Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

A Patchwork

Life’s a patchwork

displayed in a frame,

spanning years stopped short

by weathered cloth

Patches stained red,

glorious births, broken hearts,

flower beds lined in ivy, weeded

and preened from Sunday’s best

Snippets of joy

from gowns deceased,

treasured pants, wool for winter,

old work made warm

Edged, frayed

tears, stained in the grain

bliss, the insulator

binding the layers

Thread, seeking out

Heirlooms and memories,

bound by practical choices

and holy thoughts

Patches, gathered like

crops for canning,

blended with gossip,

laughter and prayer

By steady hands of friends and family,

bearing needles like swords,

seaming tight the truth

for others to know.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard



Audio · Poem · Poetry · Reiki

I Am a Revolution

I am a revolution

Invoking symbols

Cradling light

Gifted by my Savior,

Whom I met on a path.


He emerged from the mist-

At first as my father-

Till angels called

In hymns resounding

A chorus of blue, indigo, violet.


From man transformed,

There He stood,

His palms outstretched

And all around Him,

The auras of the ages,

The colors of time,

Silken and white,

Halos with His name.


He held them as a ball,

Vibrating colors

Molded into a gift

For my calling.


He smiled in gratitude

For my humble offering

To carry good in my heart,

A bucket of blossoms

From seeds yet scattered,

Filling the vessels

For gardens to come

This spring and always.


I will walk in His light,

A prismatic path

Lit for onward time.


Held gently in His palms,

Which now envelop me,

I feel wrapped in cashmere

Woven by the Mother of Mysteries.


He appeared as my father-

Whom He once called in light

To minister to others-

So as not to scare me.

Since His power is so great,

I cannot fathom it.

But it was really Him

This time, and so needed.


He whispered many songs,

Harmonious and lyrical,

Such compassion in His hymns

Such grace in His brilliance.


I was so blessed and awed

That He would give me these gifts

Wrapped in shimmering colors

With the lace of clouds

And ribbons of rainbows,

Red, orange, yellow,

Fire pure.


And innocent was I to think

I would meet a lesser Guide.


Why was it for me to find

So great a gift, the Divine.

The answer was clear-

I chose the way that took me there,

For I listened for His call,

And His eyes lit my way.


There we stood in words

Of time stopping.

Many truths are yet

To be received and revealed,

Many gems to find

In the rock face of my soul.


His words, solid beams

Of empyrean fire are

Dispersed on my heart,

Where He gathered me

And where I will take Him

Back down that path.


Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard






Audio · Poem · Poetry

Dark Mother

Dark Mother

Seeks to wed.

Gossamer star dust,

Ancient nights,

The trail of her train,

Her Groom,

The Sun.


Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Getmedia


Audio · Poem · Poetry


Spared a winter but not a spring.

Hail thrashes, splitting the wind

Into crystals lit by flashes,

Revealing shadows touching down

Like long fingers pointing curses.


My husband, the one-eyed lamp,

In our basement cave,

Checking the radar on his I-phone.

The cats subdued by the growling wind,

Finding refuge under a table by their litter.


And I, swathed in a blanket,

Sitting on the porta-potty seat,

Left over from a surgery,

To remain a throne in a storm.

My messages failed to send.


Roars diminishing to low growls,

Lightning flails like extinguishing flames,

Thunder stomps like a child wanting attention.

It passes over without forgiving.

New-born daffodils embracing the deluge now strain for morning.

Even storms are gifts.


Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Brusheezy (free download)