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Best Poems Written by David Ashley

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

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Sonnet about sonnets

Rhyming in iambic, counting fingers
Trying to make sense, syllables dropping,
Onto archaic form, often lingers,
Instead of language, clopping and popping,
Modern with its sublime spoken diction,
Filled with colloquial noises and slang.
A beautiful work of spoken fiction
Caroused in exuberance and shebang.
But shouldn’t I just, stay to the meter,
And in its essence, play along in truth,
Finding its Shakespearian bleak feature
With rhymes jutting, strutting quite proud and crude.
The Sonnet seems, quite complicated,
But could it be really overrated?

Details | David Ashley Poem

Wild Cherry

Spring brought forth the dusting of grandeur
The blossom exploding from baring bud,
Showering lawns with lilac dander.
A benediction bound in nature’s love.
Branches laden, heavy with flowers
Sweet adulation in perfumed repose,
Beauty distinct fragrant overpowers
Consuming the senses is manic throes.
Then it fruits, its summery shift
To languish berries bright bursting red
For us to pick as the seasonal gift
Before the tree starts to Autumnal shed.
Start again your sleep encrusted with snow
Until the awakening when winter goes.

Details | David Ashley Poem

Butterfly

Flit and dance from flower to flower
Gossamer wings of printed art
Rapturous beauty overpowers
Instilling warmth in my beating heart.
Bold against the drab grey surround
You float unencumbered, light and free
A picture bursting with life expounds
If only you could be with me.
Save me from this boring day
Let me join on you on the wing,
To feel the freedom without dismay
Unshackled and absolved of sin.
Social butterfly, faerie infatuation deep
My heart and soul are yours to keep.

Details | David Ashley Poem

Home

“Wherever I lay my hat”, he said
Inferring home was there.
A state of belonging bound in felt
Anchored in darkest millinery.
He had his hat; his hat was home.
The putrid hostel beds and often doorways
Always home to him,
Never mind the ice-cold fingers,
Ripping at his worn sleeping bag
Storm after storm assaulted the city.
He was warm within himself.
He had his hat; his hat was home.
A security blanket, nursing his psyche
Hiding him away from the hideous reality
Where the discarded homeless was a norm.
Society, uncaring, dismissed him with a glance,
Pouring hateful derision his way
He had his hat; his only home.