Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · My Mother · Poem · Poetry

New Audio: Mother, Great Pine

Mother, Great Pine,

Stretching in her years.

Needles springing from craggy trunk

In need of water.

Branches reaching for cloud mist.

Perches for birds with nests

Gathered in crevices hidden by owls.

Her hair of needles

Cracks in Sun’s heat

And breaks in Sun’s breath.

Her roots dig into springs

Dried to stain on parched sand,

Blown to rock in forgotten forests,

Where memories remain.

Mother, Great Pine,

Life marks its initials

On tattered bark

Dressing her soul.

Her shadow marks a path

For Time to travel

Dawn to dusk

Without fail.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: https://www.google.com/search

pine-tree-e1334339816520

 

 

 

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

Sacred Things

So many sacred things

We have in our lives

On dusty shelves

Or messy desks.

Hidden in plain sight,

Demure whispers from these

Soul collages.

Tiny angels and fairies,

Happy Buddhas sitting on lace,

Quan Yin, chipped from a fall,

Shamans and crystals,

Creating shadows of light

On our pens.

Handmade dolls with stories,

A figure holding the ball

Next to the Tao,

Bracelets of jasper and jade,

Geodes holding mala beads,

Singing bowls and

Stone owls chiming wisdom,

Oma’s thimbles,

Gifts of glass beads and feathers,

Heart-shaped sandstone,

Wooden boxes holding stones from the river,

Collages dressing books.

Treasures sparking intuition,

If only we listen.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

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Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · My Mother · Poem · Poetry

Mother, Great Pine

Mother, Great Pine,

Stretching in her years.

Needles springing from craggy trunk

In need of water.

Branches reaching for cloud mist.

Perches for birds with nests

Gathered in crevices hidden by owls.

Her hair of needles

Cracks in Sun’s heat

And breaks in Sun’s breath.

Her roots dig into springs

Dried to stain on parched sand,

Blown to rock in forgotten forests,

Where memories remain.

Mother, Great Pine,

Life marks its initials

On tattered bark

Dressing her soul.

Her shadow marks a path

For Time to travel

Dawn to dusk

Without fail.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: https://www.google.com/search

pine-tree-e1334339816520