By Ashley Crisp
To Ryan Grazulis, on his 23rd Birthday
It’s not every day that a
Birthday falls on 11/11/11
Only for a special someone and
That special someone is you.
A man who cares for me
When I’m sad and
Lifts me up when I am down and
Encourages me to get back up to succeed.
A man who puts me first and
Makes me feel like I am the only person
In a crowded room and
Constantly makes me feel pretty.
A man who’s laughing
Blue eyes I could
Dream about every night and know I’m the
Lucky girl who is the glimmer in them.
Thank you for making my life beautiful and
Filling it full of love and support
While this year is extra special
Every year with you remains golden.
I love you always and forever.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Life is No Monet
By Ashley Crisp
Lilly pads float
seamlessly upon the brisk pond.
Bashful pink flowers
emerge from their center.
Pastel blues and greens
dance across the canvas,
blending the paints together.
Strokes of the brush
create a scene where
viewers wish to escape reality,
to a land of Easter colors,
where skies are never grey,
and it’s spring year round.
There’s never harsh winter
snow to freeze our lives,
but ice rain pours when
we are content,
turning our once vibrant lilies to
brown, rotting paper bags.
Lilly pads float
seamlessly upon the brisk pond.
Bashful pink flowers
emerge from their center.
Pastel blues and greens
dance across the canvas,
blending the paints together.
Strokes of the brush
create a scene where
viewers wish to escape reality,
to a land of Easter colors,
where skies are never grey,
and it’s spring year round.
There’s never harsh winter
snow to freeze our lives,
but ice rain pours when
we are content,
turning our once vibrant lilies to
brown, rotting paper bags.
Cyber Space
By Ashley Crisp
Fingers punch the
keypad viciously.
Your emotionless face
hiding behind the computer screen.
Instead of punching and
kicking your,
weapons are cuss words,
digs,
low blows,
cowardly words of hate,
hidden behind technology.
The tears
depression and
anxiety of
unsuspecting victims
pass through your conscience,
absent of compassion.
As your thumb
smashes enter a
grinchly smirk
curls at the corners of your
chafed mouth.
Harming others is the only
solution for you to
maintain high self-esteem.
Unfortunately you can't
hide forever behind the keys.
Fingers punch the
keypad viciously.
Your emotionless face
hiding behind the computer screen.
Instead of punching and
kicking your,
weapons are cuss words,
digs,
low blows,
cowardly words of hate,
hidden behind technology.
The tears
depression and
anxiety of
unsuspecting victims
pass through your conscience,
absent of compassion.
As your thumb
smashes enter a
grinchly smirk
curls at the corners of your
chafed mouth.
Harming others is the only
solution for you to
maintain high self-esteem.
Unfortunately you can't
hide forever behind the keys.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
A Flash Back Through Innocent Eyes
It's 3 am
the constant clangor
of the phone is routine.
Mom laments to Dad
with a sniffle
here and there.
She needs us to rescue her.
My brother and I awake
from our bunk bed.
I grab
my brown blanky
the only solace
in this time of confusion.
I slip on
my velcro light up shoes and
dart out the screen door
into our blue Ford Aero Star.
Half asleep I watch
Dad's vigilant, yet somber expressions
through the front mirror.
He catches my glimpse and
slips a grin to reassure me
everything is ok.
We get to downtown Canton and
veer into the desolate
Save-a-Lot parking space.
From the horizon
Mom staggers to our mini van.
Sliding doors swing open and
hard vodka accompanied by
mossy Jon Tu' perfume
converge into the frigid air.
A brown bag partnered with a
plastic Speedway cup
Retain her jaundice hands.
A marble of black and blue
paint tragedy across her canvas.
Although I am only six
I know my mother has a problem.
the constant clangor
of the phone is routine.
Mom laments to Dad
with a sniffle
here and there.
She needs us to rescue her.
My brother and I awake
from our bunk bed.
I grab
my brown blanky
the only solace
in this time of confusion.
I slip on
my velcro light up shoes and
dart out the screen door
into our blue Ford Aero Star.
Half asleep I watch
Dad's vigilant, yet somber expressions
through the front mirror.
He catches my glimpse and
slips a grin to reassure me
everything is ok.
We get to downtown Canton and
veer into the desolate
Save-a-Lot parking space.
