Audio · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

The Poet Dreamer

 The Poet Dreamer

Our lives are nights bereft of cogent dreams,

Sleep of light thought of lines of poems

Forgotten upon rising.

We are poets searching for truth in all dimensions

Much less our own lives,

Our greatest dream and illusion.

 

The mind plays tricks as symbols contest each other

In active play as we slumber away our hours.

Our day dreams are adventures with abstract layers

Of indecipherable, chaotic images and

Archetypes creating a play of poems.

Elusive are the truths hidden on the stages of dreams within dreams.

 

In which dream are we?

We are dreamers fighting our minds

To make sense of signs and symbols.

Each day we dream our stories of

Mystery, terror, rhapsody, and salvation,

As we seek order in identity, our place in creation.

 

Our days are collages of metaphors and entanglements,

Battles with shadows, and fictional accounts of

Victory and defeat; glory and grief.

Truth is elusive and well hidden in then

Confusion of interpretations of our delusions

Of self and others.

 

Life is a play of art unfolding in a labyrinth of

Paths interlinking the past, present, and future;

This dream of life is not linear;

It is a chaotic muddle of symbols and

Lines of thought with no intersection for truths to gather

For directions on this journey.

 

Life too is a kaleidoscope of truths

Brought into focus in vivid moments of contemplation

In which we awaken to capture flashes of

Brilliant insights as lucid dreamers.

That is the irony;

That is the poetry.

 

© September 14, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Original Digital Art: “The Poet Dreamer” ©Martha Harris  See Martha’s Artistic Flarings@artisticflarings.blog

 

Acrostic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

Butterfly Dreams

Butterfly Dreams

In our slumber,

We shed the chrysalis.

Our dreams rise

As dawn’s light

From the wellspring

Of our hearts.

Tender, young, transitory visions

Lapsing into morning sun

As though the breeze

Carries them away

Before we capture the drift

Of these souls’ stories,

Gliding away in colors

Cast in sacred shapes and designs.

 

© 2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image “Butterfly Dreams” ©Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

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.

Audio · Poem · Poetry

I Am Desire

I Am Desire

I am Desire in a broken cage.

I dare not feel the light

Dressing the bent bars and

Caressing my great mane.

I dare not smell the blooms,

The fragrance of my dreams.

I dare not touch the lambs

Curled at my feet

Just beyond my slumber.

Surrounding me,

Umber clouds of doubts.

Are those blossoms my soul’s yearning

Just out of my grasp?

Do they know my worth?

Dare I break free

Of this cage, my womb,

To witness my own birth?

 

Copyright©  2017/10/07 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: pinterest.com  

 

Audio · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

The Poet Dreamer

 The Poet Dreamer

Our lives are nights bereft of cogent dreams,

Sleep of light thought of lines of poems

Forgotten upon rising.

We are poets searching for truth in all dimensions

Much less our own lives,

Our greatest dream and illusion.

 

The mind plays tricks as symbols contest each other

In active play as we slumber away our hours.

Our day dreams are adventures with abstract layers

Of indecipherable, chaotic images and

Archetypes creating a play of poems.

Elusive are the truths hidden on the stages of dreams within dreams.

 

In which dream are we?

We are dreamers fighting our minds

To make sense of signs and symbols.

Each day we dream our stories of

Mystery, terror, rhapsody, and salvation,

As we seek order in identity, our place in creation.

 

Our days are collages of metaphors and entanglements,

Battles with shadows, and fictional accounts of

Victory and defeat; glory and grief.

Truth is elusive and well hidden in then

Confusion of interpretations of our delusions

Of self and others.

 

Life is a play of art unfolding in a labyrinth of

Paths interlinking the past, present, and future;

This dream of life is not linear;

It is a chaotic muddle of symbols and

Lines of thought with no intersection for truths to gather

For directions on this journey.

 

Life too is a kaleidoscope of truths

Brought into focus in vivid moments of contemplation

In which we awaken to capture flashes of

Brilliant insights as lucid dreamers.

That is the irony;

That is the poetry.

 

© September 14, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Original Digital Art: “The Poet Dreamer” ©Martha Harris  See Martha’s Artistic Flarings@artisticflarings.blog

 

Audio · Micropoetry · Poem · Poetry

Spider Webs

Spider webs entrap my house

Tangled memories?

Buried dreams?

Perhaps

A trove of treasures

Caught in the light

And not defiled by dusters.

Just for me to find.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: https://www.seeker.com/ai-recognizes-different-spider-webs-1767361988.html

Audio · Poem · Poetry

The Eye

The sprays of light on the floor
Form beasts on haunches with claws stretched
As if ready to pounce.
On the wall, the moonlight prints a window,
For me to view the Netherworld,
With wind thrashing the trees.
On the door, a reptilian eye,
Cast by light and shadows,
Holding court over my dreams.
A sigil unlocking mysteries and riddles
To solve in nightmares.

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Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: http://rusly-dreamsabouteyes.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-dreams-about-eyes-mean.html

Image: http://justine1985.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Forest-170314104