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AshestoAshes

PO# 262670
Ireland
Ireland
Real name: Aishling, 22 years old and a student of Human Rights, English, and Philosophy :)
January 12, 2018
 

The crowning dawn crows,
In mirth, taunting,
All the dreams that were the night before.
As the sun crests the hill,
There in the sweet shadow spots of evergreens,
And blossoming trees,
Grows the darkness of a soul both too young and old,
For all that has been the night before,
As the crowning dawn crows at the glistening heart of the sun.
Well, the night that was before fades,
And all the dreams are sunk,
Into a deepening, cold and frothy Earth,
Waiting for the dreams to bloom again, in the twilight,
Before the crowing of the crowning dawn.

SET THE MOOD
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January 5, 2018
 

The sky darkens but not with clouds,
Or tear dropping, rain dropping, rip your heart out storms...
Oh the sky darkens, darkens like the last breath I draw
Before I curl my lips at your neck, and close my eyes to breathe you in...
The sky darkens, in that moment of silence where a heartbeat could measure infinite awakening life,
The sky darkens, darkens a day that meets it's end, with the hands and the heart of a long lost friend.

Oh the sky darkens, it darkens at night, where the deep and silent things spread out day-charged limbs in their faltering light.

The sky darkens, yes it darkens, like the depth of a sea under a cloudless, starry night until the storm begins with technicolo...

THE SUN
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September 4, 2017
 

The electric hum matches my ire
As I watch pixelated faces disappear
Like scratching an itch.

I press "delete", finally, after a year
And the text doubles,
As my eyes lose focus,
My fingers happily clicking away,
Dancing to an electric hum.

The number falls from 210 to 150
And oh, I itch for more.

The sky is grey and close,
Yet glowing from my lap,
Iridescent eyes painted in chrome and steel,
Watch, watch on, as fingers dance to an electric hum.

STAY RAW
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August 21, 2017
Ireland

Slowly letting go of
A cloud held on a string.
Setting it down low,
Where all the dreams go.
As the rain begins to sing,
With tender kisses,
And a touch just as soft,
I didn't notice when the cloud began to storm,
And the touch turned to frost.

Did it hurt you, the first time I cried,
When your anger couldn't be satisfied,
And when the pain wouldn't end
And how you couldn't bend
To allow that maybe you were wrong...

But like a cloud, like nature, you storm.
Without reason, without a warning.
Like a gentle cloud, until you storm,
I'll write dreams onto your face,
Until it twists our fate
Until it settles down, into the ground.
Your storm slowly being let go,
Where all the dreams go,
As the ...

TOTAL ECLIPSE 2017
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July 19, 2017
Ireland

It's a whisper,
That builds in the dark.
A crescendo carrying all my heart.
There in the moonlight,
Where the music sings,
I'll find you.

LIVE AID 1985
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June 7, 2017
Waterford, Ireland

When the silence sits in
And listens to my breath,
As it rests on your cheek,
I smile.
Starry spangled shoes,
Let the night watch my steps,
I'm stepping to you, on stars.
Car headlights crash into a still pool,
Breaking it apart in many miles of smiling foolish tinkling lights, like fairies-
They're just as bright.
As bright as you.
Moonstone lavished fingers, resting on a dusky soul,
Tainted pink. Because of you.
The sweet trickle of juice from a lollipop,
Drips down kiss bled lips,
Because of you.

DREAMS
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May 14, 2017
 

Golden light surrounds your moving silhouette,
Dark, curling hair brushing your neck...
Right there, I know that's where you'll find my kiss (later of course)
We crest the hill, and there under the sun,
Lie the clearest waters, promising fun.

When I look back now, I know-that's the last day I loved you with the first of loves. Under the sun, beside the hills, on an island beside an island-in the sea.

That's where I'll find you, that's where you last knew me.

That's where we live now, that's where we live now. If you call my name, that's where I will be.
Under the sun, loving you,
There-in the sea.

ANGEL OF UNDERSTANDING
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May 8, 2017
 

The memory sticks to my skin,
A scar-paper thin,
Races up my abdomen.
It could lead to my heart,
Or to my chin,
Either way the memory,
Sticks to my skin.

