Have you ever thought
to look at a kitchen pot?
What are all the wonderful
things it's held tender and hot?
© A. Leigh
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 2:38 AM UTC
Beyond the field and over rugged terrain
I see a woman. She stares back and then off
into the distance where the tree tops move
and the flowers grip the earth trying to survive.
There is a storm closing in. Furling, whirling
channeling my inner tempest, I scream
warning about those who wander on this path
But it is lost and muted - overruled by forces
stronger than I.
These gusts of fury. They grit their teeth and teach
in wicked ways. And for a moment, I look away.
I want to harness these changing winds. I want to
capture their uncertainty and potential destructions.
I look ahead for damage, but the woman is gone
and I am alone.
© A. Leigh
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 4:07 PM UTC
Billowing with green
The brook cuts the landscape in half
I too, am divided
© A. Leigh
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 11:44 PM UTC
I loved you like spring
blooming and full of flowers
sunshine on days with warmth
under trees, cool like the evening
breeze, or rain sometimes for days
as if we should just stay inside
and cry
© A. Leigh
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 10:46 PM UTC
What are the good of words?
We write about love about
life about lust about longing
— yet you:
He is
the essence of a sunny day
I am speachless
© A. Leigh
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 4:22 PM UTC
. into love
sprung and newly colored
like young birds — surprise fall
suddenly
once and all in or none leaving
here now we go down to go up
head first
breaking barriers escape into new
territory and oh! these heights !
just let go
as if they told us how to forget
it's you — jump soar, fly! I'm ready
now everything always and all
at once
© A. Leigh
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 3:38 PM UTC
Feeling
fast, feet first
walk in slow
I wade water waiting
He is the rocks beneath
He is the ice cold current
Swift, I am swept into danger
Quickly, I lash out thrashing splashing
I gasp for air, respire; to keep inhaling - gulp!
it fills my lungs, gently, as if serene I begin to die.
© A. Leigh
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 9:33 AM UTC
How easy to
give ourselves over in skin and
sentimental patterns yet thoughts
traced in darkness dishonest and
daunting as if our bodies could really
tell lies
© A. Leigh
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
Cold red roses like
when the tips turn black and
the edges start to wither. His
fury — words of ice. These
shattered illusions of subtle
situations gone astray. He is
the read betweens. He is the
metaphor that lingers. It cuts
deep and this time there is no
going back.
© A. Leigh
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 2:31 AM UTC
Simple distractions. The ease
of subdued conversations. We lie
to one another because we lie to
ourselves first.
These exchanges —
what really is the hidden meaning
behind these overzealous accusations
and forthcoming of presumptuous
acts?
What is truth in subtle subjection's
and altruistic annexations? We cannot
sleep at night. The most evolutionary of all
humanly cycles—broken. Are you broken?
I am.
© A. Leigh
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 10:31 PM UTC