Now

I found myself in that place again
that place I thought I left behind
released
Now.jpg
cracked the container wide open
to watch contents drain
into the gutter flow
into the sewer wash
into the ocean

Here I am again but
I know better now

I am at cause
my feet on Earth
next to tree
I create that which
serves

In wonder I pick up
a twig somehow
knowing this piece of skeleton
broken
dry
dismembered from its whole
is still at cause

Energy is neither created nor destroyed
It just changes form

Into compost,
Little Twig,
transform into
nourishment for
Little Seed
roots and stem
buds and leaves
from what seems
nothing

I am at cause
I create

Wind, A Prayer for Peace

OurLadyofMountainandPlain

Our Lady of Mountain and Plain, ©Lexanne Leonard

02.07.19
Wind.I,
A Prayer for Peace

You purl life into life
Breath in, Breath out
Peaceful immigration,
Halcyon egress

North, South
East and West,
Origin of Compass,
Lead me to rest

 

02.08.19
Wind.II,
Wayramama

Where air is rare
Your breath unfurls,
Into nature I step
A balance,
Right Relationship
To give and
Remember
To receive

North, South
East and West,
Origin of Compass,
Lead me to rest


02.09.19
Wind.III,
Feng Po Po

Primordial storm
On tiger back
A sack to whisk
Away heave of wind,
Harmony

North, South
East and West,
Origin of Compass,
Lead me to rest

02.10.19
Wind.IV,
Dogoda

In fields of
Barley, millet and oats
Carins stay strong
Against tempest.
I hear your
Ancient Voice
Compassion,
I forgive

North, South
East and West,
Origin of Compass,
Lead me to rest

 

02.11.19
Wind.V,
Njoror

In celebration
In gratitude,
Your zephyr
Thrives,
I grow and prosper
Breaths deep and
Abundant,
I am, I am, I am

North, South
East and West,
Origin of Compass,
Lead me to rest

 

02.12.19
Wind.VI,
End

Purl, unfurl
Whisk and heave
Abundant Wind,
Giver of Life,
My face turned
To You

North, South
East and West,
Origin of Compass,
I am blessed

Author’s Note:

I was recently introduce to the Goddesses of the Wind by Renee Baribeau and her lovely and powerful book, Winds of Spirit, Ancient Wisdom Tools for Navigating Relationships, Health, and the Divine. As one who has always found comfort in wind, this was a brilliant way to reconnect.

The above poem prayers are a result and fit perfectly into this month’s World Peace Poet’s annual invitation to write a poem every day and send a wish for peace across the globe.

PPP – Peace Poetry Postcard Month

Postcardosostcardd

February is one of my favorite months.

Valentines Day. Imbolc. And the World Peace Poets who usher in their Peace Poetry Postcard Month.

We sign up to receive 28 names and addresses of other poets from across the world who will write one poem a day in February on a postcard and pop it into the mail to a different poet each day. And, of course, the theme of peace flies through the universe courtesy of the mail systems. Ahhhhhhh, a beautiful way to spread peace and art and magical words and intentional creativity.

I am late in posting. It is already Day 6. Today I shall catch up. Then post one a day from here on out. I promise.

02.01.19
Being
I
Become
Bring forth
Be at cause
Realign my extent
Turn around

Revolutionary Evolutionary Being

My gambol in

Peace

 

02.02.19
Convolvulus

/kənˈvɒlvjuːləs/
genus Convolvulaceae

Bind weeds to strangle

Morning Glories, family, too
Bright eyes in morning sun
Blue as Mar Pacifico
“the peaceful sea”

Two sides of family

Revolutionary combatant
Evolutionary halcyon
Beings conceived in parallel

 

02.03.19
Good Ancestor

I reach back to you,
Good Ancestor,
embrace your peace,
your walk with me.

I reach ahead to you,
Good Ancestor,
divine your peace,
your walk with me.

I walk my day,
an open vessel
to shine out your peace,
Good Ancestor To Be.

 

02.04.19
Milky Way
It all came back to
why she dyed her hair.

She wasn’t at peace with
who she was.

The Milky Way