You called today, after four years.
Did you expect a way in? Through my tears?
Would the salt pierce the heart, or the would the heart dissolve, as you absolve
Yourself...

Would the water envelop, or drown?

Do you know how hard it is, to love a king...
Who, long ago, lost his only crown?

The memory sticks to my skin,
A scar, paper-thin,
Races up my abdomen.
It could lead to my heart,
Or to my chin,
Either way the memory,
Sticks to my skin.

WRITE ME SOME LETTRS
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May 8, 2017
 

Eyes framed by Summer,
Hands held by Spring,
A soul as bright as the Wintering ice,
And there, in the corner of your smile-
A dimple loud and light.

Steepled trees with falling, golden, glimmering leaves,
You told me stories of fairy thieves,
Pirate Queens and Talking Bees.
These are the memories of you.
These are the moments of you-and me.

WRITE ME SOME LETTRS
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May 7, 2017
 

Flux, enigma, desire, one.
Light brightening into night,
Sun's that are stars and people that are bright.
Music, opening world's in my head that demand I write,

Flux, enigma, desire, one.
Life brightening into life,
A sun that is a star to wish on, a night that cradles the wishing-light...
Music, cradling the night,

It demands, I write,
For the bright ones.

-AshestoAshes

THE LOVE MY KICKS STAMP
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May 6, 2017
 

Wrapped in a heady, heavy cocoon.
My skin tied to its skin,
And spread just as thin.
Heavy eyes and lips like sin,
Come, taste a drop-I'm inviting you in.

Wrapped in a heady, heavy cocoon.
As the dust settles, and the bugs wander in,
Beads of sweat, sweet drops of sin,
Trail down where the earth is thin,
There-at the edge of my skin.

Wrapped in a heady, heavy cocoon.
Will you taste the time wandering off of my skin,
As the night grows thin,
And stars made of sin,
Fall out of the sky, yet come wandering in...
Into a heady, heavy cocoon.

EYE FLIRT
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May 3, 2017
 

Down in the under-stairs,
Of flickering, fleeting thoughts,
You lounge in the lobby,
Of a steadily beating heart.

What words can I say,
To make longer the day,
In which your heat bled into mine?
Your smile mirrored mine?
What words can I say,
To make longer the day,
In which your arms encircled mine?
In which your skin touched mine?

Up, in the over-stairs,
An attic, if you will,
You're steadily
Becoming memory
And my heart misses the thrill.

LUXE CHAIR
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April 30, 2017
Waterford, Ireland

"Mo Chroi, mo Anam Chara"
These are the words I write,
In a language I do not speak,
Yet, I am told:
this is the language of my blood.

"Mo Chroi, Mo Anam Chara"
How I wish I could speak,
These words,
With the fluency, they deserve.

"Mo Chroi, Mo Anam Chara"
Just like the language,
Stolen from ancient lips,
You rest in my blood,
But have refused my lips.

"Mo Chroi, Mo Anam Chara"...

-AshestoAshes

ANGEL OF AMOR
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April 28, 2017
 

Writing, for me, is like a rose.
With the seasons it either blooms or fades. The gardener may cut it back, or deciding upon a different garden design, will rid the whole patch. Just as flippantly, the next season the gardener may wish the roses back.

When I go to take it back again, I've already forgotten the beauty of writing. The rose-thorns prick unused fingers: I've forgotten what it is to hold my pen.
However, at the end of those thorns, and perhaps because of them, something beautiful blooms.

In my grandfather's garden, a rose bush that is nearly 100 years old grows. It has been part of the background of my life, and it connects the generations of my family by simply existing.
Lik...

TINY QUEEN
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April 28, 2017
 

Slowly, fingertips meet fingertips.
It begins with a light brush of minds.
Then lips, hips, and souls.
It drives deep into the heart, and like a splinter, opens cracks in a heart you thought was whole.
Breathing life into unexplored, desert spaces,
Opening doors to once empty spaces,
And there, through a window, comes the scent of coconut, freshly spun wool and heated skin.
There, in the spaces of an opening heart.

