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.

Berm

Image by Lex Leonard

Boots.

Prints
in snow
edging berm.

Stepping off, or a
return to what was, will not be?

I search for answers
in spring, not
fall, but
flight.

Free.

Author’s Note:

Oh, I like this form.

Today is Day Seven of National Poetry Month and Na/GloPoWriMo. The challenge was to choose between two forms –  the shadorma, and the Fib.

I chose the Fib because of my exploration last year with the Fibonacci spiral exploration with Intentional Creativity and painting.

There are multiple ways to approach with expansion using syllables. I chose the medium challenge – 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, and back again, 5, 3, 2, 1, 1. What fun!

Window Closed

Night Window. 24″X18″ Lex Leonard.

She flew into the window closed
my attention drawn
to the thud then flutter
dove escaping squirrel

A change of course but
no loss in flight
protectress of her nest
neither pleasure nor pain 
to be acknowledge

Simply survival

In spring there is a frenzy
to brith, bring new life
protect

There is no time for pleasure or pain

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Author’s Note.

Day Six of Na/GloPoWri Mo.

Today’s Challenge – “Go to a book you love. Find a short line that strikes you. Make that line the title of your poem. Write a poem inspired by the line. Then, after you’ve finished, change the title completely.Holly Lyn Walrath.

Most Of The Time

Most of the time….

It is too effortless to accept,
When sun shines upon me,
Accolades, and assume they are richly deserved. 
The sole proprietor, only myself.
Oh, so important.
Oh, so honored, the only one crowned but
(I live in darkness most, of the time.)

How I walk tells my story,
Shows true self, not in words, but in action.
Should I devour praise
In one big gulp,
So none is left behind? Hoarding so others 
Cannot warm their hands, see their path?
(But I live where I only see darkness, most of the time.)

Longing for sun I must remember 
Her light is for all.
She shines upon us as one.
My burdens not greater,
Honors no more important than another.
Oh, the freedom of releasing ego, letting go,
(So I can live freely in darkness and under sun.)

Leaving behind selfdom,
Insisting on stillness to allow the
Withering of greed and fear and anger,
I can finally
Be
There freely and
(I don’t need to live in darkness, most of the time.)

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Author’s Note:

Day Five of Na/GloPoWriMo gave us s form. “This prompt challenges you to find a poem, and then write a new poem that has the shape of the original, and in which every line starts with the first letter of the corresponding line in the original poem.” There were more ways to fit the shape, but I didn’t use those.

I also used one of the suggested poems: I Knew a Woman by Theodore Roethke.

Painting by Lex Leonard. Sitting With Moon. Acrylic on watercolor paper. 18″X24″

One Hundred Twenty

In those years
when we are lulled
by the hint
of what will be

     no longer of
     what can be

we must be reminded
to be those things
of everyday life

tamping the queasiness

no longer to ferment
those whispers 
farming them into
something where

anger is unavoidable

Remove the mask
allow the god-seed
to take root

requited

in your 120th year

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Author’s Note:

Today is Day Four of Na/GloPoWriMo. I missed writing my poem yesterday, but I did do my cards. So today I combined my writing with Day Three.

My words: queasy, lull, ferment, requited

Today’s prompt: I used a photo of mine instead of the suggested  @SpaceLiminalBot.

These are my cards being held in a sweet little origami box my hubby made for me.

Journey

Journey. Acrylic on watercolor paper. 24″ X 18″. Lex Leonard.

There are doorways

not made of wood
or stone

or branches of trees
crossing their arms
twining together

But liminal space

A place unknown
where steps decide trajectory

define what is to be

Space where nothing resides
else it be blocked
unusable
un-purposed

Yet a place
where eternity
kisses your cheek

takes your hand
and whispers

“Welcome.”

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Authors Note:

Day Two of Na/GloPoWritMo.

Today’s inspiration: The Road Less Taken by Robert Frost.

Order Deranged

It is not order that must be kept

Not a knee on a neck, or hands cuffed,
Yes, Ma’am, No, Sir
Line straight, sit down!

Let us take the auger and bore a hole deep into that insanity,
Release possession demonic of that order
A coma therapy crying out to be awakened

Let us derange that kind of order
Lest we make the entire world mad

Let us welcome the March Hare in April
And Alice’s spring in fall
Make room for the lunatic

Yes luna-tic

Let us derange the square dance, the reel, the waltz
And foot it under the moon
Lunatics 
Moonstruck with one another

Lets us derange cracked sidewalks
Hot asphalt, turf and lawns on arid land
Land meant for sage
Land for sweetgrass
Our bare feet growing roots
So deep, we talk to trees

Let us derange the practical
Tear to pieces the canvas
To become the preposterous

As I look into your eyes
And see you, me

After the raving madness of that order deranged

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Author’s Note.

Order Deranged. Acrylic/canvas/pencil/ink on watercolor paper by Lex Leonard.

Color of Creation

Color of Creation. Acrylic on canvas. 24″X 36″ Lex Leonard Artist.

Black of moonless night
We meet ourselves
Our grace, our wisdom

Red of blood
Poured upon the land
Giving life, feeding Earth

Yellow of morning sun
Rising new
Warmth and clarity

White of blinding light
Eyes adjust to acknowledge
Accept, transform

Green of Mother Earth
Tree of life
Sustaining all

We are colors of Creation
Weaving a web of intersection, 
connection

We are Sacred

We are One

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Author’s Note:

This painting and poem was inspired by my work with From Allies to Abolitionists and Emancipation Theater in Denver, CO.

When I Die

Attribution unknown. Please contact me if you know the photographer so I may give proper credit. Thank you.

I don’t want chemicals
Flowing through my veins
I don’t want to be kept
I want to be consumed 

I want mushrooms
To grow from my palms
Open in reverence to sky

I want my skin 
To compost
Into Earth to feed roots
To grow new life

I want my bones
To dry and crumble
And ride with wind
To places 
I’ve never been

When I die
I want to go back
To where I started
Be who I was
Rest and
Begin again

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Author’s Note.

I was so taken by this image. I do not know the artist who took this photo. If you do, please message me and I’ll give them appropriate attribution. Image and quote found on Facebook – “The corpse of a boreal raccoon, with mushrooms growing from the palm of its paw, like a bouquet of flowers from beyond.”