Leo Yankevich

Silver Star - 3,448 Points (October 30,1961 / Farrell, Pennsylvania)

Leo Yankevich Poems

241. Ah, Love 2/6/2009
242. Onion Snow 11/12/2008
243. Philosopher 9/20/2004
244. Eastertide 9/22/2004
245. Tikkun Olam* 7/27/2010
246. At A Suicide’s Grave(1869-1897) 8/13/2009
247. Six Feet Beneath The Snow 2/20/2015
248. Black Ops 2/9/2016
249. Tattie Bogle 1/28/2013
250. Babcia 4/10/2011
251. A Warning To Dissidents 3/6/2006
252. Apollo’s Archaic Torso 5/4/2008
253. The Garrett Loft 6/7/2011
254. Ludwig Wittgenstein Visits George Trakl In Hospital, Cracow,6 November 1914 8/13/2009
255. Sarajevo Sonnet 7/27/2010
256. Heraclitus 3/16/2009
257. Moscow,1928 7/27/2010
258. The Birdman 5/7/2008
259. After 20 Years Of Marriage 5/12/2009

Comments about Leo Yankevich

  • Margaret O Driscoll Margaret O Driscoll (7/13/2015 4:10:00 AM)

    Glad I checked out your poetry, just read Mother In The Garden and it nearly had me in tears!

    9 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Amir Mohammad Islami Chalandar (6/6/2014 7:51:00 AM)

    excellent poems. you are great in explaining your feels. i invite you to read my poem

  • Dennis N. O'brien Dennis N. O'brien (10/27/2012 6:04:00 PM)

    Thanks for posting your poems here - I enjoy reading them.
    Best wishes
    Dennis N. O'Brien

  • Michael Shepherd (9/21/2004 8:13:00 AM)

    Leo - I am moved by and admire your poems enormously. Will you tell michael@shepherd87.fsnet.co.uk if you have published, or intend to publish? Best wishes.

Best Poem of Leo Yankevich

After 20 Years Of Marriage

Here is a river with a little boat
moored beside its bank. The boat's the colour
of oranges in the south of Greece, all bloody
and ripe with sweetness, while the bank's the colour
of meadows in the north of France, deep green
with a heifer's downy mane, a country rose.
Love, I shall never take you to those places.
I've squandered all my gold upon the water,
which for you mirrors the eternal sun.

Read the full of After 20 Years Of Marriage

Racked Beauty

Blest be the dawn, the luminous blue-slate,
the arch transfused by the glorious sun,
and blackbirds chanting hymnals in prickly bushes,
and rooks high over fields coughing up love.

Blest be the winds about the furrowed brow,
and the joyful whispers of dying leaves,
the maples staggered blissfully behind barbed fences
above the tombs of the newly redeemed.

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