"leigh" poems
apricots and cigarette smoke:
your smile is infectious.
heat leaking through the little slit in the
window: melt like cool frosters on
a hot summer day - melt
into me
lets become solvent
in this little
car; (I wouldn't mind.)
combine together, like our parents
and parents before them. molecular;
everything, anything -
we are science.
I am not afraid, it is
you
who takes the air from
my gasping lungs; - look!
at his beauty; divine.
© A. Leigh
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
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
Little cracks like weeping windows
we grow opaque
and under the pale blue moon
(tainted)
you seep into my soul
© A. Leigh
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
Three little deer in the headlights, on
a nice midnight stroll, grazing
the neighbors grasses while I
wait patiently in the mini-van
for you to come find me.
He stumbles drunk, I can smell the
liquor before it reaches my automatic window
rolling down to let some fresh air through
these anxious, aching bones.
The night passes, not with ease
or grace, but with melancholy as
I look upon a ghost of my past, lying
quiet on the khaki tiled bathroom
floor, help
There's yelling and screaming, and I cry
myself to sleep for hours, while his once
happy, now dull eyes sit and watch
quietly, while tears stain my broken
smile, broken heart.
I muffle the sounds of my weeps with
the cotton blanket covering me, and
although thoughts swim through
my skull, there is nothing to say.
The silence echoes, though,
not out loud, but inside, and I
can feel the numbness taking over
once again. And it scares me, not
because I've lost you, but
because I've lost myself.
© A. Leigh
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 8:17 PM 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
Lumapit ka sa akin kapag nasasaktan ka na
Hindi ko tatanungin kung alin
Hindi ko hahanapin kung saan
Lalong hindi ako mag-aaksayang alamin kung pano
Yayakapin lang kita
Mainit na yakap na hindi mo naramdaman sa kanya
Mahigpit na yakap na hindi mo mararamdaman sa iba
Na sana kahit papano ay
Makapagpapaalis ng kirot
At magpaalala na nandito pa rin ako
Leigh Herondale October 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 1:59 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
Never fall in love with a poet.
They will break you apart
like stanzas.
You are a metaphor,
a simile, an oxy-
*****
Never fall in love with a poet.
They will tear you apart
like a rough draft,
burn you, and then
call it art.
© A. Leigh
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
she spits out hurt like fire
a dragon in her own flesh
what little can he do
but pull out a cigarette
he'd rather burn his lungs instead
to refrain from saying things simply
misread
© A. Leigh
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
Last night I dreamt I dug
a tunnel through the moon
and as she spun around the earth
I used it as my room
I'd sit upon the edge
dangling my feet out over the stars
tossing pebble stones and such
in aim of hitting mars.
© A. Leigh
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
We may be a tangent line
Meant to meet only once,
There is one thing i'm sure of tho
That moment I held your eyes with mine
I swear we were infinite
Leigh Herondale August 2015
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
I hate the word simple.
Everything is actually really
complex.
© A. Leigh
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
I don't feel it, You say. And, pray tell her
name, my sir, that i may find she thee and prithee
Bear me off to southern sounds, fallow fields,
an altar ground, a garland rope of singing springtime snows.
this may be more than i can--;;
YOU
ARE
NOT
WOR
THW
HILE
and i had such an awful dream last night--
you said, Bronwen, my love;
and i could not sweep her hair from the floorboards
beneath which you hid your ***** mags from mice.
because you tell me about it.
WHOAM?
you speak of gOd like dOgs & i am worthless coinage
in the sewers. the sewers find my dress still hanging from your bones.
your bones your bones your piano finger bones
kiss me again
until my lips swell my throat bleeds i do not want you to know how much i crawl spiderlike through the trails of hair in the drain as the autumn leaves the summer leaves the spring buds freeze over hell i am not i am not listening pan-drum please let me say this one last thing:;
he is your accordion player the ***** player man who speaks fluent french and inflected english he is your accordion player on the pipes-----
and you say i do not feel and i reply,
this is too bad too late, chuckle replay as your fantasy walks through the door my team my team she is porcelain lovely see the perfume in your synesthesia colorblind goat footed grandiose Cesar with epilepsy she is your dream she is she is she is!
&meanwhile; the trumpet in soul still plays solfeggio---
1 2 le 3 4 1 2 le 3---1 2 le 3 4 1 3--le 1 le 3 le 1
she is the discord of the seventh in the tenor line
she is membranes she is rain she is towels
LEIGH **** IT
if only if only you weren't so lonely i might call you mine and bring you back homely.
