Leo C. Jones
Biography of Leo C. Jones
Writing poetry suddenly became my passion after being heavily exposed to literature upon stepping in college.
I think it's a very profound way of expression, the beauty of words and measurements that I can't quite explain, but still love doing.
Leo C. Jones Poems
There you are, a stone's Throw away Seemingly inches, fleeting bits of space But miles and miles and more at the very least
'Why is it we love? ' We often ask. 'Why do you love her? ' He is asked
I once said I would think of you always I'd get you
The Unfortunate Difference Between Frenc...
French is the language of love and it is love I wish to speak of
The Mamihlapinatapei They Shared
The usual setting: A public pub, Or someone’s party Or a park in the fall,
Re-Rolls Exist Only In Board Games
You were the road not taken The turn I could have took My biggest 'what if.' The die was cast and they clattered on the board
The Coffee Machine Is Broken Inside
Four thirty, Barely morning, My day starts before the day starts. I bathe,
A Rainy Morning In A Tropical Country
I wake up to a rainy morning. The pits and pats Pitter and patter on my windows
White-washed walls And white-washed curtains White-washed halls White, clear and certain.
One Way To Look At It
On a folded piece of crumpled paper, Torn from a notebook, Was a hasty mess.
An Conditional Love
I love you If you tell me Now you’ll give The moon to me
There you are, a stone's
Seemingly inches, fleeting bits of space
But miles and miles and more at the very least
And I see them: the others.
I think of them with envy,
They are lucky.
Why the unpaved dirt roads of theirs and