Poetry Blog by Mr LEON STOLGARD

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LEON STOLGARD on Collaterally damaged (Wed, 5 Aug 2020 10:58 am)

keith jeffries on Collaterally damaged (Wed, 5 Aug 2020 10:57 am)

LEON STOLGARD on An anti-climactic New Years day (Wed, 5 Aug 2020 10:36 am)

Shifa Maqba on An anti-climactic New Years day (Tue, 4 Aug 2020 09:35 am)

Paul Sayer on An anti-climactic New Years day (Tue, 4 Aug 2020 07:44 am)

LEON STOLGARD on When footlights dim. (Mon, 3 Aug 2020 10:26 pm)

Shifa Maqba on When footlights dim. (Mon, 3 Aug 2020 07:07 am)

LEON STOLGARD on When footlights dim. (Sun, 2 Aug 2020 11:34 pm)

Paul Sayer on When footlights dim. (Sun, 2 Aug 2020 11:32 pm)

LEON STOLGARD on Post detonations. (Sun, 2 Aug 2020 10:55 pm)

Collaterally damaged

Lay on the graffiti sprayed park bench the homeless drug addict

pale, withered his face, stained and tattered his clothes

had he been a teacher, tradesman, bank manager

how then did he lose his way do you suppose?


Just out of prison once more, unwilling to learn lessons

physically, sexually abused in there then freed but still coping with strife

who was to care for him, have...

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An anti-climactic New Years day

The way that snow fall's

is in a hushing.


In the white-topped hedge

a bedraggled collection of nest building material,

all that is left of what once was home to its feathered occupants now long gone

doubtlessly having fought turbulent ways to

sunnier destinations.


In the slushed street

a woolly clad boy pulling his sledge

to  a deeper snowed on location, peers ...

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When footlights dim.


with our companion, joy

a boy we assumed would never age

how he wonderfully filled each days page, and how he led the dance!

enhancing the youthful stage with light and love


while above, dreams flew just waiting to be caught

no thought of reality had we carrying on the naive act

blind to the fact that the spectre of time was unimpressed

never did we guess of t...

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Post detonations.

When annihilated all that time was to bring

and the ever occupied bird of deaths last flight takes to the wing

Sun, Moon, Stars, on who then to shine

as resulting Armageddon rising in its prime

witnesses our total absence from this Earth

and of Nature has removed all of its worth

then, life goodbye and all human rights

and every forthcoming queuing off-stage day and ensuing ni...

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Now of mind through time aligned

to accept and respect the parallel of death

his stark irrefutable sweeping breath

carrying our souls into enigmatic spaces

unknown places where beliefs may end

that once did infer

how foolishly we clung

to myths and gods that never were.

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Secret saviour

I saw her from a distance

sadly gazing up and around

the star-studded natural gift shop window

of the night sky


as though looking for something

to help stop the tears.


But I wouldn't weep if I were her

I would let the Moons meditative charisma

induce the healing powers of slumber

into those weary eyes

brimmed with the liquidity of despair


so will she...

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Wave music

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Ceaselessly unfolding

thunderous orchestrations

subsiding into whispering adagios

blue-green compositions 

conducted by Mother Nature

for liquid fingers to play widely across

golden grained keyboards.

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Burden of hindsight.

Lift the lid of a long-ago childhood.

Reach into the desperately sad contents.

Take out the child figure of a small boy and

stand him looking out of the window of a filthy stinking kitchen.


See the tears dropping from his young eyes

at the end of each days watching from that window

days in which he hoped he would see

his runaway Mother coming back home for good, getting o...

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My last Peter Green gig.

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( Peter Green-blues guitarist co-founder of Fleetwood Mac who died yesterday )


Dampened reminiscent ardours

seeing him bereft of coolness

electro-convulsively shocked clean of narcotics

( his twilight world candy )

exchanged for fattening but legal medication.


Sending his glazed gaze over our gatherings

all reserves of the glory days drained away

any thirsts of l...

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At each others throats

Schizophrenic problems?

I don't have them

do we?


Ohhhh! don't listen to him!

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Farm girl

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Small in stature

but she speeds like

a two-toned projectile

at an astonishing rate.


She can work the field and farm

with almost human conscientiousness.

To her, the heights of any wall or fence

are insignificant.


You will never see tiredness or unwillingness in her eyes

only the enjoyment of devotion and duty

and a keen readiness for the whistle

or the ne...

