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Best Poems Written by Lelah Walters

Below are the all-time best Lelah Walters poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Ally

Golden eyes shine still
Warm fur soft under hand
Sweet sipirt waning


Lelah D. Walters
9/6/09

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The Barbershop

Through the window you can see him there,
shaving whiskers and trimming hair.
Red and white swirling outside the door,
as hair drifts skittering across the floor.

He stands all day, he works so hard
dreaming of a sunbath out in his yard.
The little girl waits with broom in hand,
for the Barber to give the sweep command.

And on Sunday, his day of rest,
he let her do what she liked best.
He sat and read in his rocking chair,
while she braided ribbons into his wisps of hair.

Lelah Walters
10/10/09

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You Don'T Know...

You Don’t Know...


You don’t know...me.
What I think, like, feel.
You don’t know…what I can do,
or what I have accomplished.
You don’t know… where I have traveled,
or where I am headed.
You don’t know…my hopes and dreams,
or my fears and concerns.
You don’t know…how much I wish that you did.
You don’t know…the cost of the years passing by.
You don’t know…how much love
and friendship was there for the taking.
You don’t know…what you don’t know.
And not knowing, you know not 
all that you have missed.

By Lelah D Walters
9/4/09

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The Day

How do you know when the time is right?
When the eyes that once sparkled have lost their light?
When the robust body that used to run and play
has lost its shape, is fading away?
Without words to voice her plight,
she looks to her master to set things right.
Her life’s been long, her service true.
The days remaining now are few.

How do you know which day is the one?
When to make that call, to say she’s done?
To take that step, that last loving endeavor
that will part her from your life forever?
They say it is an act of kindness shown
to a faithful friend, to guide her home.
Home to the place where she will rest,
until the day when we are blessed
to hold her again, watch her run and play;
Then we will know that was the day.


Lelah D. Walters
9/19/09

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Summer Morning

Yellow butter sun breaking through a blue, cloud spotted sky.
Ground warm beneath swiftly moving feet,
that propel me toward the day’s adventures.
Twisting green vines, sporting fairy hat flowers
ripen quickly in the creeping heat.
Scent of grass, asphalt and rain left over from
a shower quickly passing in the night; penetrate my senses 
and I am transported to the long ago days of childhood.

Lelah Walters
9/20/09

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Rince Gealach

Moonlight shone in the forest glade
bathing in silver, the fairy maids.
The fairies danced beneath the moon
on a sultry night, half past June.

The starlight kissed their luminescent wings,
Which sparkled with silver in their fairy ring.
The fairy queen in the center stood,
And the scent of flowers washed thru the wood.

A sweet, mystical music filled the air,
And the dancers danced without a care.
In wild abandon they spun and leapt,
While in oblivion nearby a human slept.

The celebration went on ‘til the approach of dawn,
When into the glen stepped a doe and her fawn.
The fairies bowed to their beloved queen,
And prepared to enter into the world between.

They filed into the fairy mound 
And disappeared into the ground.
There they’ll stay ‘til the next full moon
When they’ll return and dance to their fairy tune.

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Shades of Shadows

She drifts through the visions of someone else’s life,
searching for an essence of purpose.
She wonders where the one she loves has gone.
Why does she feel so lonely, so lost and detached?
She roams in the soft twilight in this city of ornamental sepulchers, 
and pauses to inhale the scent of crumbling roses that have reached their climax.
Moss hangs from the trees like hair turned 
to mold on a humid summer night long ago.
The trees whisper to her of dreams she can’t digest.
They tell her she is part of their world now,
and grasp at her with claws of confinement.
She breaks away and moves into the deepening shadows.
There he is, standing silently with head bowed.
His gaze blurred, his heart rent with desolation. 
She moves closer to look and feels her mind unfold.
Her name etched forever on a shrine of granite.
She reaches towards him for comfort,
but her arms only circle back to clutch at herself.
The wind sighs, the night bird calls to her lover and he,
stands shivering in his coat.


Lelah Walters
10/09/09