Leslie Philibert

Bronze Star - 2,826 Points (6th March 1954 / London, England)

Donegal - Poem by Leslie Philibert

A line of stones,
the threat of so much space,
a fallen horizon.

Salt grass
coarse with rain,
nights heavy with tides

and the battered steel
of the sea, the broken gong
of the moon, strange friends.

Then, I know not what to call
the rought curves of peat,
slight of the sea,

a bodhran wind over the rocks.
When I am no more,
let me melt in the rain

of this cold coast,
its own name shaped,
the seagull`s call.

Topic(s) of this poem: death of a friend

Form: Prose Poem

Comments about Donegal by Leslie Philibert

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

Poem Submitted: Friday, March 27, 2015

[Report Error]