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Natural husband

On the shore's edge

still deeply in love  with all I am seeing

I open my arms

as if wanting to embrace

the whole beautiful scenario

and standing there

before the altar of the sun

like a potential bridegroom

eyes closed

once again

I am whispering my vows.




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Dark dream river.

Oh! the very thought of you!

wherever you are going

take me with you.


Be strange

be frightening

be deep

be cold


be anything

other than predictable

but take me with you.


Tell me

you will never stop

and I will tell you


that little do your

strange waters know

but I have always

belonged to them.


Death wil...

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Imperative support

'Surely not!' I say to myself

( having obeyed the sat-nav directions )

as I drive into the entrance of this gargantuan dilapidated Victorian architectural building

but I am soon to be surprised that it still functions as a hospital!


Once inside and hearing the rickety sounding lift

does nothing to tempt me to put a foot inside it.

I take to the stairs, your whereabouts here ...

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They who self destroy

Only a foolish heart stands by while the beast of loneliness gnaws at it

and decides to suffer such pain till they die

ignores the cloud with even the smallest of silver lining

to anything of beauty turns a blind eye


nothing of help will they accept for all time

no vows of self-improvement by them will be said

poor are their souls untouched by rejoicing

any paths to happi...

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Glowing windows stepping their ways down and terracing

the valley hillsides, flickering in the distance like fireflies

until surrendering to the superior congregation of darkness.


Sheep, effigies of godliness, whitely contrasting with the tenebrous gloom

bleating vocal anthologies of pitifulness.


An Owl unfolds and paley ascends

predatorily ghosting the wind whispered f...

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Child to woman, of the road,

a life smelling of woodsmoke.


Untamed wayfarer, wild as the wind, hard as rock.


Upholder of the old traditions.

Traveller unburdened by time, unwearied by inclement weather.


Steeped in the priority of loving horses and all things natural.


Vagabond follower of the liberated hearts directions.


Dance partner of Mother Freedom...

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Silent siren

A beam rotates, cuts through the spray lashed wind howling night

whitely knifing a path to darkness sever

a stony tapering guardian announcing danger to those sailing too close  by

should they if blown off course, come to shore, so mistakenly an endeavour


where at the foot of this ground rooted one-eye brightened giant

sea periphery blanketed foam disguised

the wreckage hung...

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The penny drops!

Now that I have finally killed all my regrets

with so so strong and bright a determination like a sun that never sets

given times more precious valued purpose to nought but the wonders of life and love

fitting as perfectly and forever as does an awoken hand in true realisations glove.



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The possibility of endangering a gentleman's genitalia


with demonic profanities daubed on every wall

before I knocked another short back

I knocked a scrubber off up against the filthy s**thouse wall


she only charged a quid a screw, this was my lucky day!

but when she added ' that's plus VAT '

I said ' yer wot! no ! way!


so I had to watch this crafty cow, thinking she had the measur...

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A words inside words hunt with my new thinking albeit ( as yet ) unsuccessful self

Oh yes! I know they're up there

but the little !!!'s won't come down and out

 maybe its because my name isn't Coleridge, Wordsworth, Dickinson

those poets that so many with very good reason rave the !  about


So, okay, you clever !'s

keep yourselves to yourselves


but one day I'll build the ( has to be ) 

longest metaphorical ladder in the world


and you lot can...

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Praising the old Masters

A deeper prolonging hunger has seized my mind since greedily having read

of so many noble masterpieces which long have and will so yet and far beyond

retain their golden worth it must be said


Across the years and ever, even unto the last

with sylvan word by word, verse by verse

is my soul touched by the great men and women poets of the past


no matter how distant it may ...

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Dreaming of a dream

Hers are spheres of  a life  and love I immeasurably desire

orbiting around this soul, this heart, this mind

beloved encircling rotations I pray never expire

but draw nearer to my inner world and there its truth to find


that more reverence to her yet within me dwells

in unrelenting tidal form

day by day a sweet tsunami of liberation come to divinely swell

if any imprisoni...

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Those ever useful off-cuts!

FREE WOOD-( it reads )

labelled on large boxes 

outside ' Johnsons Timber '

there as a result of the usual circular saw trimming  to size procedures

those ' trimmings '  for recycling purposes by anyone inclined to use them.


I remember seeing

the sawdust eyebrowed old Mr Johnson refilling the boxes

dust mask propped on his thin-haired head

like a little party hat


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Glowering, these thunderously threatening skies

descending over the darkening clouds reflecting Sea

sullen does become this days demise

shall the night's continuance not dissimilar be?

