Leslie Philibert

Poems by Leslie Philibert : 232 / 334
Sketch - Poem by Leslie Philibert
Cold. Stars. A breath you can see.
Hills stand round a village like ignored guests
at a reception.The lights of the street fail; they obey not.
The second; the sleet forces my face down
to the wet road. It is nearly time.
The end; I return to a home that kicks me.
Cold. The stars ice. Midnight.
Poems by Leslie Philibert : 232 / 334
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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Leslie Philibert's Other Poems
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- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
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- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
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- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
Spare and cutting style in keeping with the bleak subject. I like the image of the hills as ignored guests. (Report)Reply