Poetry Blog by Mr LEON STOLGARD

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Rose Casserley on Chance to connect (Fri, 13 Sep 2019 02:52 pm)

Ruth O'Reilly on Chance to connect (Wed, 11 Sep 2019 05:37 pm)

Don Matthews on Chance to connect (Wed, 11 Sep 2019 04:06 pm)

M.C. Newberry on Chance to connect (Wed, 11 Sep 2019 03:08 pm)

LEON STOLGARD on Match night ( back then ) (Wed, 11 Sep 2019 01:12 pm)

Don Matthews on Match night ( back then ) (Wed, 11 Sep 2019 01:05 pm)

LEON STOLGARD on Match night ( back then ) (Wed, 11 Sep 2019 12:41 pm)

Don Matthews on Match night ( back then ) (Wed, 11 Sep 2019 12:28 am)

LEON STOLGARD on The Self only family (Tue, 10 Sep 2019 02:12 pm)

Rose Casserley on The Self only family (Sat, 7 Sep 2019 10:55 am)

Chance to connect

On ordinary A4

a notification in the newsagent's window


followed by lower case lettered brief contact info- 

Poetry club meetings

Mondays 7pm

Community Hall

( behind Tescos )


The colourless flyer almost hidden,

by others more eye-catching 

but just about manages to catch mine

on this dark cloudy day to work.


Why does this simple ad


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Match night ( back then )

Leaning towards the target

a granddad type shakily handed

launches his arrows through blue exhaled clouds

missies, curses, steps aside

downs another Guinness mouthful

while keeping a baggy eye on the board.


Victoriously piercing the dead centre

his young opponent creates a swell of triumphant roars

around the vault.


Fifty years of age and clothes style differen...

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The Self only family

More and more of their pig ignorants

are being born by the second


' Mr and Mrs Fuckyouwhoeveryouarewhateveryourproblem '

Their oinking soulless brats get everywhere!

opening doors for no one but themselves

intolerant down in the mouths

happily wallowing in sties of unhelpfulness

grinning, grinning at the sight of those fighting to survive.


So, take care, Mr and ...

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Not in my extinction rebellious name!


after whose very first circulating

gnawing bite

the tree screams

just like any other attacked living treasure

a scream only the caring can hear with their hearts

reverberating from the exposed stump centre

rippling out across the pool of annular rings

a decapitating loss

of tree blood, tree tears, tree life

murdered Amazonian giant

killed on demand


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Warring with bereavement ( fictional )

Her belongings and my happiness removed.

Loneliness will be here soon to take her place.

Photo albums and home videos will have a very long wait in the attic.

My soul wintering, in a house ravaged by echoes of the past.

Upstairs, a room I cannot go on crying in

or make my mind replay those intimate moments we shared within its walls


I cannot allow them to offset my  recovery


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Exiting prospect of singularity

Coming to a finishing line

we have never crossed before

unfaltering our E.U. membership cards returned

unneeded anymore 

U.K.'s leaving is forever

any chance of resurrection dead

never again shall Great Britain's sovereignty be

by common markets interventions bled

we'll go on wanton repairing past and forthcoming problems

standing alone once more on this white cliffed pr...

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Oh thank you! thank you! my newspaper enclosed gizmo selling mag!

entry picture

After having the best sleep

I have ever had on my


I hear my


into which I have been able to pre-record my own voice

shouting get up you lazy bastard!

which means it is time for me to step into my


and give my body the once over, using my


and my


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Up and at it!

Window cleaner

wet rag whirls the dirt filmed glass

improving suns entry

quickening the rooms warmth

rousing  drowsy horizontal bed loving me

into happier spirited verticality


my head, day plans filling

time is empty boxes

I must chockablock with communal usefulness.


Hurriedly dressed and annihilating breakfast

in a flash of minutes

I am four-wheeling awa...

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The abused fostered child

I hope in time you can let them completely repair the damage

be the Mother and Father you deserved

who will close the doors on all your fears

fill your sleep with toyshop dreams

dry the tear-filled eyes of your soul

with the velveted absorbancy of love

help you disremember cruelty

and abandonment

clown and lullaby your way back

to laughter and peace

with their genuine...

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At least one way of killing time

Smashed the hourglass

making most of a smile

as sand scattered

no more of their tick-tock pourings.


One retained golden grain

between finger and thumb

a microsecond in granulated form

a made useless captive

its tiny accounting participation disabled

a weak but so what and fuck you Mr Tyrant symbolical gesture.