Oh Sun! oh Sun! though you have left us alone, may you brightly hasten! hasten!

to meet the ghost of dawns resurrection on the morrow cast

while in slumberings, our consciousnesses are gently overc...

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The old unanswerable question

Doubtless, it is that we are mere pawns

nevertheless how we cling to self-pride

some, while wearing faces facade veneered

keep secret the civil wars raging inside

do we own ourselves or are we owned

by an unseen force covertly playing with our fates game

helplessly are we moved about on or removed from the field of play

to be glorified or glory denied and depending on belief, 


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Bombshell of suddenly imposed singularity

She wept and wept in her dimly lit bedroom

illuminated slightly by, was it a pitying star?

but the fractional glow in the dead gloom

weakened like the hopes in her heart time would mar,


Across the bed no longer his presence

once there had shared in their desires

his loves heartwarming flow deep and incessant

gone now the romancing flames of his soul's fire.


And so...

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And in the right hand corner Leon ' raging bull ' Stolgard!

Time to get into my metaphorical armour

reach for my imaginary lance

raise the portcullis and ride out

to engage in and dispel any Po'ish like chance

of overwhelming my superior word force

till literary death is inflicted on mine enemy so harshly severe

and reap not just the victory of poetic battle

but the fair hand of Queen Moongirl of my love she needn't fear

we shall th...

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Back into the realms of madness!

A derring-do dashing young ( string pulling ) poet knighted by Prince Andrew Sir Po

because of the virus to his castles can't go

so these past weeks he spent

inside a hired ten pence a day tent

I can see him from the window of my warm bungalow


occasionally he accidentally sticks out his bare rump

that has a good facial likeness to Don Trump

and in the split down the middl...

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Barefaced cheek!

Diagnosed as being allergic to clothing

Doc insisted I must go about in the nude

to which I replied but won't I get arrested and tried

for being publically rude?

said he, my advice although you may find it not nice is the most you best be is foot-shoed

So obeying his medical order the next day naked stepped out

but having, not gone too far

a  woman badly shocked  as she went p...

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Condoning devilry

He continues to be swayed by so much

by all wrongfulnesses

that it is not possible for him

in any way

to want to do any lasting good.


He goes on stooping

for the windfalls

from the trees of darkness


turning the corner of his old worn-out beliefs

finds there how to look deeper

into the tenebrous side of his soul


doing this

is to have the last dregs...

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A poem from the book of me

I can beat death to the punch if I want to

or go on wearing out the Earths skin 

until she holds me in a clay fist.


Sometimes, I think I have wasted her supportive time

in acting, like the King of Clowns

pretending to look as though I really know myself

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


During the clocks subtractions,

I peck like a bedraggl...

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Of the counting down

When my youthfulness was running sweetly

and of age did not anticipate

assumed immortality my life be filled completely

not knowing, time the stranger would not wait.


With that stupidly blind assumption

any thoughts of death were furthest from my mind

but the ticking clocks consumption

had my grim guaranteed certificate duly signed


How shocked when my realisations


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She whose loving nature for me constantly blooms

dispersing all moping dreary December glooms

much needed her passionate warmth in these sleeting ice-bound days

sun goldenly brightened my heart, chased is any brooding

                                                                                               sadly blue or grey

at the hearth, of her soul's fire vacates for me a pl...

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Love unquestionably

There she goes behind my back

there she goes again

not in my direction as should always be

instead and gamely towards dirty, minded men

but I will bide my time and, sacrifice my all

though suffering so deep within

for, to me, that is the strength of love

far stronger than that of any sin.

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Johnny's old roller

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I wonder if he

my hero John Winston that is

the rhythm guitar playing Beatle

assassinated husband of Yoko

would have agreed with having his beloved

psychedelically painted Rolls Royce

resprayed back to its original colour

of ( I'm presuming ) white

white as white goods

following his death?


And I wonder if that Beatle adored machine

is still rolling on

( lik...

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Grinning and bearing it

Mornings in the privacy of his high rise cold water flat

always found him staring lengthily 

into the cracked shaving mirror

whose split reflection was once more to deny

any of his resemblances to youth


but the denial could not impede

his gifted ' dust my self down and start all over again' habit

that self-mocking grin at his facial wear and tear


not that impish k...

