Esther Leclerc Poems

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!
...

Touch of thin silk
the color rose
bed steeped in the
scent of her repose
...

she makes music

in his bed
...

Silence or screams,
no in-between...
a hard place to grow,
with nothing to know
...

Dreck writes itself,
caring not, says 'What the heck'
to all this rot - - that is, the thought
that words can mean an awful
...

Open up
Lose that fear
Take a chance
Won't you, this year
...

It is funny, isn't it,
how fast one can go
from joy to sorrow
down life's twisty road.
...

What is a good guy, she wanted to know.
The other said, 'In my experience, 'tis he
who never hits you whether high or low;
he comes home from work to watch TV;
...

hope dies hard, it is said
always I agreed
knowing this truth for myself
but
...

Catching your eye as we stroll through the crowd
I squeeze your hand and whisper...

Watching a movie packed tight with strangers
...