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Rind, nuts, coconut shell

seeds from palms of hands

be support for us, sustain.

Plume garbed we sky toil, display actions

needless of having to beggar delight or awesomeness

we will do and be soul done to.

A harvest of thrills bred

of the beauty we bleed 

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Part ownership

We are two selves in one mind

should we be put in a freakshow

with those of our own kind,

Mother Natures brain sharing oddities

that she, the cruel bitch brought into this life of sorts?


Backstabber! tormentor!

who goes on and on demanding that we exchange places

inside our head without warning

left to contend with twinned agonies.


If only we had been made apar...

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Mockeries of pacifism

As to the battle's insisted upon

by the bloodthirsty

rejections abound

but with the enforcer's weapon

placed against foreheads-impossible?


fulfilling their murderously disguised duties

has to be

staining the soul? staining the earth?

no need to worry on that score say the hierarchies 

Arguments on behalf of peace are always sidelined

the mass killings of and by t...

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Taken aback and back

When sleet peppers my window

it  makes me wonder if Winter itself is actually trying to  get inside

escape  its own freezing blitzkrieg  

and dodge those little snow bombs softly hitting the glass


I put my face closer to the pane and see

the usual blackbird perched in the refuge of a holly bush

showing off its bravery

courageously, beautifully tuning its voice into defian...

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Demon clutched

Always booze smell on my breath, me,

the king of thirst

swimming in a lake of alcohol, preferring to drown

in its inebriating depths

constantly pissed and money scraping for every round

when I should have been both teetotally cleaned

and financially better off

have followed your healthy advice

stayed pub clear, not let myself go bar crawling

becoming an all-time member o...

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Here's to the memorial palais

The departed can't frolic in this light

though those on the extreme edge of life

sometimes do try the last waltz with hope

or the condemned man attempts a final jig of defiance

on his way to the gallows

as the last heartbeat, he has left, is slowly

strangled into silence


a cold ending chance for handkerchiefs

to dry the eyes of their beloved, they,

using remembran...

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Stranger and stranger the change

The past long time nailed down routines of weather

are dying

once ago settled seasonal queues


one after another arriving sooner or later than usual

some even appearing together unexpectedly now and again

we are witnessing an elemental civil war are we not?

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An offering to the god of WOL, but first........

......I have an impertinent question to ask their ' Royal ' ( ha!) ' Majesties ' ( ha! again )


Ma'am ( ha! ) will you be getting that well-used whitewash brush of yours out yet again ( Diana, hmmm? ) and will ' Prince ' ( ha! ) haha'ing 'ardfaced Andrew be supplying the whitewash? give me a fucking break! no doubt I will be watching you and the other public money abusers walk away from thi...

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That ( occasional ) shit feeling

Today, I am an unanswerable question

Jurassically overtaken

a dwelling with no real inhabitation to offer

a sour apple that refuses to be picked

from the tree of myself

and the worlds too full of emptiness


I'm rich with newly minted problems

that cannot be spent

a blank signpost

disassembled machine

a room heavily dosed with shadows.

I'm riding in a vehicle t...

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Food banking

Samaritan minded volunteers

stockpiling in the wherever's

heart and soul provided provisions

for the life shadowed

the many struggling of today's society

who would prefer to be someone else

further up the food chain of life

not chained to the lower levels by circumstance.

I'm a hoper, that their lives reparations

will begin here.

Food the main factor, but not the only...

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Slate quarries

Gigantically towering grey-faced giver of itself 

to many a roof,

open-air cathedrals of hard labour,

choicelessly enforced small wage-earning congregations 

slog it out, men, exploding, hacking, chiselling, splitting, trimming,

making beautiful in so many other ways too.


Did I mention those injured and dying in the process?

look again, look again at the old roofs and rem...

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optimistically rallying non-defeatist rhyme

Waste of space Mr Johnson

your hopes to win were born dead

so why do you go on butting brexit walls

with your empty straw-covered head?


Can't you see the E.U. is determined to

offer only NO DEAL!

because of you, Britain could become

one huge food banking nation

it's trading life blood's congeal


Though we did not run rabbit run from Adolfs, swastika'd threats


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Night struggle

Darkly, completely entombed

another bout with unreleasing sleeplessness.


