Healing · Original Digital Art · Poem · Poetry

Sleep Chose Me

Sleep Chose Me

Sleep chose me

To take this walk on crisp leaves

Smothered by frost.

Colors, thread bare faces,

Glassy lattice in sun,

Forming halos for owls

As shade dissolves into moonlight,

Magical stasis.

Linger here in truth,

Alone with feathers of snow

Clinging briefly to crystal,

Blazing its fire,

Sizzling in waves of storm

Like smothered sand bits

On the wild shore

Holding my footing.

The colors dim into food for forest.

I trample the earth into new stone,

Bedrock for soul,

My blossom,

With the will to live

In granite.

©2018 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Image: “Building Blocks” digital art ©2018 Martha Harris See Martha’s Artistic Flarings @artisticflarings.blog




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 · Poem · Poetry

The Simple

The simple

And the ordinary

Hold the truth.

Small caches

Of memories

Forming the matter

Of our lives.

Like fireflies

Born to blaze yet dim

In a spark.

Lit fiercely,

These tiny fires of

Simple knowing

Trace our days

Into glorious years

That lapse into


How we sleep


Not seeing the treasure

Of the mundane.

Copyright 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image:  my garden


Audio · Poem · Poetry

To Write a Poem

To write a poem

You must pretend to sleep,

Sitting up

With a pen,

For if you jump up

To catch the Muse,

All is washed away

Like a dream upon awakening.

There are no better lines

Than those in dreams.

Sleep opens to visions and

Images to truths untold as dreams slip

Into the darkness of the rising sun.

Trance is a collage of words

Dissipating in a fog if jostled,

Fluttering like butterflies

Caught in a net ready to escape.

Mindless chatter forming maxims

Quenched by quiet rumination,

Taking form in rhyme and meter.

In dreams the Muse tells secrets.

Poets can never sleep.


Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Pixabay.com




Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Micropoetry · Poem · Poetry

Mud Maid

Fair lady dressed in

Moss and lichens,

A perch for owls.

Luscious grasses, your hair.

You take the path on Heligan for

A long nap in the sun and

Dreams of timeless nights,

Though it is written,

“Don’t come here to sleep or slumber.”



Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Mud Maid in the lost gardens of Heligan  Sculptor: Susan Hill https://m.thevintagenews.com/2017/06/28/


Audio · Poem · Poetry

Back to a Sleep with Oneness

Rain embracing succulent earth,

Feeding her star seeds

Planted by moonlight fingers

Extending to meadows and hatchlings

Crying for their banquet.

Gardens bursting with harvest

Springing from tender sprouts

And forest saplings.

Clouds lifting mists

Delivered to the sun

Back to a sleep with oneness

Until a new day.



Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/500251471082079922/