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byashleyegan.bsky.social
Ashley ✒️
@byashleyegan.bsky.social
130 followers 120 following 130 posts
(she/her)
Poet, Writer, & Artist
Awkward AuDHD bi-INFJ with anxiety.
Cozy little witch in the woods.
☀️ Scorpio 🌙 Cancer ☁️ Capricorn

🔗: https://byashleyegan.carrd.co/
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byashleyegan.bsky.social
Ashley ✒️ @byashleyegan.bsky.social · Nov 22
Okay #Poetrysky, poem dump time, because this one I got covered.
A white image with the words "Get to know my writing for every like, I will post one piece I wrote"
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Just like that, 30 days and 720 hours have passed. Another NaPoWriMo has come and gone. Did you enjoy NaPoWriMo this year? Are you proud of anything you wrote? The second slide is a poem from last year.
A faded warm background with cows, the image looks papery and vintage. Black text reads: "How to Exist Tenderly in an Even Sharper World" by Ashley Marie Egan "Growing up is a human flaw, the king of the jungle still chases butterflies, and I still sniff weeds like their flowers. Don't let them choose for you, because they will if you let them, we all end up back where we came. Take a walk down memory lane, do you remember all the addresses? That one neighbor is still there. Is it getting sentimental in here, or is it just me? Settle into the dirt, root into the earth's memory. The beginning ends here, but wait, the end starts here, too. I promise, kindness is the new violence. Or at least it could be, if "this" but "that" died how free would we be?" A beige paper background with black text that reads: "How to Exist Tenderly in a Sharp World" by Ashley Marie Egan "Snuggle up, drink warmth, feel the metronome of your heart or the breath of a furry critter, smile into a book on a rainy day pick flowers in the golden sun bask in the magic of falling snow, take a walk down memory lane let the wind engulf you in memories, moments of time you long forgotten how they can feel like a dream, another life, bury the hatchet in the backyard with the vining roses, poison to fertilizer, laugh at ridiculous truths, shake off fake news investigate cryptids and conspiracy theories as if they were a game of Nancy Drew, don't take anything too seriously and look at everything with wonder, Silver Linings and second chances swirling in the marble of a lifetime."
April 30, 2025 at 10:36 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Well, this is not the #poem I was expecting to create when I started writing today, but here she is. All 167 words of her. lol My prompt for today, I used on the 4th, so I used the 4th's prompt for today. Symmetry or something.
A soft, faded mountainscape over a lake; faded by soft, petal pink light leaks and a papery texture. Black text reads: "In Defense of Adam" by Ashley Marie Egan "he never did anything wrong - it wasn't about him or the garden or the little whispering snake - I was hungry for more from the moment I was made - not from his rib but from the same dust and earth - we stood on equal ground, imagine it, lying in the dirt bleeding to breed to birth all the children of man - none of it appealed to me what about my dreams?" A soft, faded mountainscape over a lake; faded by soft, petal pink light leaks and a papery texture. Black text reads: "In Defense of Adam" by Ashley Marie Egan "So I ate the damn apple - only for them to set it all ablaze call me the mother of surviving out of spite paint my story in hellfire and cinders- for years, I eased the burn by coping with a quiet softness - now I hold true to who I am, if they tell you to be quiet learn to scream - in defense of Adam we were made from the same cloth - but he's sunlight while I'm moon-kissed he was slow-roasted while I was kiln-fired."
April 29, 2025 at 6:52 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
I'm a simple person. If I see a #poetry prompt based on #TheOffice, I will use it. LOL. I can't believe we are in the last days of #NaPoWriMo already!
