"bobbie" poems
The complexity of something simple in appearance. the attractiveness of something true in its deepest form. Beauty.
-Bobbie Leigh
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 1:49 PM UTC
Muse the Bobbie, Learned and Scrolling Mentor
For screening this Curtain to show our Task
Basic Words you exhume; Trust, a favour
Later allow us with some Sticks to bask
It takes much swallow to go back to School
And strip us bare with Her Majesty's Words
This how you Speak - With a Rod and a Fool
But then, who cares? Forgans are for the Birds
Now all it takes to supple your behalf
Modelled by the Mad Agent done and pleased
We empty our Fillers; and bid Avast!
Upon Graduation your Skills we take heed.
Thank you so much again, Mentor availed
Success is Reward; Laziness is Failed.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Unfamiliar face, with your touch that melts so warm.
Foreign bodies with the same intention, wanting more.
Exchanging breaths instead of words,
No expectations to be heard..
Lines blurred.
Asking nothing but a moment of euphoric selfless bliss
Just thrusts of lustful passion
with pain and pleasure in its midsts
Subtleness.
As we continue to succumb this yearning, pure desire..
this stranger doesn't feel so strange,
like a flame amidst the fire.
-Bobbie Leigh
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 9:54 PM UTC
Cloud that I float on, carry me to Peru
send to me exotic birds, bearing gifts of aqua blue
Lets take a detour through the mountains of Kandahar
for it doesn't bother me if I come out with battle scars
Oh please, oh please can we stop in Dharamsala
I have some questions to ask His Holiness, the Dalai Lama
Cloud, if its possible can we please time travel?
I want to see how they built the pyramids from dirt, stone, and gravel
Lets defy gravity, next stop Andromeda
being 2 million light-years away we'll see scores of space phenomena
Our next and final stop shall be a place called peace
take me there, please cloud, but on the way lets visit Greece.
-Bobbie Leigh
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
Two Sport-Souls in an Olive's Mood bereft,
The Dove surrenders my Hard-Painted Brush
It was once a Quill; Yet due out of Theft
Lost to my Abuse of that Season's Lush
I guess this is a Bite to Understand
More so from the Pool you Both were long Raised
Twice you, Madam, the Lion you took Hand,
Netting his Tender and stamped it in Praise
So just as I Advised your Prince since told
When Gummi Worms evolve into Sweet Snakes
Twisted, though no such Deed I did that bold
And asked the Bobbie to investigate.
On this Last Page turned, I sealed the Ream with Tape,
Checking out my Card your Library gave.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
When I put her out, once, by the garbage pail,
She looked so limp and bedraggled,
So foolish and trusting, like a sick poodle,
Or a wizened aster in late September,
I brought her back in again
For a new routine--
Vitamins, water, and whatever
Sustenance seemed sensible
At the time: she'd lived
So long on gin, bobbie pins, half-smoked cigars, dead beer,
Her shriveled petals falling
On the faded carpet, the stale
Steak grease stuck to her fuzzy leaves.
(Dried-out, she creaked like a tulip.)
The things she endured!--
The dumb dames shrieking half the night
Or the two of us, alone, both seedy,
Me breathing ***** at her,
She leaning out of her *** toward the window.
Near the end, she seemed almost to hear me--
And that was scary--
So when that snuffling ****** of a maid
Threw her, *** and all, into the trash-can,
I said nothing.
But I sacked the presumptuous hag the next week,
I was that lonely.
3.9k
Trillions of tiny warm pieces of coral, rock, and sea bones run smoothly through the hands and feet of one female being.
She sits upon the shoreline watching the way the tide and waves change...watching the almost reddish-orange sun set.
The sun that she is mesmerized by.
Mesmerized in such a way it causes her mind to open up, like a whales mouth when it's ready to satisfy it's hunger, looking almost as if its about to swallow the whole ocean itself.
With her brain burst asunder by the wonder of God's creation, she starts to think..thinking as she never did before, and putting thought into things that has never even crossed her mind.
Time is now infinite.
As hours pass, which seem like seconds, thoughts are no longer the only thing that surrounds her.
She is now accompanied by a Dream.
A dream which is as sweet as the very breeze that swifts across the ocean tops and embraces the most exotic extracts from the fruits and flowers around her.
A dream that cannot be expressed with words, but more rather jesters, thoughts, and actions...acts of love and uncontrollable feelings of desire and emotion.
Though in the deepest urge of reaching this dream, one never truly realizes how much pain, heartache, and sorrow one must endure to accomplish this ultimate beauty.
The understanding of this so called pain or love-sick criteria is, for some, too overwhelming for them to comprehend..and so we, me, you, or whomever simply just give up.
So truly, the strongest really do survive the pain love brings.
And so now, as the day becomes night, the sunset fades, and the oceans calm...that young female being heads back to another place of paradise, where she will lay her thoughts, dreams, and concerns on a pillow.
