Tag: book sample

  • 50 Adorable Sheep Facts :: Book Sample

    50 Adorable Sheep Facts by Ashlee Craft

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    50 Adorable Sheep Facts by Ashlee Craft

    1.

    Sheep were one of the first animals to be domesticated.

    50 Adorable Sheep Facts by Ashlee Craft

    2.

    Sheep have very good memories & can remember as many as 50 specific humans & sheep for several years.

    50 Adorable Sheep Facts by Ashlee Craft

    3.

    There are more than one million sheep in the world.

    50 Adorable Sheep Facts by Ashlee Craft

    4.

    Baby sheep (less than 14 months old) are called lambs, female sheep are ewes, male sheep are called rams or bucks, & neutered male sheep are called “wethers”.

    50 Adorable Sheep Facts by Ashlee Craft

    5.

    Sheep’s horns are

    made of keratin,

    just like your fingernails.

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  • Sun in the Night: The Poems of Art Poems & Assemblage

    Sun in the Night by Ashlee Craft - Cover

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    This book is a volume containing all the poems from the first three volumes of Art Poems & the first 13 issues of Ashlee Craft / Assemblage. A book filled just with the poetry, in case poetry is your main priority & you just want to read them.

    Poems “Breezy Summer Hill” through “Yellow Jazz” are from Art Poems, Volume 1. Poems “Bricks” through “Wish Upon a Star” are from Art Poems, Volume 2. Poems “Vivid Life” through “& I Embrace the Changes” are from Art Poems – Volume 3. Poems “Relieved Dream” through “You Never Owned Me” are from Assemblage, Issue 1. Poems “Seven Things You Need to Know” through “…YOU DON’T KNOW ME” are from Issue 2. Poems “I Don’t Care” through “Authenticity” are from Issue 3. Poems “I was so innocent” through “You Cared About Me” are from Issue 4. Poem “we danced in the rain” is from Issue 5. Poems “Stay” through “You Cared About Me II” are from Issue 6. Poems “she liked to battle her demons in the dark” through “I Knew Then I Belonged There” are from Issue 7. Poems “You Thought You Had Me” through “beautiful” are from Issue 8. Poems “my name” through “after the storm” are from Issue 9. Poems “Souvenirs” through “fledglings” are from Issue 10. Poem “Friend…” is from Issue 11. Poems “WAKE UP” & “people (there) actually seem to enjoy helping me” are from Issue 12. Poems “if it were that way” & “respected, at last, at once” are from Issue 13.

    In total, this book contains 140 poems.

    Breezy Summer Hill

    wind blowing onwards ever onwards gently pushing soft fluffy clouds into view the breeze is slightly cool in contrast with the warm summer sun / the beginning of summer / rays of sunlight occasionally peeking thru the air amongst the clouds providing hint of light / a summer storm is blowing in rain / rain that will allow the fragrant flowers to bloom / smell the impending petrichor in the distance growing ever nearer / feel the heartbeat of the earth

    I lie on my back on the hill staring up at the vast expanse of bluish gray sky / the wind blows fresh upon my face caressing my hair & causing the grass around me to sway & dance / rustle rustle rustling sweet music / & the meaning of it all changes in repetition / please stay, perfect feelings that swim so gracefully around me & fill my soul

    in the distance I can smell the fresh air approaching / I smell nature all around me / & the smell & sound of the ocean at the bottom of the hill summer serenade in perfect peace / waves crashing in the stormy sea in preparation for the onslaught of pelting rain / I know I must return home soon but for now I want to remain on this hill / remain here & just breathe & be & feel alive / there is magic upon this hill I feel it deep down inside of me / & despite the impending storm I feel like everything will be perfectly okay / I want to remain here as the rain approaches / I want to feel alive

    in the midst of the ongoing breeze, a blue flower twirls in freedom bending to the beat of the wind / it dances & sways in perfect freedom remaining out there to gather up the nurturing rain / always changing & growing & becoming more radiant / & I watch hope blossom

    Clovers

    green green green all around in the patterned hallways / an ongoing onomatopoeia of sounds & colors & sights & senses ignited by it all

    a waterfall of green & circular stones in the empty sky floating by tent ground

    a maze labyrinth never-ending always something to discover if you look a little closer

    a square picture frame wet by watercolors about to be placed into the art museum in the street

    a seashell lying on the shore having journeyed many miles along ocean currents now waiting on the sand for someone to find it pick it up & bring it home

    behind it all a green grassy meadow turf flowing onwards & onwards

    the sun is just rising above the hill spreading fingers of gold out into the sky & alighting the new world

    the patterns of nature pine trees & feathers & rows of spiny scales & interlocking plates of stone

