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Neil McLeod' Profile

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About Me and My Poetry

Born in Oxford, raised in Kenya, and came to America as a Fulbright Scholar to study dentistry at U.S.C., Dr McLeod is past winner of Los Slamgeles Poetry Slam and author of abitingchance.blogspot.com and "The First Thanksgiving". Doctor McLeod is a performing poet who has recited at Highland Games, dinners and Burns Nights for the last 36 years. He is happily married, lives and works in Los Angeles,has three children, and practices as a dentist on Sunset Boulevard:http://www.drneilmcleod.com/ He can be contacted by e-mail at drneilmcleod@yahoo.com and will willingly entertain requests to share his work with permission.

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About My Poem


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A hunting story about Wendell Lippincott, who served in the United States Army in Germany, was a devout Christian, never missed church, and was an excellent shot. Written for his son, Marc my new friend who related this tale standing while in the snow beside a cabin as we changed our snow chains.
Lake Hume, California, December 2012.

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For my son who fell asleep Holding a knightly pose.

Here lies Sir Oliver ensconced
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This is a memory of summertime midnight bathing

The party is done,
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You've got to see it
To believe it
The dirt and grime
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Take me down to the water again
I long to walk on the sand.
Walk me down to the water's edge,
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I rise
In the morning
See skies
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I'm excited 'cause I'm leaving,
I'm going away
To a new land over the sea.
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The first prayer for Our Lady of Seven Sorrows, in the oratory at Seven Hills Ranch, was offered up on November 26th 2011 and took the form of two hymns in plainchant, the Ave Maria, and the Salve Regina. The builders and ranch masters halted as time stopped to memorialize the initial sanctification of the new chapel.

There’s a spot in the Valley of Inwood
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BRINGING THE CLAN BACK TO DUNVEGAN
(This is long, its an accumulation poem like the house that Jack built.  If you can not handle it just choose another poem to review - and leave this one be.  Thank you!)

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To Beelzebub and his chums
Go all those who wont floss, the bums,
Now they’re wailing and weeping
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