Loop Poem

In Autumn (Two Drafts)

This is a loop poem, in which the last word of a line begins the next line. This first draft seemed bland to me, so I revised it by adding details and being looser with the rules for loop poems. I feel the looping can create unnecessary repetition and restrict exploration unless I can loosen up and stretch the boundaries of the form. What do you think?

Draft 1

Autumn is the lesson of leaves
leaves cling to branches in storms
storms batter the stronghold of trees
trees stand with grand resolve
resolve to hold their ground
ground captures falling leaves
leaves take to earth like sawdust
sawdust of fallen trees in sun
sun, the ancient watcher of autumn.

Draft 2

Autumn is the lesson of dying leaves.

Leaves, once lush from summer rain, cling to branches for life in storms.

Midday thunder storms batter the stronghold of bristling trees.

Aged trees, their arms flailing, stand with grand resolve,

a resolve to hold their place on eroded ground.

The wasted ground complies to capture the fallen.

Fallen leaves take to earth like the sand of ocher sawdust.

The ocher sawdust of shedding trees lies parched in low sun.

The sun, the ancient watcher of late autumn.

 

poem and image: ©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Poem · Poetry

Cocoons

Rice cooks,

sheaths burst,

steam rises for sacral birth.

 

Seeds hold life

released by light.

Flowers unfold deep soul

in germination.

 

Such is life as it unfolds

From seed to crypt.

Genesis is not kind.

We break free of the organ &

in the pain of delivery,

engage in battle.

 

A crust of fear

enfolds the heart as

love’s armor defends

the wounded self.

 

We break through the barrier.

The heart wall collapses to tinder.

Pain dissolves as we prevail in labor

for our ascent to a new plane

swaddled with grace.

 

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©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Featured Images: Pixabay.com

Earth Mother Image: by Pandanna Imagen from Pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Loop Poem

In Autumn (Two Drafts)

This is a loop poem, in which the last word of a line begins the next line. This first draft seemed bland to me, so I revised it by adding details and being looser with the rules for loop poems. I feel the looping can create unnecessary repetition and restrict exploration unless I can loosen up and stretch the boundaries of the form.

Draft 1

Autumn is the lesson of leaves
leaves cling to branches in storms
storms batter the stronghold of trees
trees stand with grand resolve
resolve to hold their ground
ground captures falling leaves
leaves take to earth like sawdust
sawdust of fallen trees in sun
sun, the ancient watcher of autumn.

Draft 2

Autumn is the lesson of dying leaves.

Leaves, once lush from summer rain, cling to branches for life in storms.

Midday thunder storms batter the stronghold of bristling trees.

Aged trees, their arms flailing, stand with grand resolve,

a resolve to hold their place on eroded ground.

The wasted ground complies to capture the fallen.

Fallen leaves take to earth like the sand of ocher sawdust.

The ocher sawdust of shedding trees lies parched in low sun.

The sun, the ancient watcher of late autumn.

 

poem and image: ©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Poem · Poetry · Quadrille

Keep

This poem is for a challenge at dVerse~Poets Pub to write a poem of 44 words (Quadrille) using the word ‘Keep’.

Keep is to cherish

as love undenied.

Keep is to perish

as vinegar from wine.

Keep is to guard

like gold bricks and silver.

Keep is too hard

if unsafe in the river.

Keep is for secrets

Not for surrender.

Keep is a keeper.

©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Poem · Poetry

Status: Unfriended

We took for granted those easy days,

believing in bonds, implicit contracts,

soul groups, & kinships. Hugs were warm

& kisses real. We could smell the hot coffee

brewing for the brunches.

 

Life…the miles…

left us in the wilderness

without food or drink or matches,

only emojis, tags, and Messenger.

 

We foraged & survived.

We still upheld each in

sickness & in health

with laughter, long chats,

likes, dislikes, loves, hearts,

birthday greetings & get-well wishes.

 

Then into the cloud, you suddenly leave,

a departure unannounced…unexpected.

An enigma now separates us

without the tough talk

that can actually heal us –

Why?

 

A quick impulse?

A quandary of loyalties?

A careless regard for our Light?

A boundary?

Jealousy?

Revenge?

Fear?

 

The vase that held our flower has smashed.

Can gold ever realign the deep rifts in this vessel?

Who will mop up the mess that is us?

 

Our paths split on the labyrinth –

Will this winding course ever lead us to

rediscovery and reclamation –

or to isolation?

 

We slip away from memories

as though Death claims us.

Shock & grief swell though

there is no memorial,

no grave to tend to.

