Poem · Poetry · Waka Poetry

So Long, My Friend

So long, my friend,

How short was your stay.

I was too caught up

In my mindless days

To sit with you

When your blooms were lush and

Singing in the sun and air.

You were glorious

Even when the snow surprised us all.

Still, you held your back up,

And your crown never fell.

You had bounty in your short time.

I could see your joy

As you swayed in the breeze

And drank in the sun and rain.

I took you for granted though

I said I would stop by more often.

Now as your beauty fades

To crumbled blooms,

Your smile drops and fades

Into the beds of periwinkle

Huddled to catch you, yet

You still seem to dance

As the breath of God gently

Blows your ash into soil

For another year.

 

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©Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Images: my yard

 

 

Audio · Healing · Poem · Poetry

Gaia

We are holding in the cries of fear,

Refusing to surrender to truth.

What can come of filling the streams

Of Gaia’s veins with our tears but a flood of pain?

Can the rifts in her ancient skin be healed?

Can canyon walls ever merge into a New Earth

Free of grief and loss?

 

The fingers of the Sun can only reach so far

Into the depths for galactic truth.

Has God succumbed to the Fire?

It cannot be so.

Though dense on the edges of Holy Planes,

Light is there.

Light and Shadow share one spectrum,

Always in battle for healing,

Finding the perfect balance.

 

Where Earth is upheaved grows new bounty.

The pain of ripping soil births potential,

Shimmering translucent as

Tiny perfect fingers rooting in Time,

Swaddled in constellations

Webbing Then and Now.

Time is connected on all planes.

Today’s prayers heal the past

As it has never ended.

All grief is omnipresent and infinite

If we remain in slumber.

 

Hope is wholeness.

The future is “I AM”.

Tears heal tears in the fabric of Time,

Filling in the rifts and canyons of geologic upheaval

With Love transmuted into cosmic truth.

We are One.

Our tears are Gaia’s rain.

The clogged well of each heart

Is her burden to bear.

Our actions become her prayers or her curses.

She cries in fire, wind and geologic torment when

We fail to love her power,

Which supports us in the lattice of her cosmic apron

To which we cling as babes born innocent

And slow to awaken to her grief,

Which is ours to bear.

 

Copyright© 2017/12/10 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: Pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

Audio · Digital Art · Ekphrastic Poetry · Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry · Reiki · Tai Chi · Uncategorized

Pain, The Poet

Pain, the Poet

Those who forgive,

Can they be poets,

For where is the poetry but

In released pain?

Pain, the fire breathing mist

Rising to rain.

Pain, the reddening blood

filling the veins,

The river of the soul.

Pain, the rooting to the sacral tree,

Birthing stories and songs,

Creating new souls out of barren wombs.

Pain, the cries from scattered tribes

Reaching for limbs and branches,

Anything to hold onto until dawn’s light.

Pain, the songs of ancestral curses

Clinging to the cells like webs

To be cleared in spring.

Pain, the dead rooting of loss

Blocking the secret chamber of the heart,

Where peace resides.

Pain, the tenant evading eviction,

Holding truth hostage

From inner sight

And auric brilliance.

Pain, the dirges and the hymns,

The shadows, dislodged and

Transmuted but not forgotten

In the poetry of forgiveness

And the forgiveness of poetry.

 

©2017/11/07 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: Digital art “Out of Darkness, Light” ©Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog

 

 

 

Audio · Healing · Poem · Poetry

Gaia

Gaia

We are holding in the cries of fear,

Refusing to surrender to truth.

What can come of filling the streams

Of Gaia’s veins with our tears but a flood of pain?

Can the rifts in her ancient skin be healed?

Can canyon walls ever merge into a New Earth

Free of grief and loss?

 

The fingers of the Sun can only reach so far

Into the depths for galactic truth.

Has God succumbed to the Fire?

It cannot be so.

Though dense on the edges of Holy Planes,

Light is there.

Light and Shadow share one spectrum,

Always in battle for healing,

Finding the perfect balance.

 

Where Earth is upheaved grows new bounty.

The pain of ripping soil births potential,

Shimmering translucent as

Tiny perfect fingers rooting in Time,

Swaddled in constellations

Webbing Then and Now.

Time is connected on all planes.

Today’s prayers heal the past

As it has never ended.

All grief is omnipresent and infinite

If we remain in slumber.

 

Hope is wholeness.

The future is “I AM”.

Tears heal tears in the fabric of Time,

Filling in the rifts and canyons of geologic upheaval

With Love transmuted into cosmic truth.

We are One.

Our tears are Gaia’s rain.

The clogged well of each heart

Is her burden to bear.

Our actions become her prayers or her curses.

She cries in fire, wind and geologic torment when

We fail to love her power,

Which supports us in the lattice of her cosmic apron

To which we cling as babes born innocent

And slow to awaken to her grief,

Which is ours to bear.

 

Copyright© 2017/12/10 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: Pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

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 · 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 · Reiki · Tai Chi · Uncategorized

Pain, The Poet

Pain, the Poet

Those who forgive,

Can they be poets,

For where is the poetry but

In released pain?

Pain, the fire breathing mist

Rising to rain.

Pain, the reddening blood

filling the veins,

The river of the soul.

Pain, the rooting to the sacral tree,

Birthing stories and songs,

Creating new souls out of barren wombs.

Pain, the cries from scattered tribes

Reaching for limbs and branches,

Anything to hold onto until dawn’s light.

Pain, the songs of ancestral curses

Clinging to the cells like webs

To be cleared in spring.

Pain, the dead rooting of loss

Blocking the secret chamber of the heart,

Where peace resides.

Pain, the tenant evading eviction,

Holding truth hostage

From inner sight

And auric brilliance.

Pain, the dirges and the hymns,

The shadows, dislodged and

Transmuted but not forgotten

In the poetry of forgiveness

And the forgiveness of poetry.

 

Copyright© 2017/11/07 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.wordpress.com

Image: https://pixabay.com/en/woman-lips-clouds-sky-flash-641528/