    & a flower blooming upside down just to feel the rays of sun on its petals & yet in this different approach, succeeding

    ombre stripes stipulated by four-dimensional allusions, the safe warmth of home’s hearth & the cozy rug beneath my feet

    piano key pattern with yin yang showing the balance of productivity & relaxation

    yet outside my window mountain tops loom & yet I will climb them soon I am finally ready

    suddenly I look down & on the ground beneath my feet

    & there, I find a lucky four-leafed clover

    Coasting Along

    walking along on the shore with you / our hands entwined / it is fall & cold wind nips at our skin & the leaves in the forest are falling from their branches & littering the ground / & yet on the shore, everything looks the same as it always does

    we snuggle up next to each other / my hands are chilly but if I couldn’t feel the cold wind biting at my skin I could imagine it being June here rather than November / but I don’t mind / the fall wind just makes everything cozier & the sea more vast in its endlessness & infinity

    see the contrast of the wind pelting but not harming or changing the solid & stoic stony arches that rest on the shore ahead of us / see the contrast between the dry powder sand & the chilly sparkling water / see the stolid distance horizon that we approach but it only grows further from us / see the contrast between the cold empty shore & the warmth of our love

    & yet amongst the chilly wind & unending shoreline & unchanging beach, I find something strange & fleeting & beautiful / it is the slow yet gentle passing of time, & the warm beauty of you next to me, grinning at me & reminding me that in a few minutes we should head back & get some hot cocoa to warm us again / I say wait a minute I want to walk under the stony arches / you nod & hand in hand we run there together

    we approach the stone arches & suddenly we see that it’s not all unchanging shorelines / the arches grow closer & suddenly we are near enough to feel their enormity / we walk under them slowly, my heart beating a little quicker with awe at the majesty of the arches / infinite & everlasting / always there like a beacon lighthouse upon the stormy sea / it’s not much but it’s something to hold onto / my hand feels the cold stone strength of them in one hand & the soft passionate warmth of your hand in my other / & as we pass through the stone arches & turn to head back home, we’re grinning at each other / & suddenly something occurs to me / maybe the shore isn’t always what it seems / maybe it changes / maybe there’s more to it than meets the eye

    Glow of Hope

    the street is dark & hope is bleak, dirty street walls caged souls can’t speak

    remnants of garbage & things left behind, to rot in the sewers of the streets where dreams die

    the lonely girl walking along, the night is still & silent, no one knows she’s out here alone

    but it was essential she came here when she did, she could not wait any longer

    the streets were empty & almost silent

    except for forlorn cries in the distance, yet she could not stop for anything not even fear

    her feet padding along on dark pavement heart pounding

    heading towards the old forgotten lifeless brick buildings

    finally she reaches the place where she is drawn to (even though she doesn’t understand why)

    the place where the idea first came to her, sparkling

    & she stood in between the brown bricks & cold cement, arms upraised into the air

    & her hands clasping the dreams she holds deep within

    holding them up to the darkened sky & waiting for something to happen

    the night is still & silent & frightening & cold she’s never felt more alone in her life

    yet nothing changes & the dreams remain in the dark (fear creeping in fear creeping in)

    suddenly she breathes in deeply the approaching air

    & at that moment her dreams are ignited by an ember of Hope

    she stands in awe looking at the dreams in her hands

    they are glowing the whole alley is glowing she is glowing glowing

    the dreams once drying & dying & forsaken & forgotten

    alight in the night illuminating her soul & her dreams are breathing again

    & there is nothing more beautiful than dreams coming back to life stronger than ever before

    dreams illuminated by the undying light of Hope

    & suddenly she knows that everything is going to be okay

    Misty Mountain Fog

    cacophonous enrapture upon sea after sea

    drifting colors on a palette, brush sweeping strokes across the creational landscape

    the city streets & the countryside

    do not have to remain cold & bleak with their winter monochromatic paleness

    the walls & brick buildings & sleepless apartment buildings

    empty emotionless persuasions & repercussions reprinted on false paper & held onto by plastic ideals

    they do not have to remain unmoved & emotionless with steely-smiles frightening in the dark

    they do not have to remain as empty representations of what really matters

    the mountains do not have to stretch up into the sky

    with their many insurmountable challenges looming above you

    too high for your hands to ever reach

    too difficult for your soul to be able to stand, strong enough to beat you

    you can climb that mountain you are stronger than you think you are

    explorational flurries & swirls twirling & dancing as the paint falls from the sky

    you can do this you can make it

    you feel weak & insignificant & afraid but soon you’ll find that light inside you

