Biography of Leslie Philibert
I am a social worker, poet and musician living in Bavaria in Germany.Born in London, I studied English Literature in Ireland before moving to Germany to work as a social worker. I am married and have two sons.
Leslie Philibert's Works:
I have published a large number of poems on the internet
and will shortly have a book of poems published.My poems
are availible on a large number of internet sites.If you
wish to publish any of my poems please contact me at
email@example.com. All of my poems may be
used without cost, simply ask for permission.
Leslie Philibert Poems
A Dry-Stone Wall Near Coleraine (For Sea...
As if the pale stones share the warmth between two sides; sea and field cut,
Fat books and dead poets Scattering in envy over my floor Each backless like a flipped crab
The Fox Children Of Winter
Stolen the faces of lost children they are as old as frost and oak. Creeping under the thin wind they wail at the bitten moon.
My Heart Is As Big As A London Bus (A Po...
My heart is as big as a London Bus Some buy a ticket; some travel free For all there are seats right next to me My heart is as big as a London Bus
Under Brighton Pier
Seaweed to scare you, septic green, triangles of a half ship failed, full of salt and tide,
The Crystal Palace Is Burning
You do not expect glass to burn, letting out the fire trapped in panes white light having been caught before. But it does.
Mantis girl, all legs and arms, a mess of open wounds. Too many mouths open, too many blank eyes. Femina juvenilia. A pink heap in
softnote saxophone botex for the soul, strained faces only
And when the earth Is ill with shale Each day will blister From a pitch-dark shadow
A Winter`s Ending
The snow in the courtyard brings a new shape each day; no sense in the melting, but I have not attended to this. A girl waiting at a station, with smiles.
The Night The Moon Got Stolen
In the night the moon got stolen lunatics shook their fists at empty heavens, cats stared at holes in the dark night and seas turned into lakes, tides refused,
A Night On A Beach (Translated And Adapt...
Starless and cold the night; the sea foams; flatly over the waves the changed north wind tells a story. A stranger approaches a hut; the fisherman`s daughter next to a stove;
The end of a white road; pearlwort in a stone square, cold and calm the wind. The tanning of a whale; seals at dance
Breathwing (For Sophie Scholl)
so as they took you down the concrete corridor as if you were going to be married you must have been scared and full of rain stadelheim is too hard
When the silence is as taut as a violin string
the rest awaits as you climb past the invitation
of an open window, your day in shopping bags
that redden the joints of your hands, as if you
wait helpless at a busy junction, the heavy trucks
that throw warmth and grit in your face,
this is graceless, like worn slippers under a hospital bed