From the horizon
Mom staggers to our mini van.
Sliding doors swing open and
hard vodka accompanied by
mossy Jon Tu' perfume
converge into the frigid air.
A brown bag partnered with a
plastic Speedway cup
Retain her jaundice hands.
A marble of black and blue
paint tragedy across her canvas.
Although I am only six
I know my mother has a problem.
Grandma Z.
By Ashley Crisp
You were always there
to take care of me
when Mom was gone.
Your house became my home:
Fixing my hair before
school in the morning,
and hearing my rants and raves
about the lumps after
you’ve finished my braids.
Every Thursday taking Dennis and I
to McDonalds before your
Tops meetings.
Running to pick me up
from school when I was
claiming to have swine flu.
Coaxing me on the phone
when I am sobbing over ex-boyfriends,
always telling me the right words.
You are the only one who
handles me when I’m
sad,
happy,
mad,
or just lonely.
No one could ever take
your place in my heart.
Who says Grandma's can't be mothers too?
You were always there
to take care of me
when Mom was gone.
Your house became my home:
Fixing my hair before
school in the morning,
and hearing my rants and raves
about the lumps after
you’ve finished my braids.
Every Thursday taking Dennis and I
to McDonalds before your
Tops meetings.
Running to pick me up
from school when I was
claiming to have swine flu.
Coaxing me on the phone
when I am sobbing over ex-boyfriends,
always telling me the right words.
You are the only one who
handles me when I’m
sad,
happy,
mad,
or just lonely.
No one could ever take
your place in my heart.
Who says Grandma's can't be mothers too?
Venus of Willendorf
By Ashley Crisp
Curvaceous limestone
Lumpy to the touch
Wet earth
Protruding breasts
Sagging to the bellybutton
Thick hips
Made for childbearing
Bootylicious
Representation of Fertility
Sacred vessel
Mysterious purpose
She is what you want her to be
Whether it be to worship
Or envy.
Curvaceous limestone
Lumpy to the touch
Wet earth
Protruding breasts
Sagging to the bellybutton
Thick hips
Made for childbearing
Bootylicious
Representation of Fertility
Sacred vessel
Mysterious purpose
She is what you want her to be
Whether it be to worship
Or envy.
Cravings
By Ashley Crisp
You tempt me
in the wee hours of the night.
My taste buds tingle for
a smidge of you,
caressing against my tongue.
Each time I pass you,
I must fight the urge
and resist temptation.
Eventually,
I fall victim to your spell,
smash open the fridge door,
rip you from the container,
scooping you into the bowl.
Mint and dark chocolate morsels
journey through the air
as I lift you into my mouth.
After digesting this delicious treat,
I hit the treadmill,
feeling guilty for
devouring all 450 calories.
You tempt me
in the wee hours of the night.
My taste buds tingle for
a smidge of you,
caressing against my tongue.
Each time I pass you,
I must fight the urge
and resist temptation.
Eventually,
I fall victim to your spell,
smash open the fridge door,
rip you from the container,
scooping you into the bowl.
Mint and dark chocolate morsels
journey through the air
as I lift you into my mouth.
After digesting this delicious treat,
I hit the treadmill,
feeling guilty for
devouring all 450 calories.
New York City Ritz
By Ashley Crisp
Pay day was last Friday
558 dollars and 89 cents
A white, wrinkled man
Wearing a tethered red flannel shirt
Holds out a rusty soup can
Rotten cabbage and perch
Encompass the surrounding city air
In China town
He begs for money
I say yes
Thank god all I have is a crisp five.
Walking along the
Trash infested alley
I scuff my new Louis Vuitton pumps
Worth more than three pay checks
Should have kept that five
Flagging down a taxi
To take me to Trump tower
I nervously check my eye liner
In my zebra print compact
Tonight has got to be the night
I say yes
I hope my dress looks ok.
Anticipating dinner
I waltz into the restaurant
He sits wearing a pin stripe Armani
Hair slicked back with gel
Cautiously taking a seat
Our eyes meet
His hands gingerly reach into
The front pocket of his suit and
A satin black box is pulled out
Inside shines 2 carat diamond stud earrings
Damn this isn’t an engagement ring!
He asks if I love the jewelry
I say yes
My mind screams no.
