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Best Poems Written by Ashley Mckennon

Below are the all-time best Ashley Mckennon poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Lines Composed At a Mid-Day Meal

Lines Composed at a Mid-day Meal

To stare in ambivalence
At all things
Is to be in reverence 
Of all the small things
Like what a child brings
For, like a bird visiting upon my door
My sweet adoring child
Sings only of his joy for all.
After all, that is what love is for.
When children come to call.

Details | Ashley Mckennon Poem

A Stroll At the Biltmore Estate

The Student

As I strolled upon the green
and take in the breathtaking view of the front lawn
the onrush of winter geese take on the horizon,
waking me to my senses.

The silent roar of two lions guard the entrance
the entrance that now greets me from the summer sun as I
and my companion visit the house.

Beneath the opening arch,
the European marble beckons like wishing wells
In an open spring off in the distant countryside somewhere
and I am swaying to and fro in the
summer wind.

The sheer scale of the voyeur overwhelms the senses,
our eyes filled with sixteenth century tapestries and
seventeenth century bronze sculptures
paralleling Rome, Italy, and France.

At my right, the chess set of an imperial Frenchmen lay,
the pawns standing defiant for battle,
yet, unmoved they remain as I pass this way.

At my left, a library waits, and I--a deliberate reader--
stand in stupor at the sheer size of the Vanderbilt library
--my hands, restrained holding back, to read
every book the family ever read.

I am fascinated at the four-acre facade of American wealth, yet.
I can say not a word at this engaging portrait of nineteenth century life that now lays before
me.

But gone are the days
when you could sit and read all day
--as in the nineteenth century voyeur or library,
they say.

Gone are the days
when the outdoors beckoned the silent look
of two players at a game of chess.

Only the memory stands ready, as a friend,
just as the knight's of Vanderbilt's castle stand guard
at the foot of his staircase I climb
now trembling for words.

Only it can retrieve these lost fragments
of a poet's fragile mind, these books,
as I sit on a visit of its estate
composing a few lines.

Details | Ashley Mckennon Poem

Santa Monica Pier

Santa Monica Pier

I remember watching 
the ocean roll on the shore,
wave after wave, 
crashing down on the solid sand
and I idly staring back
wondering if the Atlantic was as blue.

I watched him light a candle
and move in the swaying light
from a bygone age.

The flame flickered, so fragile,
it leans and sways in the cold breeze

My burning love is the flame in the lamp
From antiquity--a pre-industrial artifact

An oil lamp of glass from Rome
Bronze from Carthage
A terra-cotta from Athens

He smiles at me 
in a flicker of light and 
knows all my past like a line from Virgil
A chronicle from Homer
An essay from Milton, a history of Herodotus

And me, ignorant,
knowing nothing of him 
can only quote 
from Ovid, 
	Beowulf, 
		Caedmon and Gilgamesh.
 
The flame descends,
From the nape of the lit candle,
	 and we are lying in darkness on a spring night.

Everything in history is forgotten 
	and yesterdays are not so many 
	as night descends, 
		the lit moon cast in the glow 
			of the lamplight of our love.

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Active Duty: the Comrade's Creed

The Creed

A crested lark rises in to the window 
	In the bittersweet rendezvous of a vow,
	And my fear passes, 
For it is in the free fall of our landing,
	its chord colliding into the road,
The sweet sovereignty of a caged bird freed.

He is bold, an arulean flame,
	The black phoenix with piercing gold eyes,
	As to look into the soul of Man, by the
			Whisper of his name.

There is a call to port, the sound of muster.
	It is not a sledge, 
		not a call of arms, or clash of titans,
		but a brother in arms, and rather,
			the confident laugh of a comrade.  

He is mighty, a strengthened arm,
	The flame of the Red Cross with piercing blue eyes,
	As to hear into the word of Man, by the
			Mention of his name.  

There is gold in the sky, and at our feet.
	It is a sledge, 
		a selection, a broken arrow,
		a burned statue, a torched flag.  
			It is a fallen hero.

There is an ominous sound of defeat, the sound of silence,
	It is a sledge,
		A call to pay tribute, or to triumph as titans
		A beautiful, soldier of arms fallen, and rather,
			my might is strengthened.