IF ONLY-----Charles weren't so busy while you
stare at silver spoons and cherub smiles
and cupid calls you home again.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 1:37 AM UTC
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
the dark is mysterious
I fell fast
the way the depth of his soul
danced in his eyes
like firelight
I was drawn to the shadows
doing tango on the walls
around my desperate, desolate heart
He was daring
I dabbled in the presence of
darkness
I liked being daunted
which was honestly, surprising
at first.
© A. Leigh
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
A flower is only sought after for as long as it is fresh and pretty
Don't be like a flower
Don't believe what they declare
We are not just a simple DNA
We are the universe summed up into one
Observe the rules but don't be submissive
Follow your heart but never lose your mind
Pick your own battles and fight it well
And everyday
Don't fail to recall
That you are a fighter
Strong, courageous, wise
Yet still so sweet and soft
Fair, Confident, Honest,
A woman of virtue and respect
You are stunning on your own
You don't need any guy to prove your worth
©Leigh Herondale October 2015
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
What is our state of existence?
( This I'd like to know! )
For smiles fade, for seasons change
for people come and go.
Think about our universe.
( a wee pebble in a pond! )
There's an entire space out there
but in seconds it could be gone!
If the sun were to actually
explode within our sky,
it'd take us nearly seven minutes
before we'd know
( then die ) .
© A. Leigh
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
I've always put my lovers
into a pen
Fuel for fire
Ink for words.
But no,
Those were not love
Not like this
For this is love:
the fire itself
and it has burned away all my pages;
previous chapters, titles and cover
Stripped bare
As it should
So here I stand in this raw rarity,
Speechless
While it burns and
burns and
burns
And I have never been happier
To watch flames
grow higher.
I have never been happier
To feel your warmth.
© A. Leigh
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
"Forever" is overused,
As well as "I'm okay",
"I love you" is a lie,
"I'm sorry" is ******* plain.
© Leigh Herondale July 2015
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
In the window of the pet shop
four small faces, lost.
Their owners, sick with worry,
want them found at any cost.
A quad of treasured family pets
roaming wild and free,
unmindful of the panic
they’re causing back in Leigh.
A sausage dog called Mini,
sleek and burnished dark.
She’s likely got a little voice
that is more squeak than bark.
Tinks: a sturdy Staffie,
with a plea on Facebook
praying for his safe return
his people beg you “have a look”
“in your sheds and garages,
or in the kids' playhouse.
You never know who could be there
‘cos he’s quiet as a mouse”.
A grumpy Border Terrier,
Underbitten, rough of coat
“Bill: a much loved dog, we miss him”
in shaky letters wrote.
And, last of all, would you believe
Someone’s lost their tortoise!
He’s been in the family since ‘77
(let’s hope he isn’t corpus).
For pets are no mere mortals,
nor fallible as we.
They’re up there on a pedestal,
in anthropomorphic fantasy.
Then one day they disappear,
our soppy hearts turn wretched.
No stick to throw, and if we did
none to go and fetch it.
On centre stage of family life
entangled in our tribe.
No separateness of species,
always by our side.
So if you’re there, or round about
And you should chance to see
Mini, Tinks or Billy
or a tortoise in his mid-thirties.
Tell the little pet shop -
it’s better late than never -
to mend an aching, wretched heart
who thought their best friend gone forever.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
If only for peace his swan song sighed
Amidst the gallant yet frightened few
With weary bones a heavy heart
Beat might when spied the resilient wharf.
For ships who berthed they uttered words
In thanks for land upon this sea
As storms would rage to shatter strengths
In triumph our pier had welcomed thee.
Like those who’d trod its solid beams
And left these shores to honour King
Behind them stood our naval borough
Whose people echoed valiant deeds.
For ships that harboured off our shores
And streets of London that prayed for calm
Forget we not our honoured task
To protect this land in air & sea.
And now that candles gently flicker
Uniting friend & foe as one
As doves fly by we thank the heavens
For the peace that grows upon our cliffs
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC
Misguided — we were inseparable, but things
as they do, always with certainty like life itself,
change. These different directions on winding roads
upwards and even edged to cliffs —these dangers
in solemn yet ostentatious affirmations: the I don't
knows paired with the I am sure's. Which?
Between the I love you's and the rarity of these
honest intentions - these naked affections with tears diluted between breaths. Surely, it was true; true as
formations upon mouth tongue cheek in ***** patterns tracing up and down skin, hands to thigh
and then some — yet now.
© A. Leigh
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
Have you seen the moon tonight?
It's talking to me
Leigh Herondale August 2015
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 8:36 AM 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