ANGEL OF PASSION
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February 13, 2017
Galway, Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

I thought of my Valentine's wish for you. I didn't hear your heart that night, I heard your soul...

Velvet skin and satin words brush against your lips, you rise up and fall. Falling into place, right there, that's it.

That's the spot where your soul settles. It breathes and lives-it loves.

Where you fall, you bed down and breathe. It's time dreamer...

Love always,
Ash

FREEDOM TAKES COURAGE (2)
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February 13, 2017
Galway, Ireland

Dear Lettrs community,

It has been a very long time since last I wrote, but lately you've been on my mind.

Thank you for being here, for sharing the words that express the meaning of your life. Now, more than ever, understanding is needed.

I'm really excited to re-explore. Sending all the best,

Aishling x

LETTRS BLACK AND WHITE
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November 6, 2015
Ireland

Here's what I love : listening to the night sounds, even if they crawl with anger...
looking out cold windows as I lay warm in bed...
You, holding me so tight, you wake me from my dreams...
Reality, pure cold, indefinite reality that is so much stranger and fantastical than fantasy... itself...
I love touch and scent.
I love taste.
music, that glides or whirls, crashes and bangs.
People, I can love...
People I can leave.
Words.
Words.
Words.
I love.

ORIGINAL
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September 28, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

What if I travel far far away...to cherry blossom streets and blue and cloudy skies. What if I fall in love with some far off place? What if the world spins, and I end on one half and you on the other? What if love never leaves us, but we leave each other? What if I love you forever? What if, what if, what if...
What if you see another smile, and love it more than mine? What if I see another life, and love it more than this?

What if, what if, what if.
What if I love you forever-and we make it through?

All my love,
Ash

ORIGINAL
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September 26, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

When things begin to circle, then criss-cross and hatch ; my neck begins to ache and my hands curl.
I wait for the peace to set in. Slowly drinking me in. It doesn't come.
And I wonder how I've lived for so long just surviving, and how that's all I seem to do...watching and waiting, weighing it all. It's heavy. It makes my neck ache and my hands curl. It's an obsession, this way of life. Obsession to protect, to keep. Obsession with threat and danger. It's so tiring sometimes...living to survive, to prove an untenable something. When life can be such a beautiful thing-I hate that I live to survive.
And then you smile.
And then the sun shines.
And just for a moment, the circle...

ORIGINAL
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September 16, 2015
Ireland

It's been a long time
ticking on the wall
since I've seen that face
watched that crawl
and even though I'm older now
much more bare and cold
I still remember that sweet touch
I still remember that sweet touch
call me by my name, and watch me disappear
into the woods of old broken fears
I wish for humanity, slicing my bones,
melancholy full and fiery truth, break-my-heart forget-me-nots and sunshine in my bed...
I am tired, and old, full but not whole...and what I remember is your sweet touch
that sweet touch

ORIGINAL
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June 25, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

Easy now...we are but flickering lights in the grand scheme...
I miss your easy smile, easy way of trusting, hoping, believing. Some flicker of a flicker of you, then, still exists.
Your mind is but a lens of you, a lens of thought guided by emotion. Can you feel anothers skin on yours? Alive, warm...breathing. Sweat, heat, softness...the scent of two-feel it, live it.
Enjoy it.
Easy now dreamer...go easy to sleep...

Love always,
Ash

AURA OF ACCEPTANCE
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June 10, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

The sun shines against my back and warms my skin. The sky is high and floating, the air is rich with the scent of freshly cut grass.
I am learning to accept the present, and whatever may come in the future. It is not an easy lesson. It is made more difficult by the cycle of my thoughts, repetitive and insistant as they are. I am learning to trust, without force...that is acceptance of one's one pace of learning I suppose...
Where to go from here? My thoughts, if ever they end, end in some drastic course of action that obliterates all that is now-so a new story may begin. Acceptance seems to be the greatest challenge I'll ever face. Accepting that it's okay to enjoy life when it...

