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Leigh Stephenson Poem
The sun is distant now; lowering its gaze upon me to a mere blanket of obscurity.
The sea is calm but still tantalisingly sinister and threatening.
The silence is hostile, I am cold and alone - each breath I take is an intricate requisite.
I am sceptical, burdened with misplaced ideals, unconvinced I will ever unearth the vitality within myself.
Kneeling on the edge of my own existence, I wait for a voice to utter my path,
The man in the moon offers me a reluctant and hesitant grin as he watches over me. I'm too incompetent to counter the gesture.
My inability in offering a tear is poignant for us both - He understands me. It is beautiful.
Copyright © Leigh Stephenson | Year Posted 2018
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Leigh Stephenson Poem
The blue bells assume you came to save me; you're yesterday's love anyway,
A fragmented secluded infinity, no expectations, just sadness and melancholy.
Leave me now, I am exultant and proud, I retain my scrutiny,
Let us not pour fuel on to the burning wreckage no more.
Copyright © Leigh Stephenson | Year Posted 2018
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Leigh Stephenson Poem
Sitting, absorbing the pleasures, a gulp of wine from an old mug.
Gazing in to the embers, a lonely flame dances, enhances.
During the dark hours the fields become shrouded in white,
I sat up all night and then it dawned on me.
Copyright © Leigh Stephenson | Year Posted 2018
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Leigh Stephenson Poem
My wilting flower is wounded by the unsympathetic frosted winter crust, its head is bowed as if to proclaim and succumb to its demise.
The panorama is roofed by a mantle of deep yawning snowfall, treachery to the splendour of the customary sincere beauty.
By fortune, or its competence; the icy waters impound the curious and disorientated prey into the abyss.
The infinite shroud of grey will endeavour to obscure any minuscule glow of contentment, undeniably seeking inhospitable retribution.
The dormant and secreted existence will unearth itself once more
Copyright © Leigh Stephenson | Year Posted 2018
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