Ashley Harris

To breathe….to exist….to affirm….the list goes on and on. But now in my first year of retirement from a wonderful (albeit hectic!) career in public relations and marketing, I am loving the opportunity to enhance my life through the exploration of poetry.

I live an ordinary life by most people’s standards. On any given day you’ll find me gardening, making jam, or just simply dreaming in my hammock swing. I write poetry because it gives me the chance to explore the mysteries of the little things and express gratitude for the profound joy they give me. It has also helped me in other writing that I do, especially short fiction.

A dear friend shared with me a fabulous newsletter called Brain Pickings, edited by Maria Popova, which recently revealed a treasure trove of wisdom by the fearlessly unconventional E.E. Cummings. In giving advice to a young poet, he said: “A lot of people think or believe or know they feel — but that’s thinking or believing or knowing; not feeling. And poetry is feeling — not knowing or believing or thinking.”

Over the coming weeks, I hope to share more of my regular efforts to capture poetry of the moment, poetry focused on feelings, rather than of a particular belief or knowledge. We’ll start with one from last spring, slightly edited since it originally appeared in the April 2017 30/30 Poetry Project sponsored by Tupelo Press.

Afternoon on Whale Tail Road

Why, when looking down from the deck
at the dandelion tufts in the yard
the arabesque of the mulberry
stealing sun from the fig
and the cats lolling on laundry
blown off the line, does it feel
it would be a shame
to change anything?

You’ll be glad to know that since retiring from my work in public relations at UNC, I’ve decided to devote my time to writing. Serious writing. The highfalutin kind.

My short-short story, “To-Do List of a First-Time Teleworker,” published in this month’s edition of Carolina Woman, is evidence of this. It is a genuine account of the dangers of teleworking, so please beware!

And now, I turn to poetry, a medium which should be used only to address life’s most serious questions. Today we cover a recent transgression of the highest order that occurred at home. All we know for sure was that Johnny’s sausage biscuit disappeared from the counter. Warning! This isn’t your usual whodunnit. It’s a whodoggit.

The Great Biscuit Caper

The setting? Breakfast time!
Let’s set the caper to rhyme.
Who would dare to risk it?
Who would snatch a biscuit?
We must reenact the crime!

The short one had crumbs on his snout!
But he did not act alone, no doubt
He had a taller accomplice….
with a reputation far from spotless
Next time we’ll dine in, not out!

Now that you’ve seen the evidence, who do you think is to blame? If you have a dog at home, I think you’ll understand!

A long commute can be grueling, especially after a full day at work, but there has always been something special about the morning drive. I feel as if, like Francois Cheng (the Asian-French poet-philosopher) once said, “We are always at the morning of the world.”

The drive along U.S. 64 from Asheboro to Chapel Hill is my inspiration for Poem #28.

To catch up on my progress, I hope you’ll breeze through the daily list to read the poems posted so far. Just two more to go!

If you love poetry, I hope you’ll consider supporting a poet this month. Scroll  down read my work (and those of the other poets) if you can, and consider supporting me with a small donation. Supportive comments on this blog are also very welcome because they inspire me to keep going!

Many, many thanks to all of you have contributed to the cause so far — either through a monetary donation or moral support, which are equally valuable.

Please know that your contributions are going to a great cause. Tupelo Press is a prestigious non-profit press, and for 17 years their mission has been to publish new voices. They are giving my work some exposure, and bringing me into a community of over 350 alumni helping each other publish our work.