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Sarah Jean Ashby Nov 2012
I fear that winter break won't be the only cold front that I face
The holidays will roll around and you will still need more space
I fear that it's not what you say, but what you don't
That is truly telling.

I look at your face. It's not the same
There's a certain kind of love that's missing
What do you do when your one best friend is the one person you can't talk to?
Jesus! All you ever say is, "I'm sorry..." & "Time helps"
And my favorite, "We'll still be great friends, Ashby"

You're such a terrible friend
Your advice is lacking any empathy
And your care is nonexistant.
If we don't have love
And we don't have friendship
What do we have left?
I'm terrified to ask such a question.

I've been doing my part fine
I've been staying in the lines
That go against every fiber of my being
I don't know what to think anymore
Except that you want nothing more
From me.

You don't want us
You don't want we
You just want you...
And me.

I just want answers to questions I've already asked
Shaken off and given little thought
You say you just want what's best
For me
But what I really think
Is that you are a coward.
You're too afraid to be the ******* in this relationship.
But guess what?
You already are.
Ehhh not my best work. But necessary to get out some feelings.
Topher Green Jan 2011
Shady streets of Shattuck
and Telegraph, home to ever-present
drifters and hep, and ever-present woe
won't you sing beneath the stars and traffic lights?
for whether or not dawn is breeching, the moon
like a jealous sibling in cosmic conflict.
We need another glass
I fill mine with the good stuff
with a splash and to ignite a crutch
so that we might have pillows like  
clouds of smoke to rest our restless, gaping,
restless, wicked, pinned pupils, we make
our own boundaries, our own expectations, which,
in and of themselves are beautiful articulations of
day by day. This moment we wave goodbye.
Spitting out ill-gotten thoughts, unfiltered
with hope and prayer that in the morning
we will be back at the old familiar station
dripping with contentment and familiar
that home is right under our feet. The Bart,
more like a vessel than I have ever known
who makes voyages feel like calmly strolls
through parks which lead us to  San Leandro
to Oakland, to Daly City, to Ashby and Fremont
tasting and smelling home when we reach old San Jose
upon another transit that sways all the way
to Santa Cruz to home and relief, and the load lessens
to a stop, although I truly feel we've started over
to begin, although the bright, bright lights blink
off and on for me as we stray homeward, as if to say
"We will see."
The Forester King (The Legend of Robin Hood)

Twas but merely a hundred years
Harold with splintered eye, wept blood, not tears
William The Conqueror of Normandy, had battles won
As old Saxon Danes were badly out-done
Their fight for survival, had just begun

Enslaved by Norman Earls, Barons and Knights
After the death of Hereward The Wake, in fights
The Saxons were treated simply as serfs
Diminished in strength, morale and nerves
Their courage was now on its final reserves

Like Romeo and Juliet, two lovers barely met at all
Joanna, daughter to Saxon Sir George of Gamwell Hall
And William Fitzooth, son to the Norman Baron of Kyme
Joannas father, saw their union as a crime
Yet it was to late, to prevent love in its prime

They married in secret, soon producing a son
Yet presently were left with nowhere to run
Soon, Sir George had tracked the eloping lovers
In Sherwood Forest, was soon to discover
His daughter, as a married maternal mother

Bursting with forgiveness and new-found proud
Stood proud, as his grandson lay peacefully at his side
Sir George, forgotten now his anger of before
This was the birth of 'Robins Lore'
To take from the rich, and give to the poor

Richard the First, came to the throne
Bishop Ely ruled, whilst the 'Lionheart' was gone
On various campaigns
Whereupon many an enemy was slain
Richard the cause of his enemies bane

The kings evil brother John, without just reason
Accused Bishop Ely, of treason
This 'Sceptered Isle' now without a crown jewel
As John, became the Prince of mis-rule
A man savage, selfish, wicked and cruel

He appointed Sheriffs to keep good order
At a price, they would soon turn marauder
One became Sheriff of Nottingham, by the Forest of Sherwood
And thus heard tell of Robert Fitzooth, the Earl of Huntingdons' good
That the Earl, was in fact, Robin Hood

Earl Robert, was to be married on the morrow
To Lady Marian Fitzwalter, his heart to bestow
On the eve of this merry event
A feast at Locksley Hall was meant
Disguised, the Prince attended, John the miscreant

Sir Guy of Gisbourne, in the name of Prince, and falsely of king
Before the final vows, were about to begin
Declared the Earl of Huntingdon, an outlaw in truth
Was also Robin Hood, as well as Robert Fitzooth
By his own confession, there-in lay the proof

Maid Marian, to Arlington Castle, went she
To reside with her father, for security
Robin meanwhile, rode to the green wood, with arrows and swords
To await the Lionhearts return, from his fighting abroad
No longer then, would Robin be outlawed

