ashleywords

Writer | Poet I would meet you where the spirit meets the bones��

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  • ashleywords 3w

    The longest winter❄



    It's winter already,
    I can hear
    the quivering winds
    snapping at the trees and hills,
    resting at wretched windows
    where lovers watch out
    the sky change hues
    and the hopeless hope
    for a less harsh winter,
    nipping at our numb noses,
    chilling bones,
    carrying along stories
    from lands of bright but cold sun
    putting summer to sleep
    under heaps of snow.
    The red Robins' choir
    flies out of nests to find food.
    I love how the sky is
    always grey
    engulfed in its own shadows.
    A touch of frost
    to the nature
    stealing all its pretty colours
    bathing in pearly white,
    a world drifting to a slumber
    feels like eternal
    holding things still
    in the dead of the doldrums.
    I see the winter
    grieving over the living deads
    whose hearts been
    clad of frozen frenzies
    and deceased dreams.
    The cold seems unforgiving
    I hope it hushes down
    the fiery figments
    from my longest winter
    one that has settled to my soul,
    staining my words,
    stealing my warmths.
    I hope I survive
    the frigid desolation
    creeping into my heart
    every winter
    since he's gone.
    I hope he never wins
    not this winter
    not the ones to come
    I will forever keep wishing
    over shooting stars
    and search for rainbows
    in his bloodied sky
    underneath spread
    the picturesque snowy lanes
    where my eyes will trace
    the remnants of our memories
    scattered in the air
    like the snowflakes.
    Damn if I could tell you
    the rotting roses
    shy on my bones
    more than ever
    in the depths of winter.
    They failed,
    they failed to bind strings
    across our hearts
    and therefore they never
    symbolised spring in my garden
    but rather
    a winter solstice
    where a heart shall never
    want to rise in revolt,
    a heart shall never try to fight
    the colds inside.
    It will just write poetries
    under clear, cloudless skies
    and wait winters to pass
    swiftly, silently
    without making much of a stir.
    Love was a pretty
    little thing
    sacred, sanctified
    like a heartbeat shared
    a heartbeat felt
    until you made it
    into a game
    until you froze my naive heart
    to death.
    Since then winters hasn't been
    any less of a wound
    that never gets to heal.




    @ashleywords

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    I fear flipping through
    the furious winter tales
    battering my bones
    far far away from the land
    where it could meet my soul
    under summer suns
    cause winters are dreary
    in my parallel
    and I don't quite see
    how deep the colds
    gorged down my core.

  • ashleywords 4w

    I never knew
    any other way
    than loving you in red.
    It was always
    so powerful
    and unapologetic.




    ©ashleywords

  • ashleywords 8w

    Six Summers Old��


    Abridged into a tale,
    six summers old
    of love and wails
    that couldn't reach a heart, cold.
    A saga of sail
    to the silent sea
    with ghastly shores and wrecks unfold.
    He was so handsome
    living in a mad house
    with a view of gold
    underneath lies the trails.
    When my ship rolled in
    that vicious night
    his island of artifice
    dressed like a young country lad
    left me drenched in all red.
    He was the wicked king
    to his cursed kingdom
    where even darkness fears to cling.
    His demons knows no mercy
    and a stare can kill at once,
    my heart in his frigid hands
    fits in so flawlessly
    as if it is where it was always
    meant to be.
    I perhaps wasn't the first
    to ever burst into the sea
    only to never return to see
    what the road "not taken"
    has to offer me.
    The water was frozen
    and the wind so chilled
    I couldn't discern
    the desolation creeping in.
    His touch brought forth
    a glow, gleaming like glitter,
    an euphoria of millennium
    in the dead of winter
    on the land of ill- starred
    where star crossed lovers meet
    only to be parted.
    The island was a hoax
    and everything's airy
    the forests drunk on the convictions
    of forlorn love
    of maidens who are
    sent off, heartless
    only to live a life of contrition.
    The days were bright
    but equally deceiving,
    magnificence bustling
    in life strings of trapped souls
    hopeful of clear days
    and a good sail
    back home.





    @ashleywords
    @writersnetwork @writersbay
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    I perhaps wasn't the first
    to ever burst into the sea
    only to never return to see
    what the road "not taken"
    has to offer me.



    ©ashleywords

  • ashleywords 8w

    @writersnetwork thank you for the repost❤
    I am humbled.

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    I have been breaking
    like the dandelion wishes
    unadorned,
    to heal your heart
    of a thousand glooms,
    the gales shouldering them
    as far as the edges of the sky.