But my boots are worn,
	Of a previous bunk assignment 
		and its barrack mate,
                And my uniform is disheveled
	For they were my fathers
		And his father’s father of late. 

Her tongue is short,
	Petty in its manner 
		as a a cruel schoolgirl’s is to do,
                And she is the crisp April tide, 
	Surging forward with my frame,
		In a slumber within the waves of its wake.  


For, Liberty, she is resonance, the strength of my voice,
	The trinity of its oath with piercing gold eyes,
	As to resound the will of Man, by the
			Mention of his name.

And the tyrant, like the first rogue of its origin falls,
	The metal barricade falls, the rod upon its mortar, 	
                And as the crown falls from its coronate, 
The line runs along the narrow corridor of tyranny's exile,
	And in all of its combustion,
The sweet sovereignty of freedom reigns of the tyrant defied
And of the uncaged psalm freed, our creed at last, 
                rising and falling to the air.

For, I am the unfallen, not once that which once was,
		-but that which will rise to fight again
                                 for I am the oath of triumph.

Details | Ashley Mckennon Poem

From the Courtship Collections--The Call

Poor wisp of life, upon the billows whisper
A love assailed by storms of uncertainty and defeat.
Across what cruel seas of hope we flee,
My heart and yours alone to steer the course!

My pen is dull, my sword of little force
Our dreams lie open to the winds beat
As out from Love's harbor we pursue
Fleeting with our love, our charm, our hearts true.

Let the night be ours
Let heaven be our seat.
Till the break of day
When we must be gone, away.

How vain the joys our past has sent,
How wrong the love our heart has pent.
But here friendship lies as love springs forth
Bountiful, happy days-left for us-once more!

Seek nor part, 
brave the tempest's ire,
Our fated course, this day, 
My love, your love, our heart's desire.

Details | Ashley Mckennon Poem

Basic Training

Basic Training

My will is wasted on the words,
	Confined in its nothing,
Speaking in shards of everything that failed,
	All laying in its waste.
And with slow hands, I tremor,
	Confined in its something,
Rising and falling upon the everything 
	That I nailed,all rejoicing at its gate.
And with steady hands, I dream awake,
	Snapping the rifle piece into place
Like the old aluminum bat my father bought
	When I was all but sixteen.
It is cold, and I dream awake, of its beauty,
	The ring of the winning home run,
And I sleep, in its dream, its siren,
	The shard of providence, my grandfather
Once spoke of as a heaven.

Details | Ashley Mckennon Poem

From the Courtship Collections--An Evening Date

An Evening Date

Once, we lay beneath a starlit sky
And the sheaves of wheat seemed to bow
before the grandeur of our sighs.
I opened my heart to yours that day
Wishing to stay, for eternity, as we lay.

When we were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love unbound in hearts of flesh
It was then my aching heart
would yearn to meet.
Your love--a love that made me complete.
I won't forget you or the love I felt with you.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.

Details | Ashley Mckennon Poem

From the Courtship Collections--The Engagement

A bluebird came upon my path with spirit light
I watched as he tarried along the way
He fluttered in a fury then into a flight
I awaiting to hear what he might say.
His spirit soared, he chirped a rhyme
I listened close, forgetting the time.
And he bespake unto me
A merry day to thee!
I know thou art a child
Listening to the heavenly trees
Caught within a tempest mild.
But, listen close, dear one,
And wiht good fortune I will tell.
The spirit of love and its sails
And this lullalae, now, bid you well!

Details | Ashley Mckennon Poem

From the Courtship Collections

A Love Departed

I dreamt once as I lay awake in your arms
That I may greet a day
Beneath the wondrous stars
And sunlit rays
With you, only you, once again.

You were daring, chivalric, and make of valor
And I-I was an innocent girl
A best friend and impetous scholar.
For nights, I sought after thee
Only wishing to say, you complete me.

Details | Ashley Mckennon Poem

The Pregnant Sailor's Wife

Thar be me captain
The leader of my crew.
He is a mighty man
Bold, Strong, and True.

I be his shipmate
The cook, swab, and crew.
I am but his deckhand
Loving, Affectionate, and True.

In me belly be our seed
The mascot of our trade.
He is but a boy now
A symbol of a love that will never fade.