A cool-hued background with a paper-like texture and pixelated stars. Black text reads: "I Feel God in This Chevy Tonight" after “I feel God in this Chili's tonight.” - Pam, "The Office" (TV, 2005 - 2013) A cool-hued background with a paper-like texture and pixelated stars. Black text reads: "We were born from savages it's in our nature to scream - you stand at the edge of a cliff throat throbbing with sound - light streaks through the air as you glow like a plasma lamp - the car shakes with my fear a million images of a fall - notebooks filled with reasons to stay upright on the ground - when you look back at me a string of tears dangle as orchids - the sorrow in my marrow aches the rage in my heart's cage fades - back inside you panted for breath while I pointed out the constellations - as the hours passed, the ghostlights dimmed, and the sun rose over the dead-end road." by Ashley Marie Egan
April 28, 2025 at 8:08 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Hear ye, hear ye! My back hurts, and I'm on Shark Week, so here is some #poetry to make things sweet. 🦈😭🍫
A warm, faded image with a papery surface. Black text reads: "The Last Message: An Expose on Heartbreak" by Ashley Marie Egan "The soft crackle is new, now I'm imagining you older. The background is alive with TV vomit and bated breath. The words you're saying, have been said before tonight. The echoing tenderness and sanctity of our old oaths die in my ear canal. The mistaken memories and nights of blurred passion. The ache of breaking, of losing parts, what's real-and-true has no guarantee. There's a soft crackle in your voice, now I can't stop imagining you older. Do it, I dare you. Grow old without me, I promise, the world has so much to offer."
April 27, 2025 at 7:26 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
You only get a peek at today's #poem, so don't expect to see how I used my prompt for today. 😂
A warm photo collage of a bee and the woods, overlain by vintage papers. Black text reads: "The Drone Bee" -by Ashley Marie Egan "Well, they are sensitive - soft as pollen, heavy as grief. They craft vulnerabilities - the way beavers craft dams. They shed their histories - peel of the past like dead skin. - an excerpt"
April 26, 2025 at 9:16 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
I enjoyed how this poem came out! Big thanks to Amy Kay for the fantastic prompt! As for my prompt for today, well...I wrote two poems, and the poem I wrote with my poem for today is gonna be saved for now.
A faded purple starry background with black text that reads: "Directions Back Home" (after Juan Felipe Herrera) "When you reach the river bend, turn towards the rising moon and walk down the meadow path to the patch of dandelions ready to be renewed. Blow every seed, follow the spirits down the mountain to the forest floor. Only by walking on the fallen leaves will every crunch whisper a direction, but the fireflies are more than happy to help. The glowing blink of their bodies will lead you out of the mossy thicket. With every nick of a thorn, rummage through your rage until the pain is gone. From there, you will fall onto a dirt road. The sun will ask you to climb, but the wind will beckon you to descend. You will make the choice your most uncomfortable with, but somehow you'll end up in the same place. The lake is colored in warm hues from the setting sun. When the desire to be painted in light strikes you, jump in. Float with the current. Let the silky water tuck you into the stars. When your eyes open again, the light of early morning will cascade over your tired bones. I will be there at the dock, arm outstretched, and lantern heart aglow. Welcome Home." by Ashley Marie Egan
April 25, 2025 at 11:20 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Happiness is an evening under the stars with no worries clouding your brain. A sunny day out at your favorite place. The rain in April brings everything back to life. The colorful leaves in autumn. The crisp snow in winter. The flutter of excitement, and how it makes the heart go boom.
A paper texture with the faded image of dandelions in the background. Black text reads: "A List Poem of the Ways I Self-Medicate" by Ashley Marie Egan "1) Ask the stars questions to be answered in starlight. 2) Blink softly upon the golden eye of a solar eclipse. Gaze long into the silver eye of a full moon. 3) Treat the mirror as an art frame; learn to love the art that is me. 4) Get goosebumps as often as possible. Feel the chill, the body's tremors. 5) Fed stomachs, before they have the chance to growl or ache. 6) Growing despite the pain. Playing despite your age. 7) Letting what will never be finished go free. 8) Walking through a soft breeze with dandelion seeds in my hair. A smile as they ask, what did you wish for?"
April 24, 2025 at 6:35 PM
Reposted by Ashley ✒️
catsofyore.bsky.social
Gorgeous photo from The Color Nature Library: CATS by Peggy Wratten, 1977. I can't find the photographer's name, unfortunately. None is noted anywhere in the book.
