The Alps At NightA Poem by Leslie Philibertwalking..the ribs of falling night cold flints of Autumn,a dark curtain creating two rooms nameless stumps of broken teeth, melted to the white rock jaw heavy as the light is bad, the path a black swan`s neck tubular and serrated, a tunnel of guarding pines and the tree line that grabs the swallowed sun, a tense spring under the forest floor; pushing me along, the air as quiet as a stone`s face the half silence of a broken bell leaves moving with half life So all light has fled into the sky ; just the small spots of dropped stars a road down the distant valley.
© 2013 Leslie PhilibertReviews
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12 Reviews Added on July 21, 2013 Last Updated on July 21, 2013 AuthorLeslie PhilibertBavaria, GermanyAboutI`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..Writing
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