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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B6FC5C77-FF37-4199-B8C7-6625B9BA2A4C

 

 

©Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog

Images: my yard

 

 

Audio · Ekphrastic Poetry · Poem · Poetry

This Cluster Becoming

 

This Cluster Becoming

She is this cluster becoming exquisite blooms,

Spiraling into her sacred mystery.

Alluring are her tears on her delirium,

Cries of bliss and sorrow

Perfectly wed in this cadmium attire.

This grace,

This poise,

This bouquet;

She is an enigma to fathom.

She holds you in rapture as

This bud unfolds its blooms over time;

The babe blossoms a maiden

With arms outstretched to a searing sun.

Her heart fully opens to her desires and fragility, so

These vulnerable petals in perfect design are

Protected by thorny spears

If mishandled by ardor.

Wounds are auger to be foretold.

Be gentle with transience in any betrothal.

The light dims, and

The petals whither,

Spilling into holy pyre.

Copyright© September 15, 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Pixabay

rose-1642970_1280

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 · 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