Biography of Esther Leclerc
2/2006: I've got to say, I'm not a poet and I know it! ... I'll try anyway, with the kind encouragement of new friends (thanks very) . - So. Cal girl till 21, salt water in my veins; - Married and have lived many lives overseas: Paris, Moscow, Manama, Canberra, London, Port of Spain (Trinidad) , and Frankfurt... Expect to go 'out' again next summer for a few more years. Travelled many other places. - I am very new to writing anything like poetry, but not to writing itself, something I've always enjoyed (for myself) . The poetry at this site is fantastic, and I am so happy to have been shown the way here. (Thanks, C.A.!) - Be happy, all! LITS for anything else...
Esther Leclerc Poems
A Perfect Fit
out of passion was crafted love
For One Who Mourns
Lil' firecracker, July child-to-be Another sunny redhead, she hoped in vain No, for you there were other dreams
A Poem For The Seeker
Will you find that which you seek Within the ruins of fire grown weak? Ashes blown from hearth to heart Choke life's breath, deaden its art.
Light And Darkness
houses house bodies bodies house life life houses souls
Chance And Change
For one ruined in love, the old status quo Offers comfort of a kind tho' cold. Suffering neglect, your heart is a wreck, Yet one's vow demands payment of debt.
Beauty Marks The Spot
Beauty marks are meant for kissing... This girl's are found in places pleasing: On her neck, scented and lissome, On rounded cheek with smile so teasing.
A Dream.Mmm Lover
Defenseless I lay, cuddled up snugly in bed; I'd done nothing to invite his appearance in my head Except to drink in the danger of manic eyes Earlier in the flickering light of his odd-guy guise.
She quietly said, 'Milton... I love you.' His light heart ballooned to the moon. She flew out - - 'So shy! ' he thought, but he knew That wedding bells would clanggg very soon.
Help Me, Sleep
Sweet, warm dark of night pull me in and hold me tight. Help me fight this awful scourge of sleeplessness, and the urge
Between Sleep And Wakefulness
Rising to the surface of morning altitude Often the awakening more than just a little rude
Introspection (The Curse Of)
Too much may make one mad (yet, too little can be as bad) . The more that you think (and think and think) the more you forget to wash - - you stink!
Five Senses In Love
Touch of thin silk the color rose bed steeped in the scent of her repose
A Night Song
she makes music in his bed
Doggerel, Drivel And Dreck (Oh My)
Dreck writes itself, caring not, says 'What the heck' to all this rot - - that is, the thought that words can mean an awful
I'm a Wanton
And what I'm wantin'
I'm a Wanton
(hear me coo!)
in public wantin'
a fat Won Ton
in my soup