Little Girl Buried in Rum Keg

Posted on by Ashley Harris

It’s a snow weekend, so while my fellow writers may be waxing about the icy stuff, the white glare outside my window takes me somewhere else entirely. Somewhere warmer! Over Thanksgiving, Johnpaul and I traveled to Atlantic Beach and took a side trip to Beaufort, where we walked through The Old Burying Ground. Here we found the saddest grave, that of a little girl buried in a rum keg. Ever seen it? What’s most provocative are the pop culture relics surrounding the final resting place of a little girl who wouldn’t have known what to do with Air Heads candy or or lip gloss from Bath and Body.

girl_in_a_rum-keg.jpg

 

 

A Magical Evening with Billy Collins

Posted on by Ashley Harris
Ashley Memory and Billy Collins
Posing for a picture with the delightful Mr. Collins

On Thursday, Jan. 27, I had the honor of hearing America’s most beloved poet, Mr. Billy Collins, give a reading at Swasey Chapel at Denison University in Granville, OH. I am forever grateful to my dear friend Jen Kretchmar (who so generously drove 7 and a half hours each way) and her brother Matt (a professor at Denison) who helped make my dream come true.

Truly I hesitated to blog about this experience so soon because I am still rather starstruck and I worry about my powers of expression in my current state. For the sake of my fellow writers, who surely understand, I will do my best.

To a packed audience, Billy read some of my most favorite poems, including “The Revenant,” “Litany,” “Why I Don’t Own a Gun,” “Suggestion Box,” “Nostalgia,” and “To My Favorite 17-Year Old High School Girl.” And while I know that a poet writes for the reader who will most likely read the poem in solitude (which has its own delights) I have to admit that there is indeed something special about hearing the words spoken by the man who wrote them — his own particular voice, his own particular cadence, and his own particular rhythm.

All of this I was lucky enough to hear from the second row — and to dream that that mellifluous voice was meant for me alone but the experience was capped off by the opportunity to chat with my idol at the reception. I wish that the world’s most witty words would have graced my lips and that I could have told him that I too, adore Nabokov, that I’ve known what it’s like to have to deliver a beloved pet to the “needle of oblivion” and to ask him questions about the craft but all I could do was speak from the heart. And I have tears in my eyes even today. “Mr. Collins,” I said, “I cannot tell you how much joy your words have brought to my life.”

The more cynical (me among them) are justified to think that I’m sure he’s heard that before but…he was incredibly gracious and appeared honored to have heard it yet again. I have read an interview where he humbly said that meeting an author may be one of life’s most disappointing experiences and that between the poet and the man he believes the poet might be the better of him but I have to disagree on all counts. I was not disappointed and I can verify that the man lived up to the image I had of the poet. Sadly, however, he told me that a visit to North Carolina didn’t appear to be on his docket any time soon.

I then queued up with the other faithful pilgrims–the college students and the locals–to have our books signed. Jen (whom he kindly acknowledged by saying “I suppose this is THE friend”) snapped our picture and then he blessed my dog-eared copy of Aimless Love with his signature. His parting words were the most magical of all so this is where I will end my recap.

“North Carolina, you say,” he said, with a mischievous light in his eyes. “Well, well. You never know.”

New Poetry Prompt – Fun with Random Phrases!

Posted on by Ashley Harris

Seeking a new creative writing prompt? Here is a prompt I discovered for poetry but can be easily used for fiction as well. Within the course of a single day, simply make note of 5 random phrases — either overheard directly by you or contributed by friends, preferably not from movies or TV.  A poem or story devised around little snippets of the real world around you results in fresh and unusual word combinations. It’s also unbelievably fun.

Hint: It helps to start with at least a rough idea of some sort of action, if not a story, and as in the case of my poem, it can be lifted from reality or imagination. I think you’ll find that the “random” phrases you use will spark your imagination in many directions!

Let’s look at an example. Here is one I wrote last week with 5 phrases that came my way. At the very end you will see a “key” for the source of the phrases.

I Write the Book You Play the Fiddle

Do you ever close your eyes and draw
your finger down a state map—
any state but yours—and land
on a town with a name that sounds
a lot like a town in your state
say
 Jonesville or something like that
and wonder
 if the people in that Jonesville
are anything like 
the people in your Jonesville
and then 
imagine yourself strolling
down their
 Main Street and going into
a coffee shop only to
 hear those people say
things like not
 my circus, not my monkeys
or I write the book you play the fiddle,
and that’s a separate conversation
 and
looking up at you like they know you
and having the waitress slide you a latte
just the way you like it with the cream
so high you have to swirl it before
you take a sip and
 then seeing the old man
who looks just like your grandpa pat
the seat beside him and tell you
the people in this place are as thick
as the hair on a dog’s back and you
not knowing whether that’s a good thing
or a bad thing but because everyone laughs
you decide it’s a good thing and the next
thing
 you know it’s getting late so you say
See you tomorrow to your new friends
but add maybe because you’re not sure
how
 you got here in the first place?

####

I write the book you play the fiddle — conversation overheard by Ashley between two students at Lenoir Dining Hall at UNC
not my circus, not my monkeys – Melissa K., a co-worker
that’s a separate conversation – Melissa K.
people in here as as thick as the hair on a dog’s back – Brian W., another co-worker
See you tomorrow maybe – overheard by my son on a NYC subway

How to See a Ghost

Posted on by Ashley Harris

Having just returned from an amazing trip to Ireland with my father, I can report that this beautiful gem of an island is indeed haunted. Haunted with ghosts you don’t need to see to know that they are there. As the victim of countless sieges, plunders, and atrocities—from the Vikings to the Anglo-Normans to the forces of Cromwell—in Ireland the ruins of fortifications abound. It is home to more than 3,500 castles in varying stages of decline. There are also thousands of abbeys and churches, many of them now in shambles, but even some of these ended up being fortified, with castellated presbyteries, towers, and stone wall enclosures.

As a writer, I prefer the ruins to the structures that have been shorn up and refurbished because these gently worn skeletons leave plenty of room for the imagination. Especially under a moody sky that will drop a gentle mist of rain to be shortly followed by sunshine, which reflects back on the dewy grass, hence the nickname, The Emerald Isle.

We spent 3 nights in Dublin but I have to say that my favorite part of the trip was the four days we spent in the counties of Kilkenny and Tipperary.

jerpoint

We spent 3 nights in a bed and breakfast in Thomastown in County Kilkenny directly across from the ruins of Jerpoint Abbey.

The B & B itself was situated by a stream and the ruins of a 13th century mill and the view to the Abbey (from the front yard, left) was spectacular.

Originally founded as a 12th-century Cistercian abbey, what you see today came from the 15th and 16th centuries, although there are many examples of beautiful stone carvings from the earlier period, especially the cloister garden.

In Ireland I had many wonderful adventures, from the people we met to yes, the history, that inspired the writer in me. I look forward to sharing these with you in the coming weeks.

I came back from Ireland to learn that my poem, ironically enough, “How to See a Ghost” won second place in the 2014 INDY Week’s annual poetry contest. The ghost in this poem was not inspired by Ireland, but fair warning, I expect many more poems to follow. Since falling in love with poetry late last year, I can’t help wondering just what have I missed out on all these years…

I’ll read “How to See a Ghost” with Jeffrey Beam, the judge, and the other winners on May 6 at 7 p.m. at a special reading at Letters Bookstore in Durham. Hope to see you there!