Leslie Philibert

Bronze Star - 2,779 Points (6th March 1954 / London, England)

Leslie Philibert Poems

81. Autumn As Love Grows Old 10/19/2013
82. Steffie Looks Down The Corridor 10/17/2013
83. Kafka 10/24/2013
84. Taking The Old Lady Home 10/28/2013
85. The Peat Warriors 11/8/2013
86. Himmler`s Smile 11/9/2013
87. Mother 11/12/2013
88. Cat 11/15/2013
89. My Keys 11/21/2013
90. Church 11/23/2013
91. Lady Frost 11/29/2013
92. Sacrifice 12/1/2013
93. Love 12/4/2013
94. Clinic 12/8/2013
95. Eel 12/10/2013
96. Cry 12/18/2013
97. Die Feldkapelle 1/15/2014
98. Ghazal 1/24/2014
99. Lorna, King Lear And Portrush 1/29/2014
100. Corpus 2/7/2014
101. Hoar Frost 2/19/2014
102. Behind The Crucifix 2/23/2014
103. Cats 3/2/2014
104. Wrong 3/7/2014
105. Elegy For Les 3/13/2014
106. Some Wit For The Delight Of The Groundlings 3/18/2014
107. The Lost Poem 3/21/2014
108. Southeast Nineteen 3/28/2014
109. Priest 3/29/2014
110. A Murdered Girl Sleeps Next To The Motorway 4/2/2014
111. The Dead Poet 4/12/2014
112. Epileptic 4/18/2014
113. The North Is Winter 4/23/2014
114. What Is Happening To You Now 4/27/2014
115. Deontic Modality 5/1/2014
116. Cinema 5/3/2014
117. Evi On The Beach 5/8/2014
118. The Moon And The Burning Landship 5/14/2014
119. Copy Children 5/18/2014
120. Ostfront 5/23/2014
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.

Read the full of The Night The Moon Got Stolen

Jogger

Being chased by a ghost, the roots of his teeth
break with impact, joints tied together with string,
corpus filled with compressed breath.

He gasps stones, grit and smoke, an air maschine,
a wet, strained mask, the bottom of his lungs filled with silver.
His heart shakes like a shocked bird.

It is as if all things in the park have been stilled,

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