Leslie Philibert

Leslie Philibert Poems

In the night the moon got stolen
lunatics shook their fists at empty heavens,
cats stared at holes in the dark night
and seas turned into lakes, tides refused,

As if the pale stones
share the warmth
between two sides;
sea and field cut,

You are the burnt map of Summer
black-edged with lost words
that make the heat a blanket

Early darkness; as oil we drip on tarmac,
a gathering in black fallen from the sky.
With lemon faces we shadow the next.

Doors moan like lovers, as compassion flows
like sick over scrubbed floors.

Controlled circumstance of pity,

Stones are family. They move in earth and water and are so strong
they cannot be beaten. Stones live within themselves without fear.

They change in winter through ice and in summer through sun.

China will be declared part of the Peoples Republic of Tibet;
Somalia will send food parcels to the Swiss and the Mexicans will build
a fence to prevent illegal immigration from the United States. There
will be a Queen in Saudi-Arabia and Pussy Riot will be elected to

Exactly the right colour, the perfect amount of milk
one of Mum`s specials, as we gathered round the table
in the kitchen and put the pictures together,
the blue lights and the friendly doctor, who asked

Fat books and dead poets
Scattering in envy over my floor

Each backless like a flipped crab

Outside I hear the sounds of children,
the sounds do not get louder or softer,

just a small stone in the hand of a morning,
legs splayed and weak obscurely in cotton,

There are many questions that worry mankind
Has Katie`s sister got a lovely behind?
Is there life on Mars? , or even in the States?
Will Obama and the Iranians ever be mates?

Working the wet earth,
bonded by standing water, as expected
I do not find ghosts,
but a layer of small stones and black roots.

A forest without moonlight
A moon with no light
If there would be moonlight
there would be the shapes of trees.

How can I
go forward to Spring
when you left me
in Winter?


A carriage full of dried moths, faces sour with old leather,
a midnight softness, perhaps a glass in water, slowly,

and you speak of love in the conjunctive,

Two rooms at night
One light, one dark
But both full of stars


as wood is grey and bricks red dust
fallen beams church each space
as pigeons dance under slate

The snow in the courtyard brings
a new shape each day; no sense in the melting,
but I have not attended to this.
A girl waiting at a station, with smiles.

The Alps make me embryonic,
the King of sleep, the wind
a sea inside my ears;


strong breezes in a familiar house,
corridors full of leaves
torn curtains across broken windows,

mirror face.

Leslie Philibert Biography

I am a social worker, poet and musician living in Bavaria in Germany.Born in London, I studied English Literature in Ireland before moving to Germany to work as a social worker. I am married and have two sons.)

The Best Poem Of Leslie Philibert

The Night The Moon Got Stolen

In the night the moon got stolen
lunatics shook their fists at empty heavens,
cats stared at holes in the dark night
and seas turned into lakes, tides refused,

And songwriters hit the wrong keys
while lovers went home for an early night,
words were not whispered in ears nor
arms thrown across shoulders in first joy.

Have no fear for this lost face in the sky,
the lady that shimmers over standing water.
Aurora will bring the slow return of dawn,
Libertas will free this stolen moonlight.

Leslie Philibert Comments

Frank (popeye) Pulver 07 April 2013

Mr. Philibert, thank you for helping with some of my errors on some of my poetry. I am here to say that we use very differents styles of poetry. I have only been writing my poetry for a few years and it helps me get out some of my feelings so I do not forget them in life. I am person that forgets a lot of things in life pretty easily. As poets we try to pour out the feelings from our hearts and souls. This is what helps me in my daily life, I have a life that was almost taken from me so I am trying to make the most of it by writing down my thoughts. I hope that when I leave this place in life that my children will see the work that I done in my life. So please do not criticize a poet's work. We might not see their ideas but we still need to respect them for their work.

3 2 Reply
Philo Yan 15 August 2012

Your poems are thought provoking and I have to read it a few times and reflect your meaning.

1 3 Reply
Yvonne Rautenbach 14 August 2012

re 'Hospital' absolutely brilliant..must find time to read more of your poems later

1 3 Reply
Aivilo Gnuoy 08 August 2012

Your poems are well written and I enjoy reading them!

1 3 Reply
Kayoko Kan 11 July 2012

I enjoy reading your poems- a vivid blend of descriptions that enrich the mind, thanks.

1 3 Reply

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