    I have been scattering
    like the twilights, limpid
    unfurling cracked rays of hope
    like a melody in a distant land
    wild and unchased
    pleasant to ears
    that have only been treated to
    cacophony of lies.

    I have been breaking
    like the wishbones
    upon your scars
    to turn them into poetries,
    if not stars.
    I will sing them lullabies
    of happy mornings
    waking up with birds.

    I have been shining
    like the sacred aureole
    to light you through your blues,
    burning down
    on nights, cold and long
    keeping you warm
    in the cocoon of amor.

    I have been toning down
    like the sun, every dusk
    for you to shine the brightest
    in the night sky
    bestrewing across the vistas
    the charm of the silvers
    to the things, innate.



    ©ashleywords

  • ashleywords 8w

    Pen is Power

    There's a whole wide world
    under the same sun
    respiring in blue
    away from the humdrum
    that lives within
    my commas and full stops
    that needs no validation,
    no glory, no pomp,
    it silently heaves in
    the mightier nibs
    all day and night long.
    It seeks love in words
    and a happily ever after
    in phrases,
    where loved ones linger
    longer than our breathes
    in poems of
    how we love the way
    they loved us.
    There where time is frozen
    and goodbyes are sung
    in abundant,
    where mornings are sanguine
    and nights are warm
    where flowers never wither
    and trees ever young.
    where ink is wiser,
    more actuated
    than paradigms of
    the other world.


    Our destiny
    of together and forever
    beautifully calligraphed
    in gold,
    shall keep shining
    long after we are gone
    that which will be carried
    to the graves and beyond
    making the deads live,
    making the unloved love,
    a world where skies
    are splashed in
    pink and purple,
    and red shall be the helm.
    where fairy tales are
    perfected in papery
    flights of fancy
    into not so ordinary
    in existence
    and people shall fall
    in love with misfits
    and make it taste the
    eternal ambrosia.
    The pen shall be the
    sword to the questioned,
    the blues shall script
    unheard histories
    or maybe a sonnet
    of lost love
    decayed in time
    awaiting to be written
    upon the ethereal reaches
    like a love ever young
    like a song endlessly sung
    radiating an evermore tale
    through letters of haphazard hands
    soaked in tears
    of introspection of days
    so venerably turned to dust.


    A world so small to fit in
    nouns and verbs
    yet so boundless
    to reach the stars,
    A place where we celebrate
    scars and flaws
    in rhythms of rhymes
    into ever beautiful odes of
    heaven's dawn.
    What is even more beautiful
    is the actuality
    that this parallel world
    has always been there breathing
    inside each one of us
    in bits and pieces
    until we divulge it in words
    altering them into something magical
    something sacred
    to be remembered and forever hail,
    much much later
    when the poet dies,
    but the poem
    through everything it was
    made to go
    lives to see
    how it has turned into
    a metaphor for love and life,
    for hope and courage,
    for things, humane
    for ever blooming flowers
    of joy and happiness,
    for every time someone devours
    the poet's poem,
    the beloved will live a new life
    and die even mightier a death.




    ©ashleywords

  • ashleywords 10w

    I am a woman (against time)��



    I speak too loud
    I am not a woman

    I laugh too hard
    such a shameless

    I sit like my brother do
    not too girly

    I say no to a guy
    How dare I do that?

    I wear so bold
    I surely am a whore

    You went out late
    shouldn't you get raped?

    I love shorts
    but that's arousing

    I hate pink
    but who cares

    We don't drive well
    it's just a guy thing

    I better be fair
    cause that's ideal

    I got high heels
    they got bad mouths

    Slangs are sin
    when women utter

    You are so fat
    what a shame

    You are too thin
    what a pity

    30 and unmarried
    oh, poor soul

    Childless and happy
    you gotta be kidding

    A step mom?
    oh you can't be good

    Adopted kids
    you don't love enough

    Single mother?
    you need a man, babe

    Bright colours forbidden
    when you are a widow

    She got divorced
    must have cheated him

    Too educated?
    you won't find a guy

    He beats you, that's fine
    just a husband-wife thing

    You wanna work?
    but he earns enough

    Kitchen is where
    you belong, like forever

    Don't spill out of your cup
    better be in limits

    Don't go too rough
    You are delicate like rose

    Cry darling, cause
    that's what you are good at

    Forget travelling
    the society isn't too convinced

    I rise above conventions
    they pull me down harder

    I am single and settled
    they can't take it

    I will love myself
    they won't be at peace

    I will hate myself
    they will hate me more

    You have been touched
    but you should be okay

    Just keep mum,
    a matter of family's honour

    I feel pretty
    they call me a "show off"

    I earn more
    my man isn't too secure

    I like blue
    but that's not feminine

    I take up roles made for men
    they call me foolish

    I am happy
    they won't let me

    I object
    I am a mad in their eyes

    I rebel, I revolt
    our voices are silenced

    I am not sorry
    but I have been taught to

    I didn't ask it
    but it was my fate.