Having to restart the game of explaining myself to myself

futile hopes and wishes adding their interventions

obstinate envisaged sheep refusing to jump the subconscious stiles


but timely comforting paned rain music comes to my aid

begins encouraging a send-off

with its pitter-pattering lullaby


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last let down

Her betrayal I wasn't prepared for,

an out of nowhere strike to my heart

a sudden dam bursting unstoppable river of lies

instantly drowning all I thought true

forced to submerge beneath the surface of deceit

to our loves repressiveness

I cannot afford any more Lazarus chances.




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who stole the fucking STOP RIGHT FUCKING NOW! sign? ( eco rant )

The, me! me! me! and want! want! want! people

have broken into the Earths Supermarket

and are ransacking its shelves of the next generations worldly ' GOODS '


nothing but fucking life robbers

ripping up the paths we need to lead us to a better future

that they, those MF's use to landscape their NOW gardens


hope in this planet's account is being thievingly withdrawn


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Unsure, my trust dawdles

the chances of any belief swirls, swishes,

like leaves caught in a whirlwind of confusion


I am hearing only partial declarations of honest worth, while,

the remaining helix of her true inner self is still cloaked.


Do I gamble on affirmations or distrust?

yes and no answer simultaneously.


And yet, her convincing expressions go on and on d...

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Again the fall out

as if bad weather

I am closed out from interiors

of bitterly fought family disputations

hatefully, unreasonably ingrained words

fierily uplifted to the surface of accusatory repeats


while I remain tranquilised with calmness, love and peace

not one-sided or the other

recognising as always old usages

of the same old finger-pointing, exercises.


Molten unproductive...

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Struggle of the unwanted

only the top-shelfer's get to lead a caviar lifestyle

while the likes of me and kid bro'

only had weeks old lard

to scrape off the fly dance floor

of a battered frying pan

to dress a stale crust or two most days


we had no rationing war to blame 

no home loving parents at hand if ever

to cast our aspersions on


and the last of the worth small money things

we t...

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booze broken

Like most pleasures

drinking alcohol is only nice they say

when downed in moderation.




I've floored reservoirs enough of the damned stuff

troubled too many emergency services too many times

seen the death list of friends rise and rise.


A typical friday night and across the road

they are lifting the palatic off the pavements

while I am vomiting in the ba...

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I try to find you using

I swear are there sounds of your footsteps

still, echo breaking the silence of corridors

and sesame opened newly discovered chambers


there are recesses to be explored

investigations of the be-all or nothing of you 

behind half-closed doors    


stairways to ascend and up again

into attic lands of cobwebbed residences of spiders

and their ...

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waking up yet AGAIN

in a not as happy as a pig in shit, mood

in fact, feeling like the shit itself

my lock on life continues to rust

how I ache against not having to go down with any ship whatsoever

being made to lie there till bone bleached

on the sea bed of misery

never to be dredged by happiness

surface above closing

a tear-like barrier between my mind

and any chan...

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into the valley of less and less


I try to exist on a hundred, monthly

after bill paying, grow my own veg

depending on how kind the weather is.

Ciggies? no way! booze? you must be joking!

anything of any worth burgled long time ago

that in empty'ish nutshell is my tale.


Blighty! oh, my Blighty!

aren't you bothered if Elizabeths past defenders

down and out Tommies are left to scrimp and scr...

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piss take

pointed out instructively

not to turn-that-corner


a usual habit

I was being strongly advised to break

lest once around it again


I would have condoned

the increase in boring repetition. How strange a request!


Yet, all this they said, so,

following their all too convincing suggestions

went the long way

side-walked with haunted house figures way


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number one in the bad boy charts

in my early teens

I began playing the role of King Trouble.

To play safe was for children.


I would also cast myself as nutter, boozer, bastard, MF, outcast,

all unsociably rolled into one.


There were others, mates, like me

elbowing our ways through every day, ignorances best customers

proud of our fuck you motto, shit brained dead-heads


of whom onlookers, pas...

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essential goods

back from war

after too many, a year

soldier puts his heart next to hers

once more 

but would it be recognised

would all of its violent echoes within

damage her acceptance?


On this liberated day

peace and understanding

have set up their stalls


he has already paid the price

for most of their wares

all he can hope for now


is that she will make a ...

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denying of child's play

it is now

and we are exchanging multi-faceted memories

most about our shared but unequal childhoods

involving my having been parentally disregarded out of hand

on your behalf


as if I had been some wolfish leader of an urchin pack

you were not allowed to join

( though having missed out on the hunts for fun none for human prey )

you were never Man Friday to my Robinson C...

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trying to be his own redeemer

in the cold light of another sad day

he looks up from the depths of his empty world.