Pay day was last Friday
558 dollars and 89 cents
A white, wrinkled man
Wearing a tethered red flannel shirt
Holds out a rusty soup can
Rotten cabbage and perch
Encompass the surrounding city air
In China town
He begs for money
I say yes
Thank god all I have is a crisp five.
Walking along the
Trash infested alley
I scuff my new Louis Vuitton pumps
Worth more than three pay checks
Should have kept that five
Flagging down a taxi
To take me to Trump tower
I nervously check my eye liner
In my zebra print compact
Tonight has got to be the night
I say yes
I hope my dress looks ok.
Anticipating dinner
I waltz into the restaurant
He sits wearing a pin stripe Armani
Hair slicked back with gel
Cautiously taking a seat
Our eyes meet
His hands gingerly reach into
The front pocket of his suit and
A satin black box is pulled out
Inside shines 2 carat diamond stud earrings
Damn this isn’t an engagement ring!
He asks if I love the jewelry
I say yes
My mind screams no.
Mom
By Ashley Crisp
I long for the way you laugh
Dimples curling at the sides
Of your cranberry glossed mouth
Platinum curls framing your face
Bronze shimmer reflecting off skin
Flowers breezing through the room
As you came to wrap your arms around me.
I even miss the plastic Marathon mug
Always cupped around your fingers
Filled with sprite and vodka
Passing out on the couch in the middle
Of Pocahontas singing,
“Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?”
I would give anything for the
Jingling of a random phone call
Exclaiming I would get to see you
Even if I squatted in front of the window
Peering all day never seeing your rusty, tan
Cadillac pull into the drive
At least you would be alive
So I could hope that someday
You would get better and
Be sober enough
To take me dress shopping
And sample red velvet cake
Topped with cream cheese frosting.
For now I will settle for
Our dream meetings
Where we can float above all
The pain of the past
On clouds and have the relationship
We never had the chance to experience
Then I can envision you lighting
The unity candle at my wedding.
I long for the way you laugh
Dimples curling at the sides
Of your cranberry glossed mouth
Platinum curls framing your face
Bronze shimmer reflecting off skin
Flowers breezing through the room
As you came to wrap your arms around me.
I even miss the plastic Marathon mug
Always cupped around your fingers
Filled with sprite and vodka
Passing out on the couch in the middle
Of Pocahontas singing,
“Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?”
I would give anything for the
Jingling of a random phone call
Exclaiming I would get to see you
Even if I squatted in front of the window
Peering all day never seeing your rusty, tan
Cadillac pull into the drive
At least you would be alive
So I could hope that someday
You would get better and
Be sober enough
To take me dress shopping
And sample red velvet cake
Topped with cream cheese frosting.
For now I will settle for
Our dream meetings
Where we can float above all
The pain of the past
On clouds and have the relationship
We never had the chance to experience
Then I can envision you lighting
The unity candle at my wedding.
A Busy Night of Retail
By Ashley Crisp
Fitting rooms full of clothes hangers tangle like vines in a tropical rainforest. If only I could run behind palm leaves and hide from bitchy customers who complain about wrinkles in their already ruffled dresses. A young girl comes in the glass doors as the chime dings. She approaches the front desk to ask for an application. I want to tell her run for the hills and never return, but I hand her the form. She looks up at me confused as if I have a booger on my nose. The girl returns the application. I skim through it and think it looks empty. I take it to my manager and say puzzled, “She forgot to fill out her education in the middle section.” My manager looks up at me and says cheerfully, “This is a credit card application and the ‘education’ section says cosigner.”
Fitting rooms full of clothes hangers tangle like vines in a tropical rainforest. If only I could run behind palm leaves and hide from bitchy customers who complain about wrinkles in their already ruffled dresses. A young girl comes in the glass doors as the chime dings. She approaches the front desk to ask for an application. I want to tell her run for the hills and never return, but I hand her the form. She looks up at me confused as if I have a booger on my nose. The girl returns the application. I skim through it and think it looks empty. I take it to my manager and say puzzled, “She forgot to fill out her education in the middle section.” My manager looks up at me and says cheerfully, “This is a credit card application and the ‘education’ section says cosigner.”
