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Best Poems Written by Alesia Leach

Below are the all-time best Alesia Leach poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Music Man, Music Man

Music man, Music man 
Your loving guitar in hand 
Your music was my downfall 
Taking my heart, taking my all 

I fell in love with your words, 
Grew addicted to your rhythm. 
The sorrow in your burning chords, 
Drew me in with them. 

I felt your music flow through me 
Getting lost, carried away 
In your songs, in your dreams 
As I listened to you play 

Music man, Music man 
Your loving guitar in hand 
Your music was my downfall 
Taking my heart, taking my all 

Music man, Music man 
Your loving guitar in hand 
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

ALesiach © 07/23/2017

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Band of Gold

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

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A Prayer For September 11th

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

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Sleep My Love Sleep

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

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Freddy

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

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Cabin in the Woods

In the shadowed maw of the forest deep, 
Where whispers of the night do creep, 
There lies a tale, a chilling draft, 
That sends shivers down the spine, so deft.

A cabin old, with windows like eyes, 
Staring into the abyss of skies, 
Stood silent, save for the wind's soft moan, 
In a clearing where no bird had flown.

The walls, once warm with family cheer, 
Now echo with an unseen fear, 
For in this place, where laughter ceased, 
A darker presence was increased.

A traveler, weary from the road, 
Seeking shelter from the night's cold brood, 
Pushed through the door, creaking, worn, 
Unaware of the terror he would spawn.

The hearth was cold, the air was thick, 
A sense of dread, so sly and sick, 
He felt the past, the tales untold, 
Of souls that vanished in the cold.

As dusk turned to a starless night, 
The traveler felt an eerie blight, 
A whisper soft, a breath, a sigh, 
A voice that seemed to crawl and cry.

"Leave this place," it hissed and wept, 
"For in these walls, we hungrily kept, 
The essence of the lost, the dead, 
Feast upon your fear, your dread."

The traveler, his heart a frantic beat, 
Felt the chill of phantom feet, 
A spectral dance, a ghostly throng, 
Circling him as if to prove him wrong.

He sought to flee, to break the spell,
 But found the door would not compel, 
Trapped within the cabin's grip, 
His sanity began to slip.

The air grew heavy, thick as soup, 
As shadows took the form of group, 
Of tormented souls, with eyes aglow, 
Reaching out from below.

The traveler, in despair, did shout, 
"What do you want, these haunts about?" 
A voice then spoke, a raspy sound, 
"To join our dance, forever bound."

The floorboards creaked, and the walls did bend, 
As if the very house would end, 
The traveler, with a final prayer, 
Felt the grasp of icy air.

His scream was lost, absorbed by night, 
As he was pulled from mortal sight, 
Another soul to join the throng, 
In the cabin's horror, where he's drawn.

Now heed this tale, ye who roam, 
Avoid the cabin, its dreadful home,
For in the forest, dark and wild, 
Lieth a terror, most unsanctified.

And so, the story ends, but not its tune, 
For under the haunted, silent moon, 
The cabin waits for one more soul, 
To complete its ghastly, grim role.

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Beneath the Bower

I lay amidst scenes of deepest gloom,
beneath the garden's bower blooms.
Listening to the wind and rhythm of the rain,
weeping grief, my soul in pain.

The darkness deepens,
covering meadows, darker still the woodlands.
Gone the twinkling starry skies,
thunder drowns my soul-sick cries.

Wounded, weary
Sheltered in my fragile sanctuary.
The woeful heart sings,
the torments that life brings.

My heart has no desire to stay,
when my heart's desire has flown away.
I come to the garden alone now,
beneath the bower, our lover's vow.

06/29/2017
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Best rhyming poem May-July 2017 - Poetry Contest

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Hell Is A Place

A crimson sky, where embers dance and swirl,
A landscape cracked, a world of endless fire,
Where sulfurous fumes choke, and shadows hurl,
And screams of agony forever conspire.

The air is thick with ash, a choking haze,
A stench of burning flesh, a reeking blight,
Where molten rock, in ceaseless, fiery blaze,
Consumes the damned, in endless, dark, cold night.

No solace found, no respite from the pain,
No comfort in the endless, burning pyre,
Just endless torment, a maddening refrain,
A skin ablaze, a heart consumed by fire.

The tortured souls, their bodies contorted, writhe,
In agony eternal, forever damned,
Their voices rise, in endless, burning scythe,
A symphony of pain, a gruesome, burning band.

No hope remains, no solace in the gloom,
Just endless suffering, a burning, endless tomb.

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Whispers of Thrills

The rusted Ferris wheel, a skeletal hand,
Points to a sky it can no longer command.
Once, laughter echoed, joy on the breeze,
Now silence reigns, whispered by the trees.

The carousel horses, their paint chipped and worn,
Dream of merry-go-rounds, of days yet unborn.
Once, children squealed, clinging to their steeds,
Now shadows dance, where happy laughter bleeds.

The cotton candy stand, its windows cracked and dim,
Holds the ghost of sweetness, a forgotten whim.
Once, sugary clouds, a magical delight,
Now only dust motes, swirling in the light.

The roller coaster track, a metal serpent curled,
Whispers of thrills, a forgotten world.
Once, screams of delight, a dizzying race,
Now only rust and wind, in this silent space.

The park stands empty, a monument to time,
A reminder of moments, once so sublime.
The ghosts of laughter, echo in the breeze,
Whispering of memories, of happy, carefree days.

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Last One Left

(The Hollow City Cycle include:
The Hollow City
I Remember You -- the city speaks
Last One Left)

They never saw me--
not fully.
Even when I begged them with my eyes,
or left poems scratched on alley walls
between peeling posters and prayer graffiti.

When they fled,
I stayed.
Not out of bravery,
but because I had nowhere else to go.

Now the city wears silence like a crown,
and I walk her streets like a loyal dog
chained to a ghost.

I sleep in shattered chapels
and drink rain from rusted fountains.
I whisper names to broken windows
just to hear the glass shiver.

At night,
I dance with shadows
that don’t know they’re gone.

I don’t know what I am anymore.
Not memory,
not mercy--
just the last heartbeat
in a place that has none.