The sky is a dream cemetery

where the dreams he failed to make real are buried.


Broken glass-like tears fill his eyes

his begging soul is on its knees.


Mercy is an unforgiving gauntlet he is continually running

confessionally seeking to unburden the weight of every secret wrong


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wilting wallflower ( for Devon )

The dance hall swirlers, and whirlers,

fast figured the floor.

An additional energy seemed born from theirs

and wrapped itself like streamers around

the happily chaotic stompers and twisters.


With my two left-footed incapability to join them

I could only jealously sit gazing in green wonder

as they, to the flashing fingers of guitarists and blurring drumsticks

went on ...

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victims? oh yeah! victims!

Parole board soft soapers

belatedly crying in the aftermaths

of their ridiculously reduced sentencing mistakes


as the criminals that fooled them

with their yes sirs! no sirs! three bags full sirs!

are liberated well before their allocated jail terms should have ended


freed to immediately go and spread their thieving tentacles

spawning yet more fresh crime


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an old, old drinking buddy as an example

Mostly I remember his prolific brows

his regularly, beer frothed whiskers

( frothed at my expense but what the hell )

under the worst trilby, I have ever seen

one that I would not even be seen dead in


and it makes me sad

for I too have uncared for myself

never correcting what has needed correcting

about the slipped through the net times in my life


though the le...

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a childish whitewashed mockery of you

still in part remains daubed

on a back alley wall of our crumbling soon to be demolished street

but has been subjected to disfigurement

flake by falling distemper flake

strangely turning it into an abstract

I can only describe as resembling the likes of 

an aciddently weatherbeaten Picasso

as if part of the face has been included

in ...

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just before the crowd pulled out

wearing contagious smiles

meaningful or not

I began to orate an irresistible speech

which mesmerically brought them all

to a heel grinding halt

gasping at the essence of every word

until their blood almost ran cold.


To me wearing the facade of somebody worthy of listening to

they seemed in this way

to have known my intentions, bec...

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painted in bright red and tail ended

with the all-important exclamation mark

I assumed had not lied


convicted now in abeyance

and haunted by the warning

I naively took to be as necessary

as wind, beneath my drooping wings


so young at the time

having recently heard no more than my own sobbing

on a green hill a distance from where...

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knock knock-who's not there?

Mornings in the privacy of his high rise cold water flat

always found him staring lengthily into the cracked shaving mirror

whose split reflections were once more to deny

any of his resemblances to youth


but the denial could not impede

his gifted habit of being able to self mockingly grin

at his facial wear and tear


not the impish grin he had displayed so long ago


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I kept listening out

on that night

still warming itself on the hot day's ashes

and throughout that semi-tenebrous while

remaining favourably perched, a nightingale

illuminated by the satellitic pallidity of the moon


but instead of continuing to beautifully, uninterruptedly sing

had vocally stalled in wretched silence

an unusuality I could not make head or tail of.



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Lord Lonely

In his empire of shadows

drinking each day empty

cursing regrets

that the dark side

of his memory repeats

and dictates


does his sorry best

to keep them locked inside

the sad dungeon

of his own making


into which no light

can ever break

or any key

ever open its door.


What undiscovered love

he has also imprisoned

what self-induced


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when being soft becomes hard

was it too much for you

to even hear the sound of your own echoing footsteps

running down and away

from the empty street at midnight where you live?


or, did your vulnerable listening

not want to take in another single thing

should it have included yet more bad news,


news that would always be repeating

freshly inked on the broadsheets

of communal gossip



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understanding values

Lost in her mind of somewhere other than here,

she was there

collecting into a rusted supermarket trolley, lots of somethings.


Had I not asked her what these somethings meant to her

her eyes wouldn't have sparkled into life.


Treasure! she replied.


Within the puzzlement of, an inward thought, I asked myself 


is treasure!?


She opened the palm of he...

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head shot/s?

paying respect

we slowed down over the exact spot

where death had left one of its blackest marks


and looking up at the famously infamous

book depository window

my eyes struggled to determine the difference

between tricks of the light 

and the ghost of a world-renowned assassin  

whose long-ago rifled deliveries

took November 22/63

into the more sorrier books of h...

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buildings and things

today's dying sun defined shapes

swallowed by the fully exploded quota of night.


How thankful they must be

for tomorrows reincarnating's of their existences

their repeated procurements of visibility


made able to marvel at themselves once more

in the clarifications of brightness

completely cured of the shadows contagiousness


these observations tempt me

to c...

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