Essays · Healing · Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry · Poetry · Publication · Reiki · Tai Chi · Writing

Broken Womb, Shattered Soul: Living with Infertility (part 3)

The final section of my article on infertility is up on Phoebe,MD: Medicine + Poetry. Links to the other sections are provided. I am grateful to Phoebe and her beautiful site for being a major part of my journey with memoir writing.

Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry

By Barbara Leonhard | Featured Contributor


[Click forPart 1andPart 2]

The bandage torn
From new flesh
Releases wails
The wound still
Imbibes air
The scab hides
deep repair
Let it rest. Wait
In time the scar
Records a fate

I learned that healing is a deep process. We may heal a physical wound, but to become whole, we need to heal emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. We need to dig into the old grout of our deep being. Moreover, we must trust help is available.

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Healing · Memoir · Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry · Poem · Poetry · Publication

Broken Womb, Shattered Soul: Living with Infertility (part 2)

Thank you, Phoebe! I hope my story continues to help others who have had to deal with infertility.

Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry

By Barbara Leonhard | Featured Contributor


[Click here for Part 1]

Depression developed and flourished because I grieved so much over loss of fertility.

Women who are childless miss out on a great deal. They never feel what it is like to have a life growing, kicking and wiggling inside of them; to cry out during the birth of a baby (a rite of passage to celebrate with girlfriends); to watch over and even to grow with a child through sickness and health, all the milestones of birthdays, graduations, marriage, and the births of grandchildren. I have even grieved not being able to be the tooth fairy, help my kids find Easter eggs, read them bedtime stories, take them to the zoo.

Feeling apart from and not a part of the tribe still saddens me. I find I am left out of conversations about all those life passages women…

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Free Verse Revolution · Memoir · My Screaming Twenties · Poem · Poetry · Publication

Betrayed – Barbara Leonhard

Thank you, FREE VERSE REVOLUTION!

Image: The fake 100-dollar bill printed by the United States of Halloween. I found this treasure 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 of 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.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

When I first found you,

I thought you were the real deal,

Handsome and of means.

Your mystery, promises

Of jewelry and charitable contributions,

Maybe even a luscious meal with fine wine.

Your credentials, 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,

My generous nature, attracting value.

I kept you hidden, my treasure!

How I bragged about my new love!

Friends and family celebrated this bond –

No one had ever found such a prize

Just by chance! –

Until I discovered your true worth

Upon scrutiny as it unfolded!

Your heart, counterfeit;

Our love, a sham!

How duped I was by your smile.

Those eyes, your vivid presence;

Your charisma, regal!

Your sources, trusted!

Your history, infallible!

My dreams, blind, hopeful the…

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Ekphrastic Poetry · Free Verse Revolution · Martha's Artistic Flarings · My Screaming Twenties · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry · Publication · Recognition/ Honor

Sunday Best: phantom

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My poem “Dark Apostle” ranked top of three best chosen for this past week’s challenge, Phantom. My sister, Martha Harris, created the digital image, “The Devil’s in the Details”. Thank you FREE VERSE REVOLUTION!

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

Dear reader,

I hope you are well; staying safe and healthy.

Catch up on this week’s pieces for the theme ‘Illusion’:

Tuesday – Megha Sood

Wednesday – L. Stevens

Thursday – Robert Ronnow

Friday – Prathami

Saturday – Jaya Avendel


This week’s prompt was ‘phantom’ and responses were posted across WordPress and Instagram, here are the top three:

Dark Apostle – Barbara Leonhard

A list of sordid memories – I. D. Bora (@mymusings.2018 on Instagram)

  1. of my pleated skirt and dried rusty brown patches on it. like maps in an atlas. the horror that followed amongst my batchmates as they giggled. ‘oh! that girl’
  2. a hound whose shadowy presence and untamed eyes trailed my footsteps.
  3. that phantom being who i thought could trust. who played piano in the dark. whose fingers so dextrous over the keys. found their way to my thighs then to my knees as my voice choked…

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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

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…

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