Memoir · Poem · Poetry · Publication · Spillwords · Writing

New Publication: My Hair Eats Everything

I’m delighted Spillwords Press published one of my poems.

My Hair Eats Everything

 

My Hair Eats Everything

Silver pelage. Static cling

Velcro mouth gulping my life.

My hair, a pantry of my days.

Famished patron of my past.

It shows in my sheen, the shine

Of a clean plate.

 

Baby hair matted with egg,

Pureed peas, sour milk, spaghetti sauce,

Bits of cereal. Mom’s cleansing spit

Over my crown. Kisses planted

In the soil of my hair. Luster of life

Grows into a hungry coif.

 

The long stems of flowers

Woven into braids. My first perfume,

Splashes of hot lavender baths,

Swashes of wet polish, and Dippity-Do

Cling to my curls and create a crown

Of a complex banquet.

 

Grandpa’s musty garage, his yard

Of lake breeze. The smell of sand

Tangles my hair into my mouth.

The steam of Grandma’s fried sausage, rising dough,

Stewed chicken, spilled honey from toast,

Dad’s Old Spice snared by my hair.

 

Sweat from the Ex’s hands

His bad breath on my frizz.

Bloody spittle of squabble,

His ashtray, blight of air,

Day-old wine and stale beer

Linger on my dead ends

 

Mother’s ambrosia steeps

My life, the whiff of her red lipstick,

Her aromatic apron, her savory hugs,

Her last breath as I held the phone

To her ear for goodbyes. The anguish

Of her affliction infuses me.

 

My hair swells fragrance

Of holy spring rain. Tiny fingers of new leaves

Sniff of pin oak to my roots. Sticky juice

Of tomato vines cling to my gray locks

As I reach for the fruit. Strands of silver

Extend from cloud. The scent of sun.

 

©Barbara Leonhard

extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul (meelosmom.podbean.com)

my featured image by ivanovgood, pixabay.com

Fullbeardlit.org · Go Dog Go Cafe · Recognition/ Honor · Writing

TP Haiku and Sunday Chat with Steve 3/15/20, the one where I thank old friends of the Cafe

Kind remarks from a wonderful support to writers!

Go Dog Go Café

White square rarity What else can serve your purpose? No one wants to know ~ Em C. 3.14.20

TP Haiku

Go Dog Go Cafe friends, baristas and guests… some of you may recall that the idea of an Internet coffee shop for writers was inspired by an exchange I had with Poet Girl Em a few years back. So when Christine approached me about starting a collective, I merged the Go Dog Go Treetop idea she and I had bantered about in comments with the Coffee Shop idea Em and I had bantered about and the Go Dog Go Cafe was born. Check out the About page for details…

Anywho… Em had been pretty quiet around these Word Press parts but she has come back with a humorous flourish with this haiku! Take the time to visit the First Friend of the Cafe and a dear old blogging friend of…

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Healing · Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry · Prose · Publication · Writing

Broken Womb, Shattered Soul: Living with Infertility (part 1)

Phoebe, MD:Medicine + Poetry Has just published the first part of an article I wrote on my infertility caused by Diethylstilbestrol, or DES. Although this drug is no longer prescribed to pregnant women to prevent miscarriages, it has been shown that this drug affected not only daughters and sons born between 1941 and 1971 but also their children. This is my story as a DES Daughter.

 

Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry

By Barbara Leonhard | Featured Contributor


As we grow and develop, we learn how to identify with many labels or roles, such as daughter/son, aunt/uncle, mother/father, and grandmother/grandfather, to name a few. It seems as though our stories are written before we are born to conform to these labels. In a way, these roles become rituals that comfort us as we agree to them and even expect our lives to go “as planned” based on our social codes and blueprints for survival.

I know I certainly expected my life to unfold much like my mother’s life did with marriage and family. She had seven children, and being the second oldest and oldest girl, I was able to help with all the babies she had. It never occurred to me that I would never be able to have my own children. Little did I know that my helping her at…

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Poem · Publication · Recognition/ Honor

Three Flakes on the Front Door by Barbara Leonhard (MY FRONT DOOR Series)

I’m so delighted that Silver Birch Press published my poem “Three Flakes on the Front Door“. Last winter, these three cut outs of snow flakes appeared on our front door. I took a picture. We never found out who gifted the designs. However, it inspired a poem!

