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Best Poems Written by Ashley-Nicole Todd

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

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Of Great Ruin

The cold night with the lights shining in the city
it’s a good time when everyone looks pretty. 
Bottle breaking 
smoke swapping
cops cracking. 
The night is young like I was, 
inevitably invincible 
like the immature mind produces an unnatural high. 
Searching
wanting
lusting,
for the things that keep on burning. 
The juvenile exposure built my mind yet pruned it 
of it’s innocence and doubled it’s experience. 
Bathroom sleeping
tequila snatching
bloodied fists. 
The atmosphere darkens
the attitudes sharpen
and lives are finally ruined. 
Rome wasn’t built in a day but after it’s demise,
it’s walls were never the same. 
Now the uncontrolled has sought control
from the dangers that plague the world she once lived in. 
The consequences so hard to burden that every place is hard to stand in. 
The bitter sweet memories still fresh that I can see them,
but they stay hidden in my mind as if satan condemned them.

Details | Ashley-Nicole Todd Poem

The Valley Between the Windy Trees

The valley between the windy trees
Across the street from me.
I sit below the pines
To evade the busy street.
The yard and the distant billowing trees
Ensure me a better sense of security
From the industrious life 
That surrounds the house entirely.

The birds and the bees
Have their daily routine
Maybe they might remember me
At seven o' clock every evening.
For lazy Sundays and wispy nights
Make for a beautiful sight.
The wind rocks the leaves like a lullaby
In between the valley of the windy trees
And the wind and the rocks and the leaves
Shush me into a restful sigh.

So peaceful is that sight
I might forget all my worries and frights.
Even through this hellish life
Past the concrete streets
and all its booming sounds
Do I find that beautiful background
Of the valley and its windy trees.

Details | Ashley-Nicole Todd Poem

End of Summertime

On a misty, foggy October morning
a low, cold wind spreads the smell of burning bark
slashed from our forest trees.

As the haze builds
the town contorts into Sleepy Hollow,
now the Headless Horse Man is expected to follow.

There, falls the sounds of dew and rain
and the birds that begin to awake
but the leaves and the trees are as still as can be.

Through the misty dew can I still see
the red and the orange and the green
of falls changing leaves.

Then I check my calendar screen
for the end of Summertime creeps
ironically on Monday's eve
wrenching us into the season of Hallows Eve.

Details | Ashley-Nicole Todd Poem

Don't forget too

Pay attention to the beats and drums of those who've won
and lost the war on simple thoughts.
They think not 
of a thing simplistically complex.
From this and to that
can we tug our hearts
at the thoughts we must bare
at the sounds we must hear
from the sights we must swear
that beyond our senses and screens 

so far that we’d not mistake bombs for thumps of fallen trees


and gunshots on New Years Eve



or violence as but a slight squeeze...

Details | Ashley-Nicole Todd Poem

Ode to the heart

Yes, the one that pumps the thickened wine.
Craved by the creatures of the night.
Intertwined through complex lines.
Kept from a keepers sight.

O’ the centre of a lovers quarrel
In heaps of passion do they come!
Tearing the lining, for blood to be drained.

But in those slow moments of throttle
Through gaining beats of candied drums
Do two souls vow to reclaim their lost veins.

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Your world in my garden

I was a seed in soil
snugged in the womb of my Mother Nature
ready to shine under rays and rain
to sprout my fruit and shake my leaves
to grow a thick spine and wrinkle under heat
to greet the wind under waltz and words
until the breeze whispers me to sleep.
I intend to be nurtured by the elements 
in chaotic destruction and scenic growth
for my earrings to hang low 
on the branches of my cherry tree.
Low, so animals may eat 
Low, so they may pick 
and choose the ones they desire most.

I was a pearl in their world of oysters
tucked in a bed of pleasures
rested in an ocean of treasures,
crafted
to be selected
for the beauty of riches
strung from lace
on the napes display
attracting the eyes of suitors and the envy gaze.

I was a root
ripped from my youth
and all my innocent fruits
fell from heights of doubt
and begat the chance to sprout
again and again had I prayed
for a dove or another love to come my way
in a dream or from above
i’ll sit in your garden of bluff
i promise to not move a single grove
just tell me i’m beautiful once more
just before i have no choice but to go.

Details | Ashley-Nicole Todd Poem

Too selfish to survive

Isn’t there a selfish desire we all crave for?
Purely for the trenches of our minds
Roaming in the realms of our hopeless reality.
What accumulates and what festers there
Is all good and all evil
Its total usage of power and of brute and of control.
Balance is forbidden 
Sharing and caring are ripped at the roots
No universal laws are attached
Only the laws one enacts as universal.