Beautiful photo of an orange tabby tuxedo cat gazing out of a window with a crack in the glass. The wood trim on the window is an almost identical orange to the cat's coat. So much orange could be too much with no contrast but in this photo is works brilliantly.
April 22, 2025 at 6:14 PM
Reposted by Ashley ✒️
dailybunnies.bsky.social
April 22, 2025 at 8:36 PM
Reposted by Ashley ✒️
gregandree71.bsky.social
The Our Flag Means Death themed little library tour! #OFMD #littlefreelibrary
April 21, 2025 at 7:47 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Today's #poem was shaped mostly by Skyer's prompt to find something I wrote a while ago, but don't remember writing. I found and used the line, "we ate each other's colors".
A faded, noisy background image of warm pastel clouds. Black text reads: "After Neverland" by Ashley Marie Egan "Moonlight pools in the hollow of my collarbone - you spoke in short phrases, soft quivering demands - "God is a woman and I'm, well, I'm here to worship." - this isn't a poem to answer all your burning questions - this is a poem for the lost ones who grew up hungry for affection, how their hearts never changed, we ate each other's colors - bolosming without permission caught in the flow of endless change."
April 23, 2025 at 7:43 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Saving today's poem (that I wrote with today's prompt) for later. Instead, here is a poem I wrote on the 20th that I have edited and am now tentatively ready to share.
A soft, purple background with a rough texture. Black text reads: "After the Soul Was Created By" the song of a celestial whale - stars blinked open their eyes in time to see midnight blue ignite in bright green ribbons - the hum of a waking season brought the forest to life with teeth, tongues, lungs - to whistle songs of life into the crust of the Mother with her four elemental hearts - deciphering our dreams before we have them - the precise moment before when frost melted down the spine of The First - a time before chalk outlines or cauterizing old wounds - when the world was young. Poem by Ashley Marie Egan
April 22, 2025 at 8:51 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
The working title for this #poem is . . . "An Exterminator Quits on Day One"
e background is a faded and ripped photo of birds flying in the sky. Black Text reads: "Can I ask you something about the harmony of birds? You see, my heart is a land of gentle devastations. All my tricks rotted beneath a well-kept exterior. A Victorian house is in here somewhere, haunting my pink matter. Salt the marrow and burn the bones — a nest is replaceable. What I mean to ask is — would you forgive me if I didn't burn it down? If I let the house stand, to protect the nest to hear their songs. Would you understand? Could you forgive me?" By Ashley Marie Egan
April 21, 2025 at 8:14 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Oh, to be painted in the colors of Monet's world.
The background is a faded version of "Water Lilies", Claude Monet (1906). Black Text reads: "The Last Supper in the Style of Monet" by Ashley Marie Egan "The walls have dissolved into air, now everything has a soft haze. A pond rests to the right of the table, water lilies speaking in emerald tongues. Sunbeams cascade into kisses, dappled glow, lacing light with life. Their feet rest on a damp moss bed, between their bare toes, they can feel the pulse. The meal is painted in shades of pastel - as if their plates had grown from the ground. Everyone is colored in magic shades of earth - a blueprint of how to grow into oneself. Longing too silent. Hunger too loud." At the top of the page is an image of the painting "The Last Supper", Leonardo Da Vinci (1495–1498). The Last Supper, is a fictional depiction of Jesus with his twelve apostles as they dine together for the last time. The painting explores the moment Jesus revealed that one of his disciples would betray him. He is seated in the center with a face that some would call forlorn. His disciples gossip in the corners of the painting; many of them express shock and concern. The scene emphasizes the emotional weight of the betrayal and sacrifice. At the bottom of the page is an image of the painting "Water Lilies", Claude Monet (1906). Water Lilies is a part of a series os paintings Monet painted at the Garden. Water Lilies depicts a soft and hazy green pond in the throes of spring. Pink lilies and their pads are scattered across the pond. Reflections of the sky, trees, and clouds are visible on the surface. Monet used vibrant colors and soft brushstrokes to capture the dynamics of light, shadow, and color on the water's surface.