Morning Class
By Ashley Crisp
Buzzing at 6 am
Eyelids flicker
Punch the snooze
ZZZ
Eyelids flicker
Rolling around in tangled sheets
ZZZ
One more minute
Rolling around in tangled sheets
Downy softener captivates me
One more minute
Spring to the floor
Buzzing at 6 am
Eyelids flicker
Punch the snooze
ZZZ
Eyelids flicker
Rolling around in tangled sheets
ZZZ
One more minute
Rolling around in tangled sheets
Downy softener captivates me
One more minute
Spring to the floor
Baby Blues
By Ashley Crisp
My hair tangled with pine needles
Finger nails dug into the musty earth
A voice lingering
To escape through
Maybelline smeared lips
Mascara trickling down ghostly cheeks
Grunts and moans drowned out my sobs
As he buried himself inside me.
I sit in the baby blue waiting room
Nervously tapping my pumas
Scuffing the marble tile
Robin Mead babbles about heart disease on
The Accent Health channel
Formaldehyde and chlorine trickle up my nostrils
Uneasy pits in my stomach warn me that the
Nurse will call my name.
I never expected to love
This jelly bean in my tummy
Created out of disgust
Torture
Rising from the chair
I run through the linoleum doors
It is my right to choose.
My hair tangled with pine needles
Finger nails dug into the musty earth
A voice lingering
To escape through
Maybelline smeared lips
Mascara trickling down ghostly cheeks
Grunts and moans drowned out my sobs
As he buried himself inside me.
I sit in the baby blue waiting room
Nervously tapping my pumas
Scuffing the marble tile
Robin Mead babbles about heart disease on
The Accent Health channel
Formaldehyde and chlorine trickle up my nostrils
Uneasy pits in my stomach warn me that the
Nurse will call my name.
I never expected to love
This jelly bean in my tummy
Created out of disgust
Torture
Rising from the chair
I run through the linoleum doors
It is my right to choose.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Behind Me
I stand patiently in line at Giant Eagle
Behind me is a gray, withered woman
Holding nothing but earl grey tea
I gingerly let her pass in front of me.
I drive to work soon after
A blue Trailblazer flashes its left blinker
They quickly need to pass into my lane
I let them squeeze in front of me.
I stand helplessly behind the cash register
A washed out woman is craddling a whinning infant
She hands me a wad of money
But is ten cents short
I grab a dime from the tin cup and place it
in the drawer in front of me.
I take the world's negativity and place it behind me.
Behind me is a gray, withered woman
Holding nothing but earl grey tea
I gingerly let her pass in front of me.
I drive to work soon after
A blue Trailblazer flashes its left blinker
They quickly need to pass into my lane
I let them squeeze in front of me.
I stand helplessly behind the cash register
A washed out woman is craddling a whinning infant
She hands me a wad of money
But is ten cents short
I grab a dime from the tin cup and place it
in the drawer in front of me.
I take the world's negativity and place it behind me.
Cupcakes and Cigarettes
I will never forget
the magical memories
of playing My Little Pony
with my Cousin Christin
at Grandma Z's house.
The pony with the strawberry cupcake
tattooed on its left butt cheek
was my all time favorite.
The essence of vanilla and cake batter
would reflect off its plastic buns
when I scraped my nails against it.
Its hooves would trample slightly across
the cherry stained coffee table
as I rubbed my worn down Levis
against the tapered brown shag carpet.
The aroma of Basic Ultra Light Menthols
would encompass all the clean air.
It was odd when Grandma would
swat the carpenter ants
while Mr. Rogers would sing,
"Would you be my neighbor?," on PBS kids.
Now reminiscing on it,
I think the house was always infested
with ants because they were addicted
to the nicotine in Grandma's smokes.
the magical memories
of playing My Little Pony
with my Cousin Christin
at Grandma Z's house.
The pony with the strawberry cupcake
tattooed on its left butt cheek
was my all time favorite.
The essence of vanilla and cake batter
would reflect off its plastic buns
when I scraped my nails against it.
Its hooves would trample slightly across
the cherry stained coffee table
as I rubbed my worn down Levis
against the tapered brown shag carpet.
The aroma of Basic Ultra Light Menthols
would encompass all the clean air.
It was odd when Grandma would
swat the carpenter ants
while Mr. Rogers would sing,
"Would you be my neighbor?," on PBS kids.
Now reminiscing on it,
I think the house was always infested
with ants because they were addicted
to the nicotine in Grandma's smokes.
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