Yet as sure as the moon is forever, so was once a dreamer who is now the dream.
-Bobbie Leigh
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 1:45 PM UTC
So this is defeat.
This place in which helplessness and discontentment meet.
This off rhythmic step to a melancholy beat.
It seeps into the creeks where light once resided.
Confiding to no one the fears that I hide when shedding my tears in places pride cant thrive in.
Defeat.
This feeling that cant be beat nor destroyed.
This strong-force that makes all joyful things void.
In this world so dark and dim, I ask myself "where do I begin?"
How do I open the windows to my soul to shed the light in?
For it's harder than it seems... the fall of shattered broken dreams.
This place where self-destructive schemes and life's worn down seams meet.
Defeat.
-Bobbie Leigh
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
You...
Are reminiscent of my deepest dreams and desires
Inspiring me and seeing you in every little thing, I have found beauty in life itself
And in my coldest hour, thoughts of you ignite within me an eternal flame
An inferno tamed to the beat of our hearts, forgetting time and space
Filling in the blanks where our love first started
Until the last dawn, until the edge of the night...
You
By Bobbie Leigh
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
My fickle heart is confused.
For it longs for a place to call home, but much like a drone
It aimlessly drops bombs while moving along
My fickle heart is confused.
For it never had a reason to stop and stay
Much like the wind, it prefers to swing and sway
My fickle heart is confused.
For it's familiar with the motions of its ever-changing cruise
But you came along its path, and stopped it in its tracks
My fickle heart was confused.
Changing its beat while it roamed a few feet,
And then it met you, found love and it's muse
My heart is no longer confused.
A wanderer in every sense
The moment it found you was its biggest suspense
It was you all along, the words to my song
My heart remained still ever since
-Bobbie Leigh
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
*I would tell you all the things
we do while in my dreams
but it would only change the basis of our chemistry.
Will we remain just friends
while still sending lustful grins?
Please send me a sign, an epiphany.
I know it all too well
friends that turned lovers only to fail,
so how can I know for certain?
I guess for now we'll play this game
of dancing near enticing flames,
while we remain behind this curtain.*
-Bobbie Leigh
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
Reasons why I love you:
I love his eyes
I love his smile
I love his hands
I love holding his hand
I love watching him drive
I love playing with your hair
I love how you talk to much
I love how much your into music
I love when you were playing my violin
I love how he dresses
I love kissing you
I love just being with you
I love how you act like yourself
I love how you don't care
I love face timing you
Are skype convos
Your just the right size
Love your height
I love when you singed to me
I love your taste in music
Your funny
Sweet ( at times)
I love that you were my first
I love your hands even tho I already said that I really love them
I love laying with you
I love walking with you
I love being on top of him
I love how you came down to see me
I love the way you acted at the mall because how big it was
I love your snap chats
How your always ***** haha
I love how I dream about you every night
I love thinking about you
I love that I fell in love with you
I love dancing with you
I love hugging you
Are songs
Love that you stole my poster of Lucy hale
i loved dancing to dear Bobbie
Your just so cute
I love that you are just my type
I love that we held on for so long even after everything.
May 19th
May 26th
August 11th
I love that I'll never stop loving you
I love just the thought of you
I love how much I fought for you and always got you back
I love you shirtless
I love how sweaty we were even tho it was gross
I love you sleeping over
I loved laying on your chest
I love how you were at my house the whole day
I love are songs (again) but god are they amazing
I love thinking you loved me
The fact that maybe you did
I love you on top of me
I love grinding with you haha
I loved being in your room even tho you didn't clean it lol
I loved that one hour we had
I love how we were together all day
I hated seeing you go
I want more memories with you
Good and bad
I want to lay with you again
Kiss you again
Be with you again
And maybe that will never happen
But I'm in love with you
And maybe one day you will say the same about me
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
If your words were silent and the poetry of your declarations uttered mute, what other proof would I have of this thing called love?
I would gaze above looking into your eyes, but upon realization my hopes will quickly shatter
I would gather my words to call out your name, looking for your hands to join mine. Yet I will stand in disappointment only to find the emptiness that grasps at my fingertips
I would search far and wide, with my heart in tow, seeking wisdom from the blind
But my quest will be in vain, because the sad truth lies only in the love between my hips… where your love resides.
-Bobbie Leigh
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
Sitting 'neath an apple tree
In Edmond, Oklahoma
Thinking of the days gone by
And drinking my Corona
Body beat all black and blue
I've had less ups than I've downs
I guess that's just all that I get
As an old time rodeo clown
Should I say another season?
Is it worth what I will get?