 

All that is not aligned falls away.

Was this connection illusory?

Status: Unfriended. Heart Broken

 

©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: Pixabay.com

Poem · Poetry · Recognition/ Honor · Writing

Sunday Best: Light & Scars

It’s so nice to get recognition for your work! Thank you so much, Free Verse Revolution.

Dear Readers, please scroll down to the part on Scars.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

Dear reader,

First of all, my apologies for missing last week’s Sunday Best post. This week’s will provide you a catch up of both last week and this week on FVR, as a result of my forgetfulness. Without further ado:

Tuesday – HLR & Mark Tulin

Wednesday – Rachel Finch & Daniela Marin 

Thursday – RL Pencil to Paper Series & The Mush from the Hill

Friday – Megha Sood & Taylor Grace

Saturday – B.M.H & V.J.Knutson


There have been two writing prompts – ‘Never lose your light’ (in honour of FVR’s founder, Nicholas Gagnier) and ‘Scars’.

‘Never lose your light’ received three wonderful responses, linked below:

for Virgie – mb

Sacred light – judeitakali

Light in the cave – Phillip Knight Scott

‘Scars’ has received an overwhelming amount of response on WordPress and Instagram, so here are the top three:

Scars – Ranting Wordsmith

The Art of Warfare:…

View original post 52 more words

Bagua · Poem · Poetry · Tai Chi · Writing

The Art of Warfare: Enter the Dragon

He sees me at a distance

from the Salvation Army.

The soft glow of my white hair,

my short stature & square hips,

a slight limp,

a slow stride,

I am an easy mark to a

desperate bully.

 

Mam! Mam!

Come here!

Come here!

It’s like he’s found his prize.

 

He doesn’t see these deep lines

tracing the fingerprints of my soul

on my small face.

Each mark, a scar,

a battle won.

I am no kitten!

 

Come HERE! He commands.

I hear shouts of dominance,

impatience & irritation.

Does he think I’ll cross to HIS side!?

I veer into the parking lot of a bank.

It’s CLOSED!

 

Mam!

He is crossing the

street in pursuit of me!

Come HERE!

He demands like he is

calling the pigs.

 

I take to the ATM area to get to

Broadway.

He’s advancing!

Leave me alone! I yell.

Go AWAY!

 

He’s on my back.

MAM! MAM!

Give me MONEY!

 

Leave me alone!

Go AWAY NOW!

I do not cower to extortion.

My duty is to self!

 

Give me MONEY! MONEY!

He flashes the cigarette butt

burning into his fingers.

He shows his teeth,

planted cock-eyed behind

tense lips.

 

I show him my piercing eyes. The flames,

my shield, my sword.

I am no stranger to bullies.

NO MONEY!

GO AWAY!

 

I advance to his face.

My scars deepen as I scowl.

My spirit finds its gateway.

My light is charged.

 

He persists, speaking loudly in

Another language, but not imploring.

He isn’t my tribe. He doesn’t know

the rules here.

 

I’ve read the Art of War.

Do not press a desperate

soul too hard,” says Sun Tzu.

 

However, I assess the enemy’s

slight build.

Should he touch me,

I’ll advance & strike him

under the jaw with the root of

my palm & throw him into the

ATM.  His screams will be filmed.

 

MONEY! NOW!

He practically hits me with his

near-empty bottle of Dr. Pepper.

I see no tears or pleas

for pity. Only dominance

over an old lady.

 

Show your banners &

beat your drums,” says Sun.

 

I glare at the offender

with the eyes of a dragon.

Don’t let my shape or size

deceive you,

I am a round stone

gaining momentum

down a steep slope.

I will sweep you away

into a chasm.

 

Still he demands money. His tone,

You, Woman, give me money!

 

NO! I yell.

Leave me ALONE!

Go AWAY!

 

Sun Tzu says, “On contentious ground,

attack not. Lure the enemy by

pretending to flee.

 

One moment. I suddenly nod my head.

I open my purse & the perpetrator doesn’t

grab it.

He thinks I’m getting money, but

I take out the phone.

Police! I yell, I’m calling the POLICE!

911!  POLICE!

 

I gather myself, my troops, & my honor.

I withdraw slowly, back onto Broadway,

my eyes always on my foe.

I wave my phone at him as

a new saber.

 

The baying jackal curses me &

retreats into the shadows.
Battle bleeds another scar.

Victory, purifying fire.

Harmony, restored.

 

Such is the art of warfare,”

says the smiling Sage.

 

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©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: Google search, Sun Tzu, The Art of War