April 19, 2025 at 10:03 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Raise your hands ✋ in the comments if you wanna join me on an alternate timeline/universe jumping adventure?
A soft, warm, faded piece of paper is overlaid with an image of moss-covered rocks. Black text reads: "In an Alternate Timeline Where We Are Lovers of Legend" by Ashley Marie Egan "They would summon us in Summer or Autumn, because we were always hot and falling. They would ask me how you responded to pain, not yours, but mine. They would ask me a bunch of "what woulds". What would they do if I were murdered? What would they do if I were harmed? They are looking for a cut-and-dry answer. For dewdrops on mossy carpet beds. We tucked winter into sleep before burning our sugared lips together, how the amber smoke curled. We were created for love, to love. Sharp needs soft. If blood was spilt, if evil came for my breath— my lover wouldn’t get revenge. And why would they? That's the reason I love them."
April 18, 2025 at 9:31 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Happy National #Haiku Day! I present a poetic prologue for a memory written solely in the most basic Haiku format available. 😂 I'm not sure how I feel about this one, but hey, it's all mine.
A soft, warm background with hues of red. Black text reads: "Hiakus as a Prologue" by Ashley Marie Egan "The night of burning, all doors opened with a hum. Wind whispered her name. Absence, consequence, a million idle questions. An answer in bloom. She took hold of me, heart shivering in her hand. My bread and butter. The sunflower fields are ugly the way I am. Seed faced, sun towers. Souls reaching for light have the most beautiful glow. For they're still growing."
April 17, 2025 at 9:42 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Some #poetry about being born. Has anyone else thought about how we felt the experience of being born, but we'll never actually remember what it felt like? Just some weird food, for weird thoughts.
A soft, warm paper background with a faded watercolor painted sunrise. Black text reads: "In Your Own Words, Tell Us How It Happened" by Ashley Marie Egan "In the afternoon, on the day I was born, I buried the sun with violet clouds and copper hawks. My mother bled honey and hand-me-down tramuas. My father fed me from the wrong nipple. I cannot remember the closeness of my birth, but I can't forget the crumbs under my feet. In moments, when I feel alive, my sight blurs into bokeh. The sharp edges of color fade. The world softens into dew."
April 16, 2025 at 6:28 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Today's poem took shape due to Amy's prompt. Her prompt required me to choose a title written by someone else. I chose to use "My Anatomy Only Makes Sense With Your Hands on Me" which was posted by @eridan.us (on IG).
A faded colorful background with trees, a blue sky, and pink leaves. Two shadowed hands reach for each other in the upper center. The black text reads: "My Anatomy Only Makes Sense With Your Hands on Me" by Ashley Marie Egan "They keep asking me for my order. / What did I want again? / Time begets time to forget. / My mind has only one obsession, / the trains full of my passions departed with a heavy wish long ago. / By now you would have called me "dramatic", / but I speak no lies. / The Chiromancy of my life is linked to yours, / all paths in my palm have your name on them. / It's actually that deep. / Sacrifice is a burden, and I'm tired of writing apologies. / Burn my scribbles of regrets. / The chiromancy of your hands against my skin, / seeking futures, / aching to become prophecy fulfilled. / My anatomy only makes sense / with your future on my skin. / But I don't know what I'm missing. / They keep asking me... / What did I want? / Time begets time to forget."
April 15, 2025 at 8:08 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
A break can be mended, a sever can be sewn, but a crumble will never resemble its former self again.
A faded warm purple and gold marble background. Black text reads: "Marble Skin" by Ashley Marie Egan "When we are young we learn to look up; to whisper spells for a future we may never see. Lost in the eyes of love, watching a quiet bloom discover its color only to slowly lose it. Memory's Garden is fickle with a tickle of poison vines itching at my hero complex. Your candied eyes catch a sugar rush maple syrup crystalized into stars. If love is life and life is love then why do we lose so much of it? The will is given then taken, but still, we live and love. Why? To live and love, to ache and break, and watch the crumble of the idolization. When we are young we learn to look up; now we look down through lashes. Odds, ends, and strange bedfellows; red-caked under my nails, heart matter."