    @ashleywords


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    I am not sorry
    but I have been taught to

    I didn't ask it
    but it was my fate.


    ©ashleywords

  • ashleywords 10w

    Cornelia��



    And I will glitter like gold
    in the afternoon of cold
    in the outskirts of the town
    where we chased our
    last sunset, together
    and whatever,
    we are done
    I drove away in my corvette
    and you walked down
    the old street
    holding her hand.
    Yeah, I see
    Her name is Cornelia
    she's fine, she's wine
    she's that perfect divine
    who steals,
    She's everything you needed,
    you wanted
    and I
    I was all that you despised.
    Thank God
    the town no more talks about
    your pretty bride
    I heard about your affiance
    I hope you stick around this time
    You are good at breaking hearts
    but you know
    she's better at keeping men
    Her name is Cornelia
    she's fair, she's rare
    she's that after taste
    you yearn
    and I,
    I am the dreadful dreams
    you fright
    I see, I grasp
    how you affect me
    even now when you are
    an abstract in the abyss.
    I saw you by the Seine
    oh wait
    that's from the last time,
    a figment of my memory
    damn, I am losing now
    I see you in all the places
    of our secret meets
    you took your Cornelia to,
    Oh that's too much
    I have nothing to call mine now.
    My friends know
    I love a Roussillon boy
    and he's a coquet
    they warned me
    I abandoned,
    I am lonely
    they laugh at me,
    how stupid.
    I hated, he chose Cornelia
    he said she's a lady
    Yeah I see
    she's vivid, she's fitted
    she's that who makes men
    shed their devotion
    and I,
    I am now fancy- free
    I walk around bars
    and chase shadows in dark,
    pretty occupied
    since I am back in town
    I lost my heart to.
    He's handsome, he's tall
    and I recall
    in dark blue denims
    and crisp white shirt
    how he went down on knees,
    with roses and ease
    by the country side
    and I,
    I stand there still in time.
    Oh can you tell me
    how not to?
    cause it hurts
    seeing him love that way again.
    I bleed
    in the aftermath of his perfidy
    I scream, I screech
    sad, he couldn't hear me break
    He burnt all the bridges
    so I couldn't reach him,
    he took a part of me along
    and all the others rebelled.
    Now
    I hope Cornelia loves him
    the way I failed,
    hope she's half as good
    in writing you poems
    as I was
    or are you the one
    writing break up songs about
    cause she's perfect
    and I
    I make a rather sweet
    damsel in distress, all the time.
    and if you ask me
    how long will it take
    to come to terms,
    I will say an eternity
    cause I,
    I swear
    If I ever go back in time
    I will love you right.



    @ashleywords

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    Now
    I hope Cornelia loves him
    the way I failed,
    hope she's half as good
    in writing you poems
    as I was
    or are you the one
    writing break up songs about
    cause she's perfect
    and I
    I make a rather sweet
    damsel in distress, all the time.


    ©ashleywords

  • ashleywords 11w

    हम सोचते रहे की
    जो हमें हुआ, बेशुमार हुआ
    वो आपको क्यों नहीं,
    फिर लगा जरूरी तोह नहीं
    आपको भी हो,
    इश्क है
    हर किसी के बस की बात नहीं।


    ©ashleywords

  • ashleywords 11w

    किश्तों में ही सही
    हम से प्यार कर लो
    हम भूले बंजारन सी
    दिल-ए-गुलज़ार कर दो
    आप एक दफा
    हमसे मोहब्बत करने कि
    गुस्ताखी कर लो
    हम सो मार्तफा
    आप से वफ़ा कर जाएंगे
    हमें इश्क के उस गली ले चलो
    जहां घुम होना
    किसी हसीन सीतम से कम ना हो,
    किसी दिन बेखबर
    पुरानी कुर्ते की सिलवटों में मिलो
    वक़्त के तराशे उस डेयरी के
    आधे लिखें अल्फाज़ों में मिलो
    कोई शायर की शायरी के तराह:
    किसी बादामी शाम में मिलो
    हम आपको कवी की कविता के तराह
    लिख देंगे ख्याली रातों में
    नसीबों से चुरा के।
    आप पहली बारिश सा
    हमें भीगा जाओ
    हम मिट्टी सा महक उठेंगे
    खुशबू बेपाक।




