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Best Poems Written by Ashley Poort

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

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

An Apalling Example of Near-Rhyme, Or Pop Poetry I

Lines composed in dejection
of embarrassing rejection
have a tendency to be
even duller than the seeds
of Stalin’s rise to power,
and more ruthlessly taxing,
and on the psyche vexing,
than the whole of the Holodomor.

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

The Beach House

I’m building castles in the sand
on the shores of a grey, grey sea.
The clouds have gathered overhead
and the shells are wave-washed clean.
Footprints wander down the shore
of the vast and vacant sea,
the waves are buffing them away
and turning the sand sateen.
Beyond the berm and the waving grass
inked upon the setting sun,
someone sits in a house of glass
as sand through fingers runs.

I’m watching seabirds dodge the stars
when the waves reflect the moon
and pulling seaweeds from the rocks
they drearily festoon.
And the sand’s run out of the fingers now,
and the drink’s run out of the cup;
the house of glass is quiet now,
all the shutters drawn up.

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

Ode To Espresso

Oh, Espresso, we praise you!
We kneel before the machine.
In awe of this ambrosia, this caffeine!
Oh, Espresso, giver of life, conqueror of sleep—
Our saviour at midterms when we must dig deep.
Oh, Espresso, our morning star, and afternoon routine,
Almighty, omnipotent, sacred bean!

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

Epitaph

Where can I go to bury love?
To the cemetery at dusk when the mist softens
Further the already worn corners of granite markers?
“Beloved Father and Friend”
“Cherished Wife”
Sister, Brother, Son, Daughter—
What will my epitaph read?
Here lie the ashes of a life remade
Time and time again.
No epithet or adjective,
For ephemeral forms like the scent of lilies,
Clinging to each form and shape, permeating the air;
I can be whatever the sun makes of me:
Rain, fog, snowflake kaleidoscope.
But enough—
Through the weeds and the overgrown plots
To the mausoleum where all the old loves lie.
Each crypt contains the remains of
Laughter and tears, midnight words and sunrise fears.
The memories of meetings between hands, eyes, lips—
And they make prayers as ghostly pilgrims do!
Tomb of cherished and forgotten things,
that I could not keep within the confines of this heart.
And here I lay to rest
The brush of your lips on my forehead,
The swell of your chest under the blankets in the dark,
The small furry warmth on my breast of your smile.
Someday, Friend, my bones will lie here too,
And all of the feverish hope and love will awaken,
Be reabsorbed and make me new.
But until then, there are miles to travel,
So many other crypts for loves to come.
Until then, pearl of my soul,
Adieu!
Wait for me in this storehouse of treasured things,
Do not mind the dust and the corpses
They were once treasure too.
Until I return to lay down what I have gained
And become one with what I have lost,
Here lie the ashes of a love remade
Until the fire scorched what it lit.
No epithet, no adjective,
Rest in peace until we meet again.

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

Card Game

The Queen of Spades trumps all
In our game of hearts
And other organs
Tangled in Greek and Latinate names
Ependymoma
Epinephrine
Endymion
Wake up, Shepherd!
The Black and the Red
Call you
Kings and Queens battle
The rules don’t allow for discarding
Draw from the deck,
Choking the progress with wheeling lights and coloured geometric shapes
Hearts
Spades
Diamonds
Like crystals
Crystal methamphetamine to make the cards fly faster
Clubs
Club the senses 
Introduce new shades, purple kush
Orange and yellow sunrise
Swirling blue and gold
Smoke goes up and enter the kaleidoscope.
Your kaleidoscope is white 
Fluorescent light
Perfect background to lay the tricks
Deal the hands
And take your pick 
Buy? Fold? Try again?
And when we’re done
We’ll pick them up, one by one
Put them in order again
And lay them away in the dark.
Sleep, Endymion.
The Queen with the black eyes is your sign
In dreams, everything is fine.

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

Blackmail

I hope you turn magenta and hyperventilate
over the lines I wrote for you.
They’re delightfully exotic
and delectably erotic,
and I swear, I only mention
your name a time or two.

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

Chastity Is Dead

If I kissed your collarbone
What would your expression give away?
Hip bones are more sensual I suppose—
But Diana was all ankles and wrists.
Arch your back, chaste Aphrodite, the Madonna turns away
Fingers should stay on necks and shoulder blades.

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

Cliche Kyrielle

This weary soul has toiled long
This heart has worn itself out in song,
Oh, Lord, have mercy on me.

This aching back, bent in the fields,
Working stony ground, and no profit yields.
Oh, Lord, have mercy on me.

I’ll cross those waters one fine day,
And this battered soul will fly away.
Oh, Lord, have mercy on me.

But till then I’ve got an axe to grind,
I’ll sow an’ reap and maybe find,
the Lord’ll have mercy on me.

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

Poem I

Bitter as wormwood or Turkish coffee,
absinthian abandon;
this passion stings and burns.
Cheeks blaze with the scarlet sign and stigma
and your teeth leave their signature on my hips.
Prudence we shed like the ash
tapped off my cigarette with trembling fingertips.
This bed is an ocean in which I choose to drown-
sore each morning from being
crushed by your waves.
Ninety-proof ecstasy
scalds as you swallow,
but you, oh so deliciously, melt.
The scars will be there only because the body
could not bear the pleasure that it felt.

Details | Ashley Poort Poem

Querido

Fell asleep and woke up screaming,
You were there beside me dreaming
While we lay with reality streaming
On either side of the bed.

Phantoms through my psyche streaking,
You held me close to still the shrieking
The weight of it set your bones to creaking
And started pounding in my head.

We know our senses are deceiving
The only truth is in believing
That victory is achieving
Indifference to the dead.