He sought justice, and an end to discords
Caused by the cruelty of Barons, Bishops, Sheriffs and Lords
A plain yeoman of Locksley, now was he
He suffered not, from false vanity
Yet men of Lincoln Green, elected him king of Sherwood Forestry

From Sherwood Forest, Robin continued the fight
To protect the innocent, and defend what was right
Alongside him, a loyal band of warriors brave
Such as Little Jon Naylor, so skilled with a stave
Would willingly fight Prince John, or any other knave

Robins laws, were moral and well refined
To aid those whom suffered cruelties, so unkind
His men were sworn, to fight for the good
to help the poor, orphans, and in widowhood
And to swear to harm no woman, no matter whose side she stood

The day cane for Robin and his men to part
Upon the brief return of King Richard The Lionheart
He joined Robin and Marian, thus they were wed
Within a few hours the Lionheart lay dead
Prince John became king, and after Robins head

Yet Robin in disbelief, ignored the warning
Unsure of whether, he should be in mourning
Little John, oft warned Robin, of the vengeful King John
Aware of the fact, that Richard was gone
With the help of the Sheriff, on Robin they were to set upon

By the time Robin realised the reality of it all
He was entombed in a turret encompessed by a wall
Luckily a rusted window bar came loose, a hundred feet from ground
He blew his bugle horn (won at Ashby-de-la-zouch) Little John echoed his sound
Thus Robin escaped, badly injured, was for Scarborough Fair bound

After a brief adventure, and fighting pirates at sea
(During which time he used a pseudonym of fisherman Simon Lee)
Robin joined Marian and Little John at Kirkleys Nunnery
The Prioress, Robins own aunt, agreed he should be bled
Treacherously, after his fortune, she wanted him dead
He was finally buried, where an arrow fell, fired from his death bed.
Raven Black Apr 2014
Selife, Skype, Of Mice & Men, and so much more.
Those are a few things to describe my sister,
We're weird crazy and funny,
Always obsessing over our favorite bands.

She's always there to pick me back up,
When I manage to fall on my face,
If I don't think I can manage,
She's the force that slaps me across the face,
Making me snap out of it.

Music is my calling,
She's known that since the beginning,
She always hears me singing,
And tells me that I will be able to get where I want to go.

She's the Alan Ashby to my Austin Carlile,
The Alex Gaskarth to my Jack Barakat,
The Kellin Quinn to my Vic Fuentes.

Other people might not get what I'm about,
But I know she'll always be there when I want to throw myself off a bridge.
When the lyrics I want to write just won't come.

No matter how many boys break my heart,
Or how many labels turn me down,
She's always going to be right by my side,
To turn that frown around,
And push me towards the finish line.

There's no one quite like my sister,
And I hope she knows,
That I wouldn't have made it this far,
Without her.
NeroameeAlucard Mar 2015
Whether it's poetry from the streets or the stuff written in limericks on parchment sheets there's no denying that when a poetic Homosapien sets the mind to rhyming our brain patterns are odd because we use our pens to stitch up and heal our scars because we are poets. Our minds don't function like the rest of the world and in this verse it kept me from ending up in the back of a hearse whether by my own doing or because of this world's curse

But if course I care about the people that have influenced or helped me to become better, Midnight Writer I'm not just vintage I adapt to all weather, Miss Hillzy and Reamer, Queen, Aurora, Joana Ashby Drsjoke and blue star♥ Antipodean Product I love you guys and I hope page abuse carries us far

and from hello poetry Wolf Spirit, lady death and many many others I love all of you from the bottom of my twisted heart I hope that our union of words shall never break apart.
To everyone I mentioned here I love all of you and wish you nothing but amazingness!
Neville Johnson Nov 2020
Heather is a new arrival in the city of LA
She gets a job at the library
Meager is the pay
She’s trying to be happy
Finding her way
Hoping for love and a baby someday

Nick is new to LA too
He’s in from Edinburgh
Here for three months to do a book on Hal Ashby
Whose papers are stored at the library where Heather works
He is there every day
She helps him find documents and decipher Ashby’s scrawl
They become secret friends
Eating lunch together on a bench nearby

One thing led to another
They begin to hang out
From Venice to hikes in Will Rogers Park
But Heather worries
Is Nick too young?
If the difference is more than 10 years, she tells herself it must be wrong
She learns Nick is 24 to her 37
She is resigned to the fact that this romance cannot go on
Nick returns to Scotland despite their bond

There’s a rendezvous in New York
But ultimately they're resigned to their fate
It won’t work even though it’s been great

Heather drops him an email
Which led to a phone call
Nick says he wants to visit her
But Heather says no
She needs commitment
Surely, that he must know

Here’s the surprise for Nick replies
He wants to live with her
Their future relies on their love
Their love never dies
They are 13 years married with a kid of 10
Today they are showing her the library where they met
Where it all began

— The End —