    & the wind is suddenly the canvas

    painting the land with the colors of life

    you take that first step up the mountainside

    & begin the grandest journey ever lived

    this is the story of your life from now on

    Spring Breeze

    it would be a crime to dispute the ebullient valor in technicolor parade

    gauzy leaves & floral petals, ethereal & evocative in their gentility

    reverberating in rippling ruffles of breezes

    & incandescent filaments in their radiant newborn resonances

    rhapsodies in repeating waning charred chords on stone

    printed on old newsprint blowing in the zephyr

    expectations of joyous possibilities you see them all laid out in front of you

    letting go of the mistakes of the past even though you mourn for what was lost & what cannot be rewritten

    but rewriting the story even better than before when presented with the second chance finding even better ways of making words come alive

    a chrysalis consisting of a glass bubble forever suspended upon the fragile flower seeds beneath the snowy ground

    sandy soil the warmth of the sun slowly seeping down into the rain-soaked soils

    & the flowers waiting waiting waiting gently until the urge to rise above fills them & they push up through the soil & towards the sunlight which they crave

    & they will emerge into the air on a bright spring day as the snow is melting

    & painting the landscape with their colors of red blue purple

    they will become the future

    in the garden of hope

    where every month is a year, and every year, a decade

    where time stands still but progresses all the same

    & where anything is possible

    Sun in the Night

    sun in the night looming in the eclipse above antique Victorian houses rectitude shining over the old metal trellis grating / piano keys inside the wind tunnel spinning in unison with the breeze / tents & campfires just being started in empty fields near rivers & clouds flying on past by

    trees in a river of multicolored paint spreading the waters & dividing the tides into what is free & what is owned, reverberating rectification a baseball thrown on a warm summer day in the retro neighborhood where parents & children throw the baseball around to each other as the sun is setting behind the clouds / but also in the clouds forming the shape of someone with their mouth in a snarl looking towards the flaming forest fire & the pools of sorrow strewn into the ground / a lone figure emerging from the darkness crows surrounding it & flying up cawing & crying out into the darkness yet the fear dissipates illuminated by the sunrise / brick walls in the morning light / oceans in the rain

    (I will try again tomorrow)

    & yet despite fear’s flurries cascading around me I feel their strength collapse with each breath I take & every strong & unstoppable step forward suddenly seeing that things that used to break me now become the stairs I ascend upon into the next day brilliant & breathing & alive / marveling at the perfection & miracle of my existence, & of the existence of everyone & everything else in this world / I am not afraid anymore

    & yet above all of this stands the sun, glowing & yellow, rebelling against the oppressive darkness / & the sun is always overhead in the sky even when the night is dark & we cannot see it

    Sunray Meadow

    warm warm sunrays & meadow of life

    river running thru it to nurture it & the gentle swaying grasses

    warmth bright light free from sorrow

    but not free from difficulty (that would be boring)

    (to live in a place where everything was too simple

    & there was never anything to contemplate or figure out or solve or change or do anything else about)

    sure, I don’t want an enormously difficult life

    but if everything was too happy & carefree & easy

    I would be very bored with it all

    thankfully in this meadow there is contrast

    the contrast between the day & the night

    yes, the long smiling summer days

    & the rainy cold ice winters & dark nights of the soul

    there is contrast & conflict & that makes it all interesting

    mediated by the flow of tears of sorrow & tears of joy

    running thru the land & the cracks in the drying soil & nurturing the very things

    the very things

    that make us human

    Sunshine Mountain

    harpsichord difficulty diffusion renegade

    pianos in the streets with keys left unplayed

    to gather the threads left strewn & strayed

    the swirl in the red-orange wing from the desert

    sunbeams flowing downwards over hills of stone

    from stained glass window mountains the light shone

    remembrances I can only remember alone

    clouds of fiery colors collecting in the sky

    standing on top of the mountain peak’s majesty

    to think you say emotions are such travesty

    but in this struggling strife we find unique diversity

    & in reflections in stained glass mountains

    pale blue clouds floating on a languid summer day

    purple mist in the distance is coming this way

    I thought all this time I wanted you to stay

    but in the end it was all just a memory of the mountains

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  • We Love You, Little Owl – Sample Chapter

    We Love You, Little Owl by Ashlee Craft

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    Page 1 - We Love You, Little Owl by Ashlee Craft

    The little owl was trying to go to sleep. He couldn’t, because something was wrong.

    Page 2 - We Love You, Little Owl by Ashlee Craft

    The little owl couldn’t go to sleep because he was sad and lonely.

    “I feel alone.” The little owl said. “I don’t have any friends, and I am scared.”

    Page 3 - We Love You, Little Owl by Ashlee Craft

    “I love you.” Said the tree that the owl lived in. “I am your home and you are always welcome here.”

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