Leslie Philibert

Veteran Poet - 1,122 Points (6th March 1954 / London, England)

All Saint`s Day - Poem by Leslie Philibert

A bleached evening, grey
my memory follows me into the cold

the ice records my steps, and peeks
at my afraid progress.

I lay in humility on the damp earth
a priest unable to bear the face of God,

the trees make a lot of noise, the feel as
important as a kestrel in balance with the sky

my face is a forgotten piece of washing on a line
as stupid as a lonely dancer in the wind.

Nothing can be created, all that is holy has been
turned into foulness, gold and silver behind glass.


Comments about All Saint`s Day by Leslie Philibert

  • Rookie - 140 Points John Brown (9/16/2012 6:20:00 AM)

    This is an intriguing one Leslie, but I'm not sure I quite 'get it' I'm a bit thick sometimes. I had to read it though, as I used to attend a school called All Saints. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 16, 2012



[Hata Bildir]