Ledge

Ledge. Lex Leonard. Acrylic on Watercolor paper.19’X24″

Sleep the ledge where line meets touch
don’t roll 
one side or other 
lest balance lost

Doctor, hold hands 
fill with marigold petals 
color of forest fire sunset

Caramel sky, saucers fly
do you belong
if, so, welcome

Smooth skin spirals
stem of possibility 
little mouse where are you

Walking the door
opening roar 
blackholes
silence sitting 

Corpse seed cleared 
E=empty bowl
gurgling pool 

Syndrome of afterlife
nothing certain
no need

You ride voices

Do the math

Look beyond

Beautiful hands

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Author’s Note.

Another visit to the Denver Botanic Gardens for our writing group to write.

During our community time before putting down our thoughts, I gathered words from our conversation. These became our prompts and opening line:

Sleep. Doctor. Caramel. Smooth. Walking Corpse Syndrome.

You do look beautiful.

Skiff

Skiff. Lex Leonard. Denver Botanic Gardens. 07.18.2021

A pink umbrella floats across water upside down right side up reflection a masked woman her partner saunter lotus floats edges ripple into shapes unknown just reflections Emma’s shoes drop bag opens an escape of used tissue tumbles with breeze no longer confined finally free Emma lowers bottom placed on cemented edge toes submerge into cold no excuse from early morning rain door opens through threshold a pink umbrella upside down floats a skiff holding promises forgotten floats away Emma wiggles her toes through the door a threshold a marigold sea of petals remembers golden sun and sweet scent of bloom a pink umbrella carries away excuses pain rememberings upside down filling too full Emma watches sinks below waterline under lotus pad into murky substance a place to break down become that which feeds new growth from murky substance repaired Emma’s toes curl stretch sprout vines reaches into murk feeds from what she once knew now reconstructs releases lets go gives in grows new bud precious bloom turns to sun’s face warmth color bright graceful 

Emma transformed

May First

I always do too much
Expect too much of myself
Try too hard
It always leads to not doing enough
Ever
Goals never reached
Tasks left undone


Incomplete
Everything, including me


Today you greeted me
With your purple velvet

A bit of water here and there
Is all I have given
times of bone dry winter
When I didn’t come to see you 


You didn’t complain
No special fertilizer, pruning


Here you are
Glorious in being you
Sharing who you are
Not too much

And more than enough


I will think of you today
In simplicity
Kindness to myself

And I will smile

Today In the US…

Today In The US…

They turned in their guns…finally listened….a sigh of relief….a deep breath….we could all breathe…they were broken and needed mending, not the guns, the users…they released their hunger for power, their bully moves, their anger…they saw their connection to us, to all…they finally listened, saw how we are all one…no longer a need to tell us what to do…they took a chance to trust…this is the way we heal…restore justice, without guns….restore trust, without guns….restore dignity without guns…restore compassion, without guns…no guns needed for this work…just taking a chance..fixing the broken mind that feeds on power and greed and fear…demilitarize it…allow it to rest, too…they turned in their guns today in the US…the world took a deep breath and trusted love.

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Author’s Note:

Day 13 of Na/GloPoWritMo and we were asked to write a news article, a daily prompt from the Instagram account of Sundress Publications, which posts a writing prompt every day, all year long.

Alpha Centauri

Hope. Acrylic on watercolor paper. Lex Leonard.

Holding the jar up to sun’s light,
a thick golden syrup, 
product of thousands 
of tiny winged creatures,
in there
suspended,
some other kind of beast.

From a distance,
it looked as one.

As the people of Thessaly,
having tamed them, noted,
man and horse melded into
centaur’s celebration.

Embalmed in honey.

At closer observation,
a bit of fluff decoded.

An oddment of dandelion
caught unknowingly
by the beekeeper’s centrifuge, 
completing its interstellar journey,
a Centaurian life,
leaving most observations
to its descendants.

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Author’s Note.

Oh, what a fun prompt today from Na/GloPoWriMo. We were introduced to two specialty dictionaries: Lempriere’s Classical Dictionary and the Historical Dictionary of Science Fiction. We were asked to to write a poem using at least one word/concept/idea from each of the two specialty dictionaries.

My words were centaur from Lempriere and Centaurian from the science fiction dictionary.

Dear You

Dear You,
You’ve gone ahead and taken over
as you should,
wrapping your arms around my rubbish.
Verdant flourish over my decay.
Filling air with sweetness 
for which only you have the prescription.
Teach me one more time to play.

Your Foundling

Dear One,
We are a braided ribbon.
One, yet separate,
of hues unique.
Not in isolation, but communion.
I am always there for you, 
will you be for me?

Your Loving Mother

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Author’s Note:

Na/GloPoWriMo Day 11. Write a letter to and from.

Dear You. Watercolor, pencil, computer. Lex Leonard

Junk Drawer

I rattle the box.

An Altoids tin.
A jangle collection of screw heads
I didn’t know was there.

Birthday candles.

So many shapes and colors
to light celebrations
I no longer have.
And when I do,
I forget,
and buy more.

Much like the years that pass each May.
Collections I forget were there.

But I can’t buy more years
when I can’t find the memories,

lost possibilities.

I can’t keep them in an Altoids tin.

And even if I did,
would I remember?

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Author’s Note.

Day 10 of Na/GloPoWriMo and an interesting exercise.

Pandemia

Re-arrange dust mites
resting on the self

Find the shoe that
has not been worn
for, oh, so long ago
it may be needed someday

Listen to the chimes
choral with the wind

Sit in sun at 10:23
on the steps
the ones leading upstairs
not down

Touch your heart
deep inside
count the beats
you are still here

Peel two clementines
stack the skins
breathe deeply their balm

Sweep his fur
from corners and crevices
he’ll return soon
to claim his space once more

Run your fingers
along the hem
of the silk peach slip
your grandmother gave

Close your eyes
feel your ancestors
at your left and right
above and below
in front and behind

You are never alone

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Author’s Note.

Today from our friends at Na/GloPoWriMo we are asked to write a list poem about an unusual character.

I don’t think Pandemia is too unusual and I have never taken to list poems. And yet, here we are. I like this one.

Anna Flight

Ice. Acrylic. Lex Leonard.

You didn’t hear me leave.
My footfall precious on wood slatted floor
under early morning light, my escape.
Your slumbering breath keeping beat.
Across lawn, down walks,
over the berm into the field
where dew forms without knowing you.
Mother bird begins her day.
I lost my way.
I couldn’t help it, never to see your face again.
I got lost and then,
snow.
Everything blanketed.
It was easy to lay down.
I wanted to say goodbye, but
I was lost.
Sleep well, my sweet.
There is nothing I need to remember any longer,
just your breath,
my ghosted shroud in early morning light.

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Author’s Note.

Day 8, just in the nick of time before the clock turns, of Na/GloPoWriMo.

Our inspiration today was to write a monologue influenced by Edgar Lee Master’s Spoon River Anthology.

Oh, one of my most favorite theatre pieces ever – to watch, read, and perform.