April 14, 2025 at 8:09 PM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
Wrote a poem. Might delete later.
A faded orange background with clouds. Black text reads: ""Ode to My Bad Adittude" by Ashley Marie Egan "she's quick to anger but easy to cool down, unsure of her direction taking the long way around still learning to take a hit breaking teeth, blood spit, she displays her bruises mimicking galaxies, moonlit, fading, like her odd memory remembering soft things lickety-split, but she forgets what you just said, she takes note of every escape, and takes criticism with a shield quick with wit and eager to shape, the arguments will not end until she wins, grand slam, says 'I think I'm always right, doesn't help that I usually am,' the soft secret at her core is a wish to be wrong, to be unbarred, wishes she could feel safe in every space instead of being her own bodyguard."
April 14, 2025 at 1:09 AM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
You mean"Ivan the Terrible and His Son" by Ilya Repin; doesn't represent the vampiric nature of power and grief?🔥 A Lamplighter (aka Gaslighter) was a 16th-century occupation that required employees to light and maintain candle, oil, or gas-based street lamps.
A warm glowy yellow background with black text that reads: "The Lamplighter Poets" by Ashley Marie Egan "They write with ink aglow, lit by the spark of— they used to I used to. They drink from the skull get high on memories, you are they I am empty. In the painting, a father cries as he holds his dead son. Lips to corpse, in vampiric desperation, he had to kill his son to love him. That is also a portrait of us; you are death stuffed in skin, and I am life on the cusp hungry for time." The black text continues: "Kiss my wide petrified eyes, sink your teeth into my brain. I'm sorry I'm forgetful, my focus blurs & bleeds. You ask me the same questions I never answer the same. We've made it this far though, how can I deny the sanguinarian? The light calls me by name, ink in my bones yearning to glow. I've made it this far by growing; I deserve firefly marrow and its narrative magic. Deserve is not guaranteed— and the historians got it wrong, that much I know." A warm glowy yellow background with a framed representation of the art piece "Ivan the Terrible and His Son” by Ilya Repin. The painting depicts the aftermath of a crime of passion. In the heat of an argument with his son; Tsar Ivan IV, known as Ivan the Terrible, fatally hit his son, Ivan Ivanovich. In the painting the mad father cradles his dying son; his face is twisted in despair and his lip is on his son's bloody scalp. The father is depicted as crying in a moment of pure overwhelm. The son is depicted as shocked yet lifeless in his father's arms.
April 11, 2025 at 9:40 PM
Reposted by Ashley ✒️
invalidname.mastodon.social.ap.brid.gy
Ambassador Spock modeling the proper “fuck you, make me” response to intimidation tactics. Our current-day institutions could learn a lot from him.
April 10, 2025 at 3:11 PM
Reposted by Ashley ✒️
nikitagill.bsky.social
Needed words from the brilliant Andrea Gibson.
GOOD GRIEF Let your heart break so your spirit doesn't.
April 11, 2025 at 8:20 PM
Reposted by Ashley ✒️
nywolforg.bsky.social
This is what a critically endangered Red Wolf looks like. If we work together, we can save them 🐺

nywolf.org
April 10, 2025 at 1:34 AM
byashleyegan.bsky.social
The one, and only, Dolly Parton once sang: "Barely gettin' by, it's all takin' and no givin'. They just use your mind and they never give you credit. It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it." <- I'll just leave that here for y'all. 💗 #Poetry #Poem #NaPoWriMo
A soft pink paper background with black text that reads: "RIP to My Last Nerve You Would Have Loved the Drama" by Ashley Marie Egan "I'd like to file a complaint, but I don't want to be perceived by another ignorant asshole. You see, I misheard the lyrics, I thought she sang "we're gettin' by" not "barely getting by". Which is to say, I want more, I want more than "barely" settling isn't in my nature. Soon, you'll look around, and find yourself asking "Where did they go?" You'll never find the answer yourself, so, let me help you— by holding this mirror."
April 10, 2025 at 8:29 PM