You brilliant Jew,
You bright particular chameleon, you
Regild a shabby fence.
They understood
Your stripes and particolored mind, who could
Begrudge you prominence
And call you cold!
But when has prejudice been glad to hold
A lizard in its hand—
A subtle thing?
To sense fed on a fine imagining,
Sound sense is contraband.
By Marianne Moore (more…)
I know, I know! It’s been a minute since I last wrote one of these things. However, in my defence, I’m terribly lazy. Anyways, I’ve had some thinkings over the last wee while and figured I’d write something for nobody to read. (more…)
When Hell froze over,
you sprinted for infinity.
Granted, to run
seemed your sole affinity,
but simply doing
your simple love
made all the difference
‘tween nil and enough.
So thank you for Nome,
and thank you for hope;
may you ever tread prints
in the freshest of snow.
© Blake Leitch April 10, 2019
By Marianne Moore (more…)
Smile again and joke again and laugh again.
And when the audience is gone,
write again and listen to heartbreak again.
Whatever you do, do as ever you’ve done
and paint o’er the cracks of you again.
© Blake Leitch April 5, 2019
I speak of you in whispers,
I hold you to no fault,
I act as hopeless
new romantic,
allow Maybe no salt.
I hold Her glassy spindles,
Her fragile weavings through
the space of future
as could-be suitor
to the hopes and dreams of you.
© Blake Leitch March 26, 2019
If yellow betokens infidelity,
I am an infidel.
I could not bear a yellow rose ill will
Because books said that yellow boded ill,
White promised well;
However, your particular possession-
The sense of privacy
In what you did-deflects from your estate
Offending eyes, and will not tolerate
Effrontery.
By Marianne Moore (more…)
blakeleitchpoetry.com 