| Profile |
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Personal Info |
| Age: 27 |
| Name: Neisha C. Purvis |
| Location: Virginia Beach, Va |
| Occupation: Real Estate Paralegal |
| Favorite Poet: Nas, Lupe Fiasco, FrstLadylsm, S.E.A., and Natonya... |
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| My Guestbook Sign | View Contact Me: Neisha@SoulofAhsien.com
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As a visitor to my site, I assume you already know one thing about me that maybe the next man wouldn't. I'm a writer. Aside from that, my story is about as normal as room temperature water. (Smile) But, as the great Shawn Carter would say-allow me to reintroduce myself.
My name is Neisha Purvis and I go by the alias "Ahsien", my first name spelled backwards. I am the product of beautiful parents, and one of four daughters. Born in Brooklyn, NY, my family and I moved to Willingboro, NJ when I was six years old. A geek by trade, you could always catch me with a book or some scrap paper ready to write my next story, song, poem, etc. But if I was to sit and really pinpoint when my passion for writing hit me, I would say around age twelve. At that time, my parents were in the beginning stages of a separation, years away from the inevitable divorce. I remember writing poems and reading them to my youngest sister because I knew she wouldn't understand or judge me. From there, a monster was created.
Fast-forward 13 years and you have Ahsien. Now 26 years old and residing in Virginia Beach, Va. I am the mother of two beautiful children, and handling the "single-mother thing" like a champ :o). I am a lot busier than the twelve year old nerd with the red glasses that I used to be. But never am I too busy to pick up a pen and get to writing. I remember someone once asked me what inspires me to write. The answer is simple. It's my heart. Everything is in there. From the hugs and kisses my son gives me, to the coos and smiles from my baby girl. The love from my family, and the hurt we cause each other. The tears my man wiped away, and the many tears he made stay. The Lord didn't give me this gift not to use it. The way I see it, if I don't write from my heart, I shouldn't be writing at all.
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�I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, when his wing is bruised and his bosom sore; when he beats his bars and he would be free, it is not a carol of joy or glee, but a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core.�
Paul Laurence Dunbar - Updated Monthly
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