Ashley H

My Portfolio
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More About Me

What I want you to know about me...

I am me; a sum of my past experiences and future potential. I cannot be put into words yet aspects of me can be captured by them. I change and grow as often as I breathe. I learn, I love, I lose, I heal and I make mistakes just like every human being does.
So long story short I am just like you only I am me
My preconceived opinion of you is...
You are a light in any darkness. Do not dim yourself. Do not let yourself go out. Shine! Shine as brightly as you can. Illuminate those around you. Illuminate the room. Illuminate the world.
just so you know what you are in for ;)
Also I have published a book. It is a collection of poetry artistically laid out on photographs taken by me. It is rather different than reading my work on here as the poems are ordered to set a mood and take you though an emotional journey, the photos enhance the poems and give them a context. If you are interested at all you can message me.
Help fight plagiarism....I hold the copy write for all works posted by me on my page, please ask before copying, in whole or part, my poetical works, or anyone else on the site's for that matter...thank you :) keep being awesome!

About My Navel

It looks very much like the, healed over, stumped end of a tube where I use to find nurisment

Favorite Stuff (poets, poems, quotes, hobbies, etc.)

"They shouldn't call it writer’s block. They should call it writer’s-brick-wall-all-up-in-your-face, because that’s what it feels like."
- Farhin Kermally
Elizabeth Gilbert said this during her ted talk about Ruth Stone (American Poet), and for me I think that it sums up exactly what being creative feels like
"As [Stone] was growing up in rural Virginia, she would be out, working in the fields and she would feel and hear a poem coming at her from over the landscape. It was like a thunderous train of air and it would come barrelling down at her over the landscape. And when she felt it coming...cause it would shake the earth under her feet, she knew she had only one thing to do at that point. That was to, in her words, "run like hell" to the house as she would be chased by this poem.
The whole deal was that she had to get to a piece of paper fast enough so that when it thundered through her, she could collect it and grab it on the page. Other times she wouldn't be fast enough, so she would be running and running, and she wouldn't get to the house, and the poem would barrel through her and she would miss it, and it would "continue on across the landscape looking for another poet".
And then there were these times, there were moments where she would almost miss it. She is running to the house and is looking for the paper and the poem passes through her. She grabs a pencil just as it's going through her and she would reach out with her other hand and she would catch it. She would catch the poem by its tail and she would pull it backwards into her body as she was transcribing on the page. In those instances, the poem would come up on the page perfect and intact, but backwards, from the last word to the first."


Member for
21 years 47 weeks