Money, pain and broken bones
Those not broken yet
I've been gored by bulls in Texas
Stomped real hard in Abilene
But, I got my worst **** beating
By my ex, named Bobbie Jean
With a bull you see it coming
You just get out of the way
But Bobbie Jean sideswiped me
And I'll not forget that day
Put on some clown makeup
Some baggy pants, the game is on
But, I came home from one junket
And Bobbie Jean had up and gone
I wasn't set to find this
Fell in a bottle for a week
It wasn't bad she left me
It's that she took my hound dog, Zeke
That hurt more than any beating
I may have taken in the ring
I can take the biggest brahma
And the bruises it may bring
But, Bobbie Jean done hurt me
Blind sided me you'd say
I know I'll not forgive her
For taking my dog Zeke away
Now, I sit and ponder
One more empty by my side
Am I fit enough to stay here?
Can I stay for one last ride?
I know it's a sad story
Of a clown whose heart got broke
But beneath the colored face paint
I'm just an aging, sore cowpoke
So I sit beneath this fruit tree
In Edmond, Oklahoma
Pondering my future
As I drink one more Corona.
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
To crave the warm tender verbs of my lovers words...
-Bobbie Leigh
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
Crank the truck
Radios up loud
David Allen Coe
Sings out proud
Put it in gear
Head down the road
Willie sings
And lightens my load
If that ain't country
And whiskey river Take my mind
Send me down the road
New places I can find
Clint blacks next
At the stop sign
I sing along
Just killing time
Commercials now
Never stop I think
Then merle screams
Think I'll just stay here and drink
Country music gold
Radio clear and true
Hank Williams wails
***** tonk blues
Miles go bye
Thoughts of love inspire
Big john cash tells me
About a ring of fire
My ride is long
Where too?
The oaks chime in
With Bobbie sue
Singing and riding
Let the music ring
Waylon tells me
Bob wills is still the king
That may be true
But not what I say
Now George straits
Marina del rey
Circling back to home
And the end of my ride
Kiss an angel good morning
With Mr.. Charlie Pride
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
*One so full of sorrow, can seem quite bare and hollow
Like a heart without blood nor veins
or unoccupied snail shells,
they're all the same
Lifeless muted reminders
of how things use to be,
like winters frozen waters
reminiscing of flowing seas
Though in the mind of one so saddened
one can always hope for change,
for life's ever-shifting ways
account for everything good, bad, and strange
-Bobbie Leigh*
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
Her parentage was a thing of considerable comment
Though a good deal less circumspection,
Mama's identity relatively sure, as everyone knew her mama,
Her father one of a laundry list of unpromising gardeners,
Yet she was a child of grace--no, more than that
An outlier in every sense of the word,
The dazzling unintended consequence
Resulting from a series of unwise and unhappy choices.
She sauntered (though there are those romantically inclined sorts
Who would insist she outright floated,
Her feet rarely if ever touching ground)
By the courthouse in Okolona most afternoons,
And though her dress was from the house of Ralston and Purina
And her jewelry courtesy of Sailor Jack and Bingo,
She neither shrunk nor slunk self-consciously
Nor walked with eyes ablaze and fists clenched,
In a manner asking Mebbe you wanna make sumpin' of it?
Simply walked her own walk,
Such things as poverty and pedigree
Trvial matters beneath her concern,
Though she was always provided for, as a seemingly chosen child,
Judge Hibbard giving her a store-bought doll from Jackson
When she turned seven, others providing her pop and bubble gum,
And later Miss Lucille Brisker sewed her a bright-blue silk dress
Plus gave her forty-two dollars for a Greyhound ticket
To Los Angeles via New Orleans
(When she hopped the bus in front of the K &B,
She gave her a peck on the cheek, and said
*Miss Lucille, you take care, but I doubt
I'm much likely to pass this way again.*)
Her whys and wherefores after that were lost to time and tide:
Perhaps she made it in L-A, perhaps she thought else-wise
And hopped off the bus in Hattiesburg or Bogalusa
Though most were of the opinion that it mattered little if at all,
As she allowed them, leastways for a little while,
To be in her orbit while she shone in such a manner as pleased her.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
Don’t act like you stuck to me.
Don’t ever show love for me.
Maybe hear and there during ***********
I doubled back.
I’m not giving up.
At least two times a day, I be cooking up.
Died in the car but I’m brave.
I need to saved.
The last life played me.
Now I’m on a test run;
Learning quick as I go.
Feeling I’m running out of time with my babies.
I’m forever scared up.
Really gave up on love.
And I’m not waiting.
Forever my guard’s up.
Really by myself.
I was never just saying.
I carry a lot on my shoulders and head, but still I’m only just one man.
Tell who’s loving you better than me.
Who can **** wit me, tell me?
Just go ahead, let me know that I’m sharing.
If you honest I could never be jealous.
You sexing my bros.
Please don’t start me up.
How could I fall in love?
Truly back stabbed, I’m a warrior.