Silver Birch Press

door 1Three Flakes on the Front Door
by Barbara Leonhard

Front doors, gateways to stories
held in the arms of lovers.
Brides and babies travel
over thresholds that welcome
spring’s warm breeze, summer’s first bees,
autumn’s tumbling leaves, winter’s freeze
for child play in drifts of snow
cushioning the stalwart door,
where Mystery gifts

three flakes, cut-out lives
of transient travel
through passageways to greet
weddings, rituals, blessings,
celebrations, holidays,
date nights, lives guarded
by peepholes
and double-bolt locks
until the last flake
melts.

Clothed in frayed lives,
the dead flutter as birds
released
from their cages
out the front gate
into new gardens.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I find the concepts of doors, portals, and passageways inspiring. One winter day, someone pasted cutouts of three snowflakes on our modest front door. In this poem, I see the three snowflakes as metaphorical for the transience of seasons and the stages of…

View original post 105 more words

artisticflarings.blog · Ekphrastic Poetry · Healing · Martha's Artistic Flarings · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

Dark Apostle

Rising shadows of flames,

dressed in deep void, I arrive

to burn the bramble of your complacent life.

You hide inside this clay façade,

live for self in idle pleasure,

slumber in this carcass

of addiction and desire.

 

I hold you down as you writhe in agony,

thrive on your muffled screams.

You smolder in my odious breath.

My laughter, cackling flames.

You recoil, gasping for prayer,

rebuking this demon

and fear that this blood fire

is your last sunrise. Confess,

 

I fascinate you.

Though cast to the raging depths,

I still rise, a dark angel.

Not all wings are lucent.

This charred cloak is age old,

frayed by lies, greed, addictions.

 

Inferno flames are still divine.

I am the instigator, the phantom fire

plundering your earth

to crack open your seed

and hasten your growth.

 

For this you need me, Dark Apostle,

the harbinger sent to alarm and awaken,

to jolt you from trance

into rebirth.

 

revised The Dark Apostle 05/12/2020

©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog; meelosmom.podbean.com (Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul)

Image: “The Devil’s in the Details”, original digital art, ©Martha Harris. See Martha’s Artistic Flarings@artisticflarings.blog

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

artisticflarings.blog · Digital Art · Healing · Martha's Artistic Flarings · Poem

Sink into Your Knowing

stone skipping over stream

sinks into deep mysteries

magical inner sight

instincts     intuition

magnificent sun

fire blazing wisdom

center earth rising

in shimmering waves

 

“Sink into Your Knowing”, revised an old post, 05/08/2020

©Barbara Harris Leonhard@extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image “Center Earth Rising”: ©Martha Harris, Martha’s Artistic Flarings, artisticflarings.blog

 

Free Verse Revolution · Honors · My Screaming Twenties · Poem · Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul · Publication · Writing

Sunday Best: saplings

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION chose my poem “A Rocky Start” as one of the top three for the weekly challenge Saplings.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

Dear reader,

And so the end of Blossom is here! Thank you to everyone who contributed a piece to this month and to those who have continued to follow, read and share the work published on Free Verse Revolution.

May’s theme is Illusion and contributing slots have disappeared; there are only three remaining which haven’t been filled or reserved. If you are interested in submitted before the submission window closes – see the guidelines here.

To catch up on the final pieces of April:

Tuesday – Holly Rene Hunter

Wednesday – Seraphina

Thursday – Devika Mathur

Friday – Candice Louisa Daquin

Saturday – Tabitha Delaney


This week’s prompt was ‘saplings’ and there were several responses across Instagram and WordPress. Below are the top three: if your piece wasn’t chosen I hope you will continue to respond to May’s prompts, it was a tough call!

A Rocky Start – Barbara Leonhard

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