Leslie Philibert

Veteran Poet - 1,022 Points (6th March 1954 / London, England)

(the End) - Poem by Leslie Philibert

a river full of dead pigs
a burning moon
a child squatting in mud

was that it then, just that?
no trace of birth
or a cold tuber that might

seek helplessly your hands
wet with drops from a rusty tap
fingernails dark and underlined

that follow the trace of a fleeing star
an escape into the big black
over the wall, over the wall


Comments about (the End) by Leslie Philibert

  • Rookie - 326 Points Chris G. Vaillancourt (5/9/2014 9:25:00 AM)

    Very compelling write which held my interest throughout. I enjoyed the easy flow of the material. Excellent work. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 21, 2013



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