It took a long time for me to consider myself a writer. I still struggle with saying it. I started writing at a young age to work through feelings I didn’t dare tell anyone. I learned that once you start writing, it becomes a part of you. It’s something you always go back to whenever you are overwhelmed with certain emotions. People don’t always listen to your words, but the paper always listens to the pen.
my wolves.
i run with wolves, warriors with softly resilient hearts i hold hands with heroes, my hesitant fingers bound in theirs because they give me the strength to rise above the fire to run among the pines to break glass ceilings they teach me how to be patient they show me...
Book Review – a jar for the jarring
Candice Louisa Daquin of The Feathered Sleep Candice's first poetry book has a unique tale on a confessional style, and the lay out works well fir it. She merges darkness and melancholy into a tale for transformation from child to adult, touching on the trials that...
sunrise.
i stood beneath a shivering sunset, wrapped in the soft brutality of its fading light i listened to the night life heralding the coming stars, and i remembered all the wishes we’d made from cold balconies on lonely evenings, all the promises that were whispered even...
cleansed.
i spent hours beneath the rain collecting seashells, wandering the shore, this mind of mine lost in its own world i fed the sea memories, silent songs of this saudade in my veins i watched the previous day get washed away by the waves, so many lost hours swept...
bliss.
i wake on sheets as soft as flower petals, tulips and tiger lilies pressed against bare skin the day tastes like orange blossom and amaretto, sunbrushed summer exploding on my tongue and there is no waiting for love see, i prayed for heaven, and it was delivered, all...
sunset to sunrise.
i stood beneath a shivering sunset, wrapped in the soft brutality of its fading light i listened to the night life heralding the coming stars, and i remembered all the wishes we’d made from cold balconies on lonely evenings, all the promises that were whispered even...
my heart will outlast your hurricane.
i was gone long before you noticed, drifting beyond your lonely lighthouse shine i refused to be another casualty of your raging storms, your lightning strikes creating seaglass memories, proof that there is still strength in these bones - ashley jane
i live in the lyrics.
it’s funny, the things remembered most too often, i exist in a dream-like state, pictures flooding in because some song on the radio insisted that i hadn’t reminisced in far too long like, the way hank williams songs remind me of learning to drive...
only the divine.
we watched the birds soar, convinced that spirit moved them because only something holy could ease the ache we’ve been carrying, only the divine could turn this pain into poetry - ashley jane
moon child.
they call her moon child, the girl with a midnight soul and an anxious heart she listens to their soft hum music as they sing songs to the forest trees about all her phases, the way she moves between new moon voodoo and full moon magic, the way she knows all your...