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Comparing evaluations of Natures omnipresence's

When beholding the decaying scorn

of Autumns imposition on Summers spirit-lifting days and nights

no contempt of this season is within me born

no happiness within me takes to flight.


For oft when in my Autumnal walking ways have once more found

how wonderfully,  fierily red and gold leaf carpets

beautify the woodland paths beneath my feet

knowing too of how those little l...

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Magic Mechanic

My buddy, 'Charlie Chop Shop'

top guy at cannibalising scrap vehicles

of any age, any model

meticulously, surgically, goes about his

Frankensteining of parts and body panels

into Mad Maxian fast and furious beasts

that become famed for their zany designs


to roaringly eat up every unlimited sped mile after mile


and the resprayed colours?

why, Demonic red...

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Knife edge of love

Perturbed by love and lovelessness strangely mixed

knowing too well of she who smiles for me

while her heart plays tricks

deceitful her passion, yet siren-like her call

so much this desire of mine for her overwhelms my cautions all

seeds of love I have planted prayed they would grow and please

hoping rewards to come would be fully rich in truth

not like of old her cruel ways t...

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Hush time

Quiet night

becalmed as any ocean

untroubled by tempestuousness.


Sulphorously black brushed

quarried stone houses

are keeping themselves to themselves for now


no smokey quills

from ignited peat or log fire

leaves a single chimney


no dreamers depart their dreams 

or cats uncurl from their cosy beds 


and as the dust's of domesticity settle

the ...

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On a mist free Yorkshire Dales day

you can see the grass cropped hillside evidence

of where sheep have been.


Their woollen locks due for shearing

soon will Shepards, Collies and their canine cousins

frequent the scene


to oversee the seven to eight-hour herding descent (!)

but how little recompense do farmers receive

for such hard labours in all inclement weathers ...

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morbid reversals

I shouldn't keep going back

to my past life

has been given the widespread advice


as if it were a shamed planet

of contagious uselessness

time and time again-dead time-ravaged

wistfully windblown


with nothing there but regurgitations of decay

for whatever purposes

I have in my weak, self-pitying

regretfully burdened mind


continuing to gravitationally ...

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Natures impressions of Heaven

Shrugging off Winters coat

and Spring will soon be holding hands with Summer

Leaves having fully detailed their presences

on once undressed trees


and I take in the air of happiness

brushing fields and lanes so closely

that it has almost become a garment

I am privileged to wear


It is a warmly appreciated repetition

of unwrapping Earths gifts

and so many other...

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Self maintenance

From the strange things I encounter

prone to Goliath-like falls

I must recoil


retreat from them all

and gain common sense

born in honest hearts and minds

permanently constructed with materials of clarity


not with ill-fitting words

incapable of landing in the right places

of my thoughts


but those clearer than spring water

rippling with gentle inspirat...

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When forgiveness becomes a forgotten word

Your deceit

has wolfs teeth, stained

with the prey blood red

of the trust I afforded you

which is now a grievance


you have chewed me up and spat me out

too many times.

My loves death is almost complete

but I remain determined not to be denied

at least one small victory


determined to blunt the last bite of your lying words

and after doing so

look back b...

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Coach trip tiff

I'd no sooner asked sleepy you to pass me one of my sweets

than you having thrust your hand into my bag

extended the packet towards me with a slight frown

as if to say ' I'm not your bloody servant! '


or was there some other underlying reason

that caused your the look of facial discomfort I wonder

simmering on the back burner of your mind?


so before I accepted them 


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Nightly submergences

The waking flicker of your eyes

unsurprisingly tear-filled

since you have risen from the sad dream charged

darkened haunts of unfathomable depths

where the remains of sunken loves

abide beneath that subconscious surface


you see and hoard their faces again

they are the burden of your hearts lost chances


still waiting as ever

to hold you in their wavering embrace...

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She Virgin to the He Virgin

Tenderly place yourself within me

calm and help satisfy our soul's unrest

let hesitations melt away

allow love to be our guest


In a secret concave of this summers meadow

bedded are we on deep, sweet floral scented grass

let us be at one with passionate pleasure

as the cares of the day uncared for pass


Worry not about the world's problems near or far encircling


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MF blips on my mental health radar

There, is the grim reminding Mill tower

a dull giant, seemingly top-heavy with overcast grey clouds

and there are the troublesome youths at its feet

they have nothing but intentions to disturb in their minds

window smashing, obscene graffiti spraying, urinating anywhere

they have stolen the peace that was

combining their refusals to respect anything from the hard old days



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