My next album for Aria.
Deserve it all, but how can I get it?
Dark places and spaces, I’m tripping.
Can’t trust a soul, and my life I can’t mention.
I ain’t even got brothers to witness.
Never had friends and I’m popping prescriptions.
Until I return, what comes with it?
Really been feeling defeated.
You never can learn me, just listen.
Checked out.
My hearts been evicted.
Volcano erupted, no limit
Like many, I beat myself up, Bobbie and Whitney.
The judge gave me an extension.
Went through every emotion to be in position.
No more striking out, I’m only pitching.
Until I return don’t miss me.
I’m tired of feeling so empty
And falling hard.
Aug 31, 2022
Aug 31, 2022 at 8:21 PM UTC
1.
There goes Hooker’s nose
Larger than life, breathed in
“Majestic, it sprang” from his face
“The marvel of time, the wonder of men”
Molded by the General and his
lyrical men
2.
Whip Bobbie Lee you may,
for this miracle happened
in the strangest way
in the meadows,
in the bright of day
three invaluable cigars lay
3.
Some men smart in ways unimagined,
appear as Janus in the midst of kings,
feign blunder to catch the unsuspecting plunderer,
who waltzes right in (or away) from his fate,
******* the grit out of men, they lose faith
4.
To His right is the good thief
and he inclines his head
But a thief is a thief, nonetheless?
5.
Two-hundred-ninety-nine-hundred-two men are in the cornfield, their mouths silently forming hurrahs and their hands slack at their sides.
Two-hundred-ninety-nine-hundred-two-men are ****** eagles of Indiana.
6.
“No shock can destroy”, the carnage of Shocksburg
“The world shall behold”, “the triumph of”
“Tyranny, sorrow, and darkness”
“Hurrah for the” “dream
of a madman, the song of a fool.”
7.
McClellan sees double, no, triple.
And Lincoln, victory where there isn’t.
And I, beauty where one should not.
8.
Let men become crusaders, emancipators, and proclamators,
of all things and
all things good and just.
9.
Your arms resemble corn stalks and your eyes
poppy seeds. Spread-eagle yourself, at the mercy of
the Kingdom of Heaven.
Say your last Hurrahs and clutch that laundry tight
to your chest.
10.
Disillusioned people get nowhere, at least illusioned people can
walk themselves over to the doors of Death?
11.
Samuel is like many other black laborers in the infantry-- mistaken in the most wonderful way.
“Hurrah! for the Union” he says.
and I begin to teach him how to write.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 9:13 PM UTC
Step lively, now, as good news is not of a mind
To wait upon delay and dithering
Nor to pay any heed to your day's peculiar grace
The ticket for your promised land
Is one-way only, and you need to clutch it
For all you are worth, and travel light;
If it don't fit in a paper sack, you don't need to take it along,
No need for any suitcase
Packed with your yesterdays, your Yes, ma'am,
Your No, sir, your Might I have my pay, sir?
Because your satin-shoes, lose-your-blues,
Done-paid your- dues day comes just once
And once only, so you best move with some dispatch, child.
Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 5:10 PM UTC
There was that day
All hands were held
Anticipation in air
Then as we gathered
Closer without a peep
The magic thus began
Now your in front of us
A small soul in two hands
Will never forget emotions
Those surrounding us all
Not one word to describe
Guess we'll call her Bobbie
And all agreed with a tear
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
(preface to constipation)
way before aye knew
the name Fletcherism applied
tummy uncommonly (recherché) atypical dyed
in the wool feeding and/or slaking thirst guide
did precepts sans hungry
deaf eating beast impossible to hide
(the ferocious growling harassing imp -
armed to the figurative teeth ready to pounce
viz casus belli sans reeling off
a pseudo say id dish us vicious jeremiad
me, this unrepentant conscientious masticator,
who re: lied
on self control unbeknownst
to this pumpkin eater
unwittingly followed
the basic tenet of Fletcherism - custom made
modus operandi vis a vis exercising okayed
mandibular metered (when famished),
eyes kept closed while tongue gently played
adhered to practice of eating small amounts,
which discipline stayed
engorging self, and as a result
(consuming sustenance
only when hungry avoiding
(wolfing like an instantaneous blitz krieg flash)
found me aware visa vis master car ding
marginal increase in pounds meaning
thy body electric weighed
approximately for long stretches
when a habitue at one or another dining digs
stuffed nibbling on hors d'oeuvre figs
adequately satiating with with oomf
when contra dance caller Scott Higgs
announced "hands four," which signal
helped get my mojo back
and reel lee deuce home jigs,
which kickstarted, syncopated,
oft times espying Bobbie Riggs
who years gone back **** Vic Tory huss
e'en when donning apparel of Whigs
like colluding trump petting molecules
that via tiff ***** doth zags and zigs.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC