Best Alesia Poems
A band of gold is all she wears--
no need for diamonds or fancy wares.
Simple, yes, but rich with grace--
for when it slipped upon her hand,
two hearts found their sacred place.
Alesia Leach © 10/1992
My God,
You call us to be faithful--
though we stumble, though I fall short,
do not turn a deaf ear to my prayer.
They came into our country cloaked in deceit,
striking down the innocent.
They took lives not theirs to take,
and now we go to shield the faultless,
while they return our goodness with vileness.
Let Satan chastise their cruelty.
When judgment comes, let the verdict be just.
Let punishment echo the grief they’ve stirred--
widows draped in black for every cur.
I praise You, Yahweh,
for You dwell always in my heart.
Let us not seek vengeance with our hands--
but let the Lord be our retribution.
Alesia Leach © 9/2001
Sleep, my love, sleep.
Rest your head on my breasts,
and place yourself into my keep.
Then, dream us on a mighty quest.
To a land where dragons exist--
where we run through mystical forests,
and chase unicorns through the mist.
Then float on pretty balloons, I promise.
Through the marsh we must flee,
toward evil knights guarding the keep--
where buried treasure waits for thee,
before we escape on murmuring seas.
Sleep, my love, sleep.
Close your eyes and spread your wings.
There is no reason for you to weep,
for in your dreams, you are king.
Alesia Leach © 5/2014
Sometimes he sits, a little forlorn,
handsome and elegant, gently worn.
He’s shy, it’s true--but full of grace,
a quiet comfort in my resting place.
And when I see his tender smile,
my worries fade, if just a while.
With the biggest blue eyes--so wide, so true,
he never lies, not ever to you.
He’s been there through my laughs and tears,
so lovable, kind, through all these years.
When he was given, I felt so blessed--
do you know who he is? Have you guessed?
His name is Freddy--
and he is my Teddy.
Alesia Leach © 5/2014
Apple Pie, Apple Pie--
such a wondrous thing,
in the winter or in the spring.
So doggone sweet,
and a yummy treat.
Apple Pie, Apple Pie--
pluck the sweetest from the tree.
One, two, three--laughing with glee!
A flaky crust and sweet center,
eaten with ice cream--who cares if it’s winter?
Apple Pie, Apple Pie--
sugar and cinnamon, sticky sweet.
Pop it in the oven--almost complete!
I cannot wait to have a slice, maybe two...
because one would scarcely do.
Apple Pie, Apple Pie--
I cannot believe I did not share.
It was tasty on my tongue--
and now there is no more there,
not even a crumb!
Alesia Leach © 10/2014
Wandering through the bayou,
wrapped in its eerie embrace.
Mysterious and strange--
a magical place.
Never seeming to change,
even as seasons come and go,
swampy waters ebb to and fro.
Like long-lost daughters,
gnarled courtly cypress trees
rise from black, murky waters.
Draped lovingly in Spanish moss,
swaying softly in the breeze.
Butterflies float across
as gentle winds ruffle their leaves.
Bouquets of wild hibiscus fill the air,
mingled with sweet azaleas blooming there.
Bullfrogs croak and crickets chirp--
the bayou is awash with soothing music.
As dragonflies flit the cattails, elusive,
water moccasins slither at your feet,
or lurk above you in the trees.
Just as the sun begins to sink low,
comes the faint sound of a fiddle and bow.
The gator comes out of hiding,
rising from the dark waters below--
looking for his meal and smiling.
With snapping jaws, a deer is caught,
then taken below, where he will rot.
The moon rises high into the night,
as fireflies glow in the twilight.
A voodoo queen slips into sight--
with gnarled hands, she rolls the bones.
Whispering cryptic words, she softly moans,
tenderly caressing her snake,
wrapped around and about her neck.
A coon hound whoops it up.
The gnarled trees cast spooky shadows.
Is that the ghostly apparition of Jean Lafitte--
who managed to escape prison and gallows?
Did you bury your treasure in the water or weeds?
As the wind moans softly, it’s time to turn home,
where you can fill your belly with spicy gumbo.
Alesia Leach © 10/2014
The lazy lion lingered by the lake,
licking his luscious lips,
listening lightly as he laid
like a lump by the log,
longing to lunch on a lovely lamb--
if it would only land in his lap.
Alesia Leach © 05/22/2016
The nights creep in a little earlier,
and the days grow short and gray.
Frost now kisses the waking ground--
the bees have flown away.
The warm days have all but vanished;
rain and snow begin to play.
Trees stand bare in solemn rows,
and leaves are swept away.
The earth begins to slow its breath,
preparing for the cold.
Football cheers rise with the dusk,
and ballots cast take hold.
We honor all our veterans,
and Native tribes with pride--
then gather close, with feasting hearts,
and gratitude inside.
Alesia Leach © 11/2014
Today, a butterfly
fluttered through the sky.
Swooping, drawing near--
floating close enough to hear
the wish whispered softly
through teardrops, a little salty.
It landed on a tiny nose
and heard the giggle as it goes.
To the heavens it soared up high,
releasing the wish on a little sigh.
Alesia Leach © 2/2015
The corn is tall, the sky is wide,
golden fields on every side.
Apple-sweet, the morning air--
cool and crisp, beyond compare.
A hush beneath the harvest moon,
the rustling leaves a twilight tune.
The sun still lingers, soft and slow,
but shadows stretch and breezes blow.
September hums a quiet song,
of summer’s end, and dusk grown long.
With every note, the season turns--
a warmth that fades, a fire that burns.
The earth prepares its rest in hues
of orange dreams and mellow blues.
A song of change, both sweet and wise,
echoing under amber skies.
-Alesia Leach © 8/2015
Yellow represents happiness and fun--
yellow brightens your day with the sun.
Yellow can reverse a sad day’s melody,
yellow can zap away your melancholy.
Yellow ribbons hope for a warrior’s return,
yellow heat from the fire where it burns.
Yellow roses for friendship and new beginnings,
yellow music from canaries singing.
Yellow--the sour taste of lemon in my mouth,
yellow--a sweet taste of peach from the South.
Yellow butter slides across my toast,
yellow champagne bubbles tickle my nose.
Yellow diamonds brighten the night sky,
yellow moonbeams wish you goodnight.
Alesia Leach © 2/2015
Would you like to go to a land
where stories never end?
It rests on golden banks of sand,
just where the river bends.
The sky turns pale with whispered grace
as you pass the veil's embrace--
what a magical, wondrous sight
to see the fairies take to flight.
Elves dance lightly, two by two,
in morning mist and meadow dew.
Sweet music flows from a leprechaun’s lyre
as laughter trills like silver fire.
Skipping past a babbling brook,
through trees that sing if you just look,
the dragons lift a curious eye
as mermaids charm the Unseelie high.
And in the fields where daisies bloom,
the gnomes collect rose-petal plumes.
But be prepared to pay the toll
if you cross the Bridge of Trolls.
Now twilight wraps the drowsy land--
it's time to greet the Sandman's hand.
I hope your heart was light today...
don’t forget to come back this way.
Alesia Leach © 10/2014
In this garden,
the roses have all withered,
the sparrows no longer twitter,
the day is dark and bitter.
In this garden,
a rusty gate swings in the wind,
a faded pinwheel gently spins,
a sad little girl swings within.
In this garden,
the trees are brown and rotten,
the youthful dreams forgotten,
and little tears fall often.
In this garden,
the land lies in dark repose,
the stream no longer flows,
and little eyes bear pain untold.
In this garden--
once, there was beauty here,
once, laughter flowed sweet and clear,
once, there was vigilance near.
© 05/22/2015 – Alesia Leach
Written for The Poet’s Shadow – Hosted by Greg Barden
In winter’s mist, the magic swirled,
as darkness wrapped around the world.
Reflected in water--a dragon’s birth.
His scales aglow in red and gold,
his eyes burned bright--green and bold.
His beauty stirred something deep in my soul.
Wings like thunder broke the sky--
he rose in silence, twisting high.
A shadow-dance beneath the stars and night.
With every beat, the air grew still--
his stare held mine, commanding will.
And in that hush, I feared my fate
might come too late.
Then down he swept through icy air,
his cry a call both wild and fair.
Would I be caught--or spared?
He landed soft on snow below.
“I am a friend,” he said, not foe.
“Come. There is more to know.”
With blazing breath and flapping wings,
we soared above forgotten things--
the sky alight,
my soul in flight--
I’d never known such joy, such height.
Alesia Leach © 9/2014
Listen--quiet, still.
The forest holds its own breath.
Birdsong threads the air.
-Alesia Leach © 5/2015