. Getting stuck to my lipgloss. My sweater and flannel pajama pants were not enough, I think to myself, bursting back through the door. All this arguing, caught in the middle for the sake of bringing to my boyfriend's house breakfast--a box of Cocoa Puffs, Folgers coffee and my laptop, to do some homework.

Samantha

Children were everywhere--on the slides, playing soccer on the fields of dying grass, on the bleachers, drinking Diet Coke because their mother's did. Samantha urged Orchid to play with her dolls everyday at recess. Today Samantha was gone. Tomorrow, Orchid was sure, Samantha would be gone again. Her absence gave Orchid nightmares. She'd remembered the quiet tears her mother had shed after Samantha's mother had called. At least, she thought her mother had called. Orchid left school early that day. It was raining.
Orchid heard shouts. She looked up from her tattered pink spiralbound journal, a birthday present from Samantha last year at her 10th birthday. The glittered butterfly, glue to the cover, made by Samantha herself, was beginning to wear away. Orchid wrote the last line to her version of pain relief--poetry. They wanted her to join in their game of tag. Orchid used the bathroom instead, hiding herself in the stall until the bell rang.
But Orchid did not cry for Samantha's absence. Samantha was in her journal, in her dreams and even the nightmares. Samantha's brown hair, strands blowing in the wind despite the crowd surrounding her broken body on the stretcher. Orchid didn't need her mother to tell. She'd been missing for two days after Orchid sleptover. Samantha had been ill, the strands of brown hair falling out in chunks. Last week, on her 11th birthday, she'd asked Orchid for one gift. That she'd never tell. Never tell anyone about the water spirits that called to her, that the Bible she kept underneath her mattress had told her not to follow. That God wouldn't want her to do this, that she had worth, purpose. But Samantha didn't know what to choose. She only felt the pain of needles, surgery and not being able to eat chocolate ice cream or pizza.
But Orchid didn't know how much she'd miss Samantha's smile. The one that made Orchid know friendship. The one who read to her poetry. The one who, before Orchid had returned home that night, whispered into her ear "don't tell, you promised. You promised you would live for me." The river had consumed her. It had been raining.
After recess, Orchid went back to her class. She answered questions when asked, turned in her math exam.
After school, she went to a small grassy grave in the cemetery down the street from the school. She laid the journal, along with an orchid she had kept in her bag, the one her mother had bought yesterday and would ask later that night where it had gone,beside the stone gray cross. She whispered goodbye. Later, she sat down by the river and watched the water flow.

By Ashley Dodge©

Alice

Lately, I've been inspired by fairytales. I went to the midnight premiere of Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland and it was stunning. The world of Tim Burton visually brings the fairy tale to life; brilliance at its best.
When I walk around my campus or lay awake and see stars peeking in through my blinds, I realize just how much I want to write about the beauty we miss in our lives filled with homework, computer screens, migraines and disappointment.
Alice held her own; she fought, with every ounce she had, to accomplish her goals.
"I won't cry... when the world's crashing down, when I finally hit the ground, I won't turn myself around, don't you try to stop me," Avril Lavigne sings in "Alice Underground."
Simple words.
Powerful meaning.
I'm already living my fairy tale. Sometimes it's slaying the Jabberwocky. Sometimes its realizing you've been rejected from graduate school and need to begin your career.
I'm ready to live out my goals, dreams and accomplish the impossible.

Windowpanes

The lush green landscape withers away from
my consciousness
I'm running from windowpanes
frosted
with my face pressed against the glass
watched you drive away
black stains appeared
on crumbled paper

The sunlight fades
and I feel the night closing in
wind chilling, whispering with
the trees
the image follows me

I'm running from windowpanes
memories of a haunted name
that enchants my reveries
and brings the rain
hiding the sunlight
on my skin
I'm running from windowpanes
and the frost within

by Ashley Dodge©

My Life

You are the keeper of the breath
in my lungs which produce
the cries from the depths of
my unquieted soul
I will search for you in every star
in the moon's dull glow over the Earth
in the evenings when sea mist rises and blankets
when all is quiet I will be still
in awe of the wonder
that you loved one like me
and I am forgiven
unworthy
of such a Keeper's love

by Ashley Dodge©

You

I'll wait for you by the ocean
watching the waves crash on sharp-edged rocks
sea lions' chants drifting in the distance
the fog carries my despair over
a city which doesn't sleep
I will be waiting for you
to claim me again
until I know my thirst for you
will never be quenched
I wait for a time when I give myself over
to the wonders of you...

by Ashley Dodge©

The Artist

stars were called by name
and placed throughout the universe, dark
expansive
glowing abundantly
small worlds were created, hung intricately
in place
I will search for You
in stars, in the twinkle of the night
when I see the moon rise,
I will see the Artist's glow
Your love burning radiantly
in the coolness of night
the changing colors of autumn
in the depths of my heart
I stare at the stars and feel
the universe shouting your name
in the silence I see a falling star
and feel Your presence
all around me.

by Ashley Dodge©

Rose

I promise when roses bloom again
I'll make rose wreaths and place
them in my hair
to remember when you brought me lilies
in the middle of a winter storm and yet
I would shake, in the night
unable to touch you
I sleep calmly again
and when I dream
I'm making rose wreaths
to put in my hair

by Ashley Dodge©

One day

the glimmer in the eyes of
the girl in the mirror
streaming tears down her
frostbitten face--weathered,
left cold over years
of dying to the world
and its promises, its expecations
falling for the lucrative lust
of lies in magazine pages
defining the purpose
and will to live
had nothing to do with character

the glimmer of the eyes of
the girl on the floor
a Bible in her hand
and a bottle of pills in another
who noticed the shards
stabbing into her heart?

The sparkle in the eyes
of the girl, just waking--
an overcast morning
she dresses pristinely
reads her Bible and drinks her coffee
wondering when, just when,
the pain will go away.

by Ashley Dodge©

fainted

I gathered my books
lay them on the couch
fell to the floor and wondered
I fainted and fell into
unconscious dreaming
falling into your voice, like honey
bittersweet, my tears tasted by your
tongue
this moment I surrender
to your intentions
your emotions

I gather my book
lay it to the side
of my twin bed
If I wandered away from here
would I shatter like glass
or remain frozen in this trance?

Your memories flood my desires
my wishes leak from the edges
your touch could bring it back
what had been misplaced

the book lies on the ground
unable to fend for itself
it burns
until my thoughts of you
drift away silently
on the smoke of those emails,
letters
and photographs--
memories of you.

by Ashley Dodge©

Part 2: Happy New Year!

Last night a decade ended. Or did it? Some say it isn't until 2011 when this decade is over. Either way, the excitement for this new year excites me, much like every year. Except this year, I didn't have a party, I didn't go out and staying up until midnight was nothing ( I stay up to at least two or three each night).
As the year ended, I found myself wondering exactly what I'd accomplished in 2009. I'd managed to overcome some horrible episodes of anxiety and loneliness. I finished an internship in a field I despised. I lost passion for the said field, but gained passion in another.
So this year, in following with my writing mantra, I'm set out to accomplish these goals:
-put together a book of my poetry
-finish my book I'm writing (look up Grammar Girl's "How to Write Your First Novel" podcast; its inspiring)
- find a new and exciting job
- and of course, weight loss would be awesome

Not really excellent or well-thought out goals, but these are just a few of many.

And a side note: if you haven't and you are a fan, Lady Gaga's The Fame Monster is incredibly different, energetic and excellent. I would suggest listening to it.