Ekphrastic Poetry · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

The Willow Am I

The Willow Am I

 

Some people live in the night

While owls of the morning sleep,

And small raindrops creep in the dusk

Like birds of prey upon the dewy grass.

 

The Willow am I, punished by the hidden sun

That laughs on the edge of night

As I curse the screaming dawn

And burning dew of darkness

To find that subtle light

Embedded in my timeless searching.

 

How I panic at my failure

To touch its screen from within and without.

I will drown in its rain of sight renewed,

And my thirsty roots,

Blinded in the dark earth,

Shall drink of its golden liquid.

 

Copyright ©2018/03/23 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: “Sun’s Treasure” digital art ©Martha Harris

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Ekphrastic Poetry · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

This Sand

This Sand

 

This sand,

Tiny bits of earth and rock,

Marking paths through thickets.

This ground, stomped flat

By those in search of berries,

Ambling lovers

With secrets in flowers.

 

This sand,

Tiny bits of earth and rock,

Creating mosaics and desert dust

Under hot sun,

A bed for cacti

Stretching to oasis.

 

This sand,

Tiny bits of earth and rock,

Amassed into clay,

Forming bricks for castles,

Mortar for walls,

Concrete for roads,

And glass for windows.

 

This sand,

Tiny bits of earth and rock,

Drenched in the tides

Of hungry waves

Pulling beachcombers

Toward the sea, and

Making a bed for

The feathers of gulls.

 

This sand,

Each tiny bit of sand,

Chiseled down from earth and rock

Into specks of hardened dust,

Beseeching the Light,

 

Am I enough

To hold up this world?

 

Am I enough

To bear this grace?

 

 

 

Poem: Copyright © 2018/03/18 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

 

Image: “Sands of Time” digital art ©Martha Harris

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Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

What Do You Do?

What Do You Do?

What do you do

For a homeless soul,

Flailing in the dissipating self,

Swallowing night air,

Gasping for breath as though

Seized by swarms as they

Emerge in their flight

To cloud-capped ridges

Of thunder slapping

The weary heart

Locked in despair?

The Eye sees;

The One knows.

 

Copyright© 2017/12/04 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: pixabay.com

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry · Reiki

This New Earth

 

 

This New Earth

The summer harvest

Has been reaped

To feed our souls.

The last bounty gone

To the dust of leaves,

Clinging to the mother branch

Until the swirling breeze

Seizes them for the ground

To heal the soil, dried

From August drought.

 

One last fruit,

Grateful for the light,

Ferociously clings here,

Where the kale is anchored

Hardy with a new tree.

My Self, infused

With that last soup, and

Thankful for summer’s

Nurturing days and

Garden of plenty.

 

This is the time for us

To turn the soil and for

The soul to sleep

With the ashes of life

Embedded in earth

To grow new roots

That take us deeper

To higher self,

Birthing and swaddled

In drifting snow.

 

Where it’s cold,

There is deep healing,

It is said.

 

Energy moves in swirls,

Truth emanating in

Vortexes descending

To inner self and

Soul ascending as a sun,

A brilliance of rainbows

Wound around the Tree of Life

To shine on new gardens

Planted in young ground

Fertile with worms.

 

We are the Gardeners

Of This New Earth;

We are the Cycle of Light.

 

Copyright© 2017/11/17 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Images: my garden

 

 

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Haiku · Poem · Poetry

Oh, Child

A

Oh, Child

Oh, Child,

How you hold your form.

Soul of infant stars

Ready to go nova.

Bud of tree

Rooting in familiar soil

Infusing wisdom.

Hatchling of hope,

Fledging of wing,

Seeking flight to All.

Leaf, spring green,

Uncurling for air

With perfect fingers.

Pure soul,

Chaste stream,

How you feed life,

How you inspire love.

May you breathe in Light.

May you be Light.

Copyright© 2017/11/12 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: https://pixabay.com/en/baby-gerbera-female-girl-bokeh-1953385/

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Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

Sleep Sit

Sleep Sit

Fields of rice

Beating sun heat

Hands for hoes

Dry dirt for shoes

Meals over fires

Water to haul

On bent back

In a land with no shade

Bits of life

Carved into the skin as

Canyons and dried rivers

Crossing each other or

Stitches of the days

Woven like a rug for prayer

And held in two hands

With the rising moon

Of slumbering eyes

 

Copyright© 2017/11/10 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: by ThuyHaBich©    https://pixabay.com/en/portrait-sleep-sit-2870659/

 

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Betrayed!

Betrayed

When I first found you,

I thought you were the real deal,

Handsome and of means.

Your mystery and promises

Of jewelry and charitable contributions,

Maybe even a luscious meal with fine wine.

Your credentials looked superb at first glance.

How no one had found you before

Is beyond me, but there you were,

Out there where all could see and in my grasp.

I felt blessed for my good works perhaps or

Just my generous nature, attracting value.

I kept you hidden, my treasure!

How I bragged about my new love!

Friends and family celebrating this bond we made –

No one had ever found such a prize just by chance! –

Until we discovered your true worth

Upon scrutiny as it unfolded!

Your heart, counterfeit;

Our love, a sham!

How duped I was by your smile and

Those eyes, your vivid presence;

Your charisma was regal;

Your sources, trusted;

Your history, infallible!

I was blind and hopeful that the treasure was authentic;

My dreams were shattered by your fake demeanor,

A mere cheap costume!

My fall from grace hit me hard.

You are but a cheap imitation.

Those eyes, mocking slits,

Your smile, a sneer!

My love, a low and vile scoundrel in waiting

For an innocent soul.

 

Copyright© 2017/11/08 Barbara Harris Leonhard                                     @extraordinarysunshine weaver.wordpress.com

Image: The fake 100-dollar bill printed by the United Stars of Halloween. I found this folded up on grass along a pathway I was walking on and trying to clean up just to be a good citizen. I felt pretty excited and told everyone I had found 100 dollars! Well, upon closer examination if the bill, I found It was just paper. I was so disappointed and, of course, embarrassed that I hadn’t been more discerning in my excitement. The whole incident reminded me of love gone wrong out of in-authenticity.