Poetry Blog by Mr LEON STOLGARD

trying to be his own god

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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mettle ( yeah! and me too! )

I can beat death to the punch whenever I choose

or go on wearing out the earth's skin

until she holds me in a clay fist.

Sometimes I think I have wasted her supportive time

in acting as the king of clowns

pretending to look as though I really knew myself

the real me I wake up as to abuse at every given chance.


During the clocks subtractions 

I peck like a bedraggled ra...

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beginning ends

when the end begins

we all know that

it could be worse

it could be better

it makes me despair for the worst

it makes me hope for the better

these opposites are interlaced with sorrow

interlaced with peace

why I don't know

I must find out

before the end begins

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such as ethnic cleansing's

seeing televised scenes of death en-masse

delivering more of itself in a few hours

than it takes sackfuls of our mail

to be delivered in a week.

Grim results of the dead

not being dealt with respectfully

not being encased

shouldered and religiously treated

before being lowered into the silent peaceful earth 

with dignity

but left out in the open

already having suff...

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what would we do without dads

( simplistic poem knocked together for my she-nipper to read in class-re tomorrow )


Fathers who cried with joy seeing us come into the world

Fathers who helped our new lives unfurl

Fathers who nursed us and taught us to potty

Fathers who wiped away green nose bubbles and dripping candles drippingly snotty

Fathers who trained us to bike ride and ran alongside

Fathers who hugg...

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who un-cares wins?

in the narcotic's world,

dealers are boss

often going bloodily head to head

with their own kind.

A life not for me

watching their street corner

and alleyway open shop antics

through my car window

on a daily basis

as they continue carving

notch after financial notch

on the bark

of their unstoppably growing

money fruited trees.

To them,

their power plays


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luck pusher

too many assumptions of immortality.

Now I find his youthful form

once as graceful as any ballerina

has been dismissed from life

by microscopical rogues

that burned then iced all he was

a flamed and frozen eradication.

Exchanged browsings of his past

uncover's an exhibitionist, poser

brash and swordsman-like 

with a keen blade of wit

snob, participant, in all thing...

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Doctor Grease Monkey

My buddy

top guy at cannibalising scrap vehicles 

any age, any kind

meticulously, surgically goes about,

frankensteining parts and panels

into mad maxian, fast and furious beasts

that become famed for their zany designs

souped up

to roaringly eat up every unlimited sped mile after mile

resprayed colours?

demonic red or funereal black-only-of course!


for him,...

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Trump card

entry picture

As one waste of Brexit space leaves, number ten

guess who will be

the likeliest male version to arrive and take her place?

ME!!!!! ( thanks to my Yankee-doodle-dandy Uncle Donald )




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I look at her across the dance hall

and dream ( burning with desire )

that she would be standing right next to me

asking that I perform an impossible something


something ridiculously pointless

like pulling the Moon out of my pocket

or swimming around this huge room in mid-air

or recalling a day that hasn't arrived yet.


( still dreaming )

I'm imploring her to go...

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Country boy down the 'smoke'

Two days

are two too many

to spend

in this madhouse

of a city.

Dawn rises up

on this heaving

southern sprawl

my desire to leave

rises even higher.

Manic rushings about

are everywhere-

smart-phone doped people

rivers of cars

pavement encroaching

delivery vehicles

cycling and motorbike couriers

bullying and battling

for space.

Walking in Oxfor...

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Second hand shop visiting

Bronze African Zulu 

Large Nymph carved out of

what must have been a very big wood block.

Victorian Jewellery riddled with life stories

all displayed on a gargantuan farmhouse cleared Table

and your reflection and my reflection

in a circular ornate edged mirror

with the backdrop of a modern world behind us both

turning its technological nose up

at the archaic articles


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A bereaved husbands added disconnections

He has been disowned

by what used to be his reliance

a need for wild open spaces he now wants 

more than he ever did before.


Once, they welcomed him

once, they provided familiar necessary treasures,

tranquillity, freedom,

a connection to natures many offerings

importantly creating a separate kind of happiness


but her death changes all of them.


No more s...

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Inspiring of sighs

Sea, glass calm in sunlight

inviting enough to be knee height waded in.


A white flurry of curious gulls come enquiring about my presence

perhaps expecting a hand-out

from an animal loving hand


or chances to steal dead fish

from a carelessly left open basket

until the realising of no such luck

sends them wheeling away into the distance

resembling a handful of wi...

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Three Machiavellian neighbours


they begin their wicked cackling get together

each, helping to stir

the cauldron of local gossip

relishing especially

the misfortune of others in it

to which they add

their own vitriolic potions

of malice. 

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Declination's and daydream's


wasting in the tired Autumn Grass

no apple pies this year.


You, alongside, zimmer frame assisted

almost skin only

hanging, on aching, frustrating bones.


You sought my 'still fairly supportive for my age' shoulder

 your claw-like fingers eventually 

finding the nape of my neck


that feeling

like the ones we shared long ago

with just a knowing ...

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Goodnight's and goodbye's

While they are waiting for God in numbered wards

she goes about her compassionate duty

guardian, angel, in human disguise

wearing a nurses uniform


more than occasionally

placing a warm-hearted hand

in another soon to be the coldest

it has ever been


despite their soft padding noise's

her footsteps are easily detected

and so well known

along these hospice c...

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Vacating the urn

Standing on the shore

I reluctantly give you

to the invisible slipway of turbulent air

a white dust cloud, ashen ghost

highering into view

wind dancing out to sea.

A new voyaging spirit

freed to seek

the oldest of homes. 

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Liquid annoyance

Heavy rain

watery stair rods

virtually owning the outdoors

continuing their ways to riddance and return

hammering windows

with the noise of miseries translation

blurring them

with the ruination of dry weekend plans


oh! the uncertainty!

such a deluge!


has something so sad

happened in heaven that the sky cannot stop crying?


God hasn't died has he!? 


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My go-for-it(!) Grandmother

Always adventurous

avidly searching the new

spiritually, humanely concerned

with the luminous instances of reality


how consistent 

her determinations about worthy tasks

and her energised openness to nature

and life


remembering our shared past

with her love, wit and bouts of exasperation

she wonderfully put us through


but above all

how she taught u...

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Demand and delivered!

Arriving, palette's stacked high

with our Amazon wants

our mostly unnecessary necessaries

in juggernauts to the greeding places

where appetites for more and more have lost control


Once weaned on its addiction

the drug of materialism

becomes the enemy within those

who fear being without.


Boy! have the Jones family got a lot to answer for!        

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