    @ashleywords

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    आप एक दफा
    हमसे मोहब्बत करने कि
    गुस्ताखी कर लो
    हम सो मार्तफा
    आप से वफ़ा कर जाएंगे।



    ©ashleywords

  • ashleywords 11w

    Not- so- ruins of Hampi ��


    I know I have lost people
    I think they felt suffocated
    I loved too much
    but now when I look back
    it's all worth it
    I have found my peace
    I am back to being myself
    Yes I am still in pain
    but I am sure
    one day it will stop hurting
    It surely will, right?
    and perhaps I would feel nothing,
    just empty inside
    living with the void
    that blank space will prick
    the 3 am's will haunt
    the pillows will be dampened
    but does that matter?
    at the end of the day
    I will walk myself home
    I will guide my soul through
    I will cry myself to sleep
    and I will push myself
    outta bed with the birds
    every morning.
    That last autumn leaf
    on the tree by my casement
    will keep me going
    I know hope is little too heavy
    for my shoulders
    carrying all my blunders of past
    that I plan to shed someday soon
    around that old rosy cafe
    I met you first
    and you took my breath away.
    Now I feel as if
    I just got my breath back
    my soul is just back home
    from a journey to the unknown,
    it just had it's worst nightmares
    and I am comforting it.
    No, love isn't bad
    love isn't wrong
    it's just that love and time still
    have a thing to do with harmony.
    They don't match the vibes,
    like not always.
    Bad, yeah.
    I know my poems are sad
    I know they talk of lost love,
    of people who chose to leave,
    of fractured hearts and of living deads
    but aren't we little more affixed
    to all that is sad and broken?
    aren't they beautiful?
    They know we could see
    through the cracks
    yet their smiles fill the rifts
    with dusted gold
    like the art of Kintsugi.
    Their faith is bigger
    cause they have seen themselves
    begging God to heal.
    Love will not stop being
    a metaphor for hurt
    till we keep falling for the one
    we always knew never meant for us
    but it's just that
    our hearts never learn lessons
    they tend to break rules for the unruled.
    Trust me
    time doesn't always help
    we wait and Decembers passed
    we try and not a thing change
    to be honest, we don't try enough.
    Because we want to keep on
    feeling the pain
    all that is left to our living is this pain
    which makes us little alive
    and once it's gone,
    it's just emptiness.
    And what do you do
    when you can still count
    all those times your heart burnt
    in his blasphemies
    on your finger tips.
    I tried but with time
    it was easy to understand
    People doesn't get replaced
    the new ones make their space
    and rebounds were unfair
    you don't use a person to get over,
    do you?
    You want someone
    to stop by to mend your insides
    yet you don't,
    you are afraid to show
    all the fallen walls of your castle
    But darling you need to sense
    that was made of sand
    and it has to go down
    the waves were strong
    You want someone
    to sit by your side to read your poetries
    yet you don't
    you fear what if they read you
    between the lines
    and you can't handle another storm.
    You want someone
    to kiss you scars
    yet you don't
    you don't wish to be judged
    on stories they tell
    you are so protective of your saga,
    you don't want another city of residue.
    You see them, maybe with someone else
    I know you shouldn't be hurting
    it's quite long and draining
    but you can't help
    the familiar pangs of pain creeps in
    The last time you promised
    in front of the mirror
    you are too pretty for tears
    yeah stick to that
    because he ain't coming back
    and you will only make a fool of yourself.
    The night I realized
    wishes are answered, longings don't
    prayers are heard, silences aren't
    and stars are better off far
    touching them will only burn your fingers
    That's the night I stopped complaining
    I stopped begging.
    Hope will take time to build
    a warm cozy home inside of you
    but it will surely do
    First, you gotta clean out your
    not- so-ruins of Hampi.


    @ashleywords




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    I know my poems are sad
    I know they talk of lost love,
    of people who chose to leave,
    of fractured hearts and of living deads
    but aren't we little more affixed
    to all that is sad and broken?
    aren't they beautiful?
    They know we could see
    through the cracks
    yet their smiles fill the rifts
    with dusted gold
    like the art of Kintsugi.


    ©ashleywords