What festers in my own
Is a hunger for impeccable strength
Muscled to my core and a core of vigour
Of mind and of body.
To be invincible is to sit above all that destroys man
If such an ache could erect this desire
The elements would be of my control
And every right I would declare pious
And every regret would be food for the maggots.

What accumulates the creation 
Of this wanted deception
Is no matter of good nor evil, but fear.
We are the new humans of a new poverty
Of anxiety and dread and distress.
We look to survive with the future in mind
Surviving incidents that have yet to occur
But we think we know it will.

I despise my weak physique
My lack of sense infuriates me
How they interact with the world frightens me.
I want to live in the other world
Striking fear into those who harm me
I want my wants to exist
In this realm of limited and impossible laws
I just want to live the better version of me
To save me from all of you
Don’t you want that, too?

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As we keep moving

A blue and purple horizon
	Lines the sky as
Dark waves in the slumber winter.
	Living room palm trees
And royal ferns
	Are just the fraction of the plants
My mother asked me to care for.
	Cars and planes rumble 
Foreshadowing the day
	Of our Earth’s rotation.
We move to bleed, to talk, to ritualise
	That we are alive
That we are here to stay
        That we are always inaccurate
And not always so authentic.
	So, welcome this new day
And all the hand we have to shake.

Details | Ashley-Nicole Todd Poem

To Be Scared of Fun Is Scary To Enjoy

i only go so far through the fields 
to see the dying sunflowers and their dried grain
and to stare at the end of the road
for which i believed was the edge of the world. 
i avoid the grown apples and pear trees
as i assume ill commit thievery 
as well as the cowardly trait. 
i wait until the night falls 
where no lawful eyes wonder. 
i limit myself where limitation is not needed
i seek safety where it is already safe. 
i do not push the limits of my life because i am scared of what i will encounter in the light
but foolishly,
i will walk through the dark 
near an ocean cliff than the empty fields of daylight autumn   
because standing on the edge of death excites my poor heart than the little beauties the world has given me.

Details | Ashley-Nicole Todd Poem

A Devil that dared

The return to youth was what he brought me back to, but this was the issue. I've attempted leaps and extensions far away from my youth. From its eternal beauty and ego-driven agility and the experiences I’ve come to associate with my youth, I wanted it to be a defeated foe and a forgotten friend. 
     Creating these moments with him was a bliss I bathed in for I felt invincible once again. We jumped continuously even: as our feet and knees would bleed, jumping from one lake to a rushing river, then a stable pool, but I knew it would end with us in the sea, being pulled in by a deadly rip current and out into an unknown destiny. I was not forced, but rather enticed by my own adrenaline into the impossible. His home is walking on roads with racing cars and sleeping with hungry lions on colosseum floors. His friends are the tornados and storms he chases for a little bit of fun. Even as it bounds down his path like a sudden stun gun.
     It was imperative I would not face these conditions again, as I once did as that naive girl. He is inept to face the mortal man he is, the one who will be hit by the fast cars, eaten by the starving lions and impaled by a wooden stick in the eye of the storm. 
     I came to face this before I went farther down his path, but I could never be the one to pull him back, only to grab his hand when he reaches out to me; to be his man. His flaws are not mine so I could not share any of my vices to his, but I can be his voice out of it. If he wants to live in the fictional world, I can be the old man with wisdom as he trudges through his heroic journey of fighting villains by striking swords and claiming victory in barren lands. Maybe that damsel in distress he is tasked to safe and whisked away in a marriage that will last forever in his fictional state.
     As I learn to push these temptations away, I start to reminisce. He took chances even in a sensationalised world of vanity and deception. It was a twisted reality that only we partook in and let others voyage as squires. He whispered in my ear the passion he wanted to share for the eyes of lenses and greedy gossipers. But in the end, that swig of passion that cameras captured would merely be a flash of a fading memory. What is left is remnants of a shrunken grape; it can be considered a raisin, but not as we’d imagine it to be nor what we may accept. It is what is left of our wild love and crazed life that we care to take advantage of. We will create scenes to kiss and touch for meaningless entertainment. We will gaze as two characters rather than as two people with a real love story. We will laugh and cry to stories of lies for others to study, but truly we laugh and cry for all the memories we once created as two people on that spiral from passionate madness nearly into the unknown reality.