AURA OF ACCEPTANCE
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May 30, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

I was sad to hear of the dreams you've been having lately. Little trickles of the past often creep into the subconscious.
In my chest there is a painful beating...not from my heart. It is if a bird, or butterfly is trapped right in the centre of my chest and causes my very skin to recoil-my heart to shy away.
I am scared, and angry and confused. Much like you were, once. I fly in a fantasy and forget-I forget, but the heart, and that bird-butterfly never does quite forget. To be a forgotten thing. Something replaceable. Something unnecessary. Something not good enough.
So when you reminded me of all those things I keep inside, we keep inside, the cracks opened and kept openi...

LETTRS CHALK
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May 27, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

In light of the recent referendum here, in my small country...there is a true glimpse of me that I would like to share. I am a child born out of wedlock...and maybe this will show the power of the referendum-in all aspects of Irish life.

Cornerstone preachers all dressed in beige, with sharp teeth and smiles washed away, as a little girl skips-playfully-down the road, seemingly barely aware of the load...they place...on her shoulders. Oh gold band biting finger blue, swollen flesh and duty to, a broken alter in this crowded wood. That made them better than the Lord would, that little girl and her momma could, never be quite so beige...
Magdalene lauderies.
Unmarked graves.
Cor...

WISDOM
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May 27, 2015
Dublin, Ireland

Dear lettrists,

I seem to have done quite a dangerous thing. That is to say I am on a long train journey with no pen, and no notebook. Thoughts are whirling around my head like annoying flies instead of welcome guests. I am swatting away the 'writing' thoughts and begging them to come back later! Has this ever happened to any of you?
As I return home it seems they have listened, have become silenced...I just passed a field of frozen cows and cannot help but think that is what I've done to my mind. I made it a frozen cow.

Randomly,
Ash

YELLOW ROSE
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May 18, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

The candlelight flickers under the brooding sky. The dark trees twist beneath my window and, the sea...oh the sea! It waits patiently below me to spirit me away to lands far and distant.
I grow restless. Often I look out and feel the calling of the eternal wanderer... it reminds me of my favourite poem, 'The Stolen Child'. You know this. I read it to you once...
'Come away, O human child, to the waters and the wild...'
In lands such as these it does not seem so silly or childish to believe in the Fae. There is a wildness unbroken in this place. A freedom and fearlessness to the very grass beneath my feet!
A journey is in order I think.
A journey indeed...to the west, where al...

FOSSIL
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May 14, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,
I wait patiently on this 'nothing' day. Waiting, waiting, waiting in the waiting place. I wonder about friendships, I wonder about myself. I never have been much good at reaching out in that deeper way. I wish and plead time to myself instead of spending it with others...and when I return home, I wish to rest, and simply be. Frustration, restlessness, irritation, anger-all feelings that rise with interruption until finally, my contradictory nature confounds even me. I do not reach, I realise I do not want to reach. I realise I do not love, not in the way I once did, and now lack the energy to condemn. I am me. Uncontrollably, undeniably-myself. And that person, who is me, knows ...

POLAR BEAR PEACE
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April 26, 2015
Galway, Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

Slowly the sounds of the fading spring fall. I wonder what sound falling cherry blossoms would make...perhaps they would sound as soft bells, or sweet laughter hitting the sore and tired ear. Do you remember picking wildflowers in the sun? I can no longer remember when or why we did. I can remember the soft stems that I pulled from the roots, the warm sun and cold biting breeze...I can hear laughter, too. These things I remember, are they the fading sounds of spring? Is that why I think of them, and you now?

love always,
Ash

FOSSIL
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April 24, 2015
Ireland

Dear Dreamer,

The air breathes steadily today. The clouds are thick and refuse to show one drop of blue. All the colours that burst, are sleeping, resting in lullaby and calling me to sleep too. It is a 'nothing' day. Time has stopped, in no bad way...it has simply ceased. It seems all the world is contained in this little corner...it seems all the world is resting, where the air breathes steadily, and clouds are thick.
If only that were true.

Love always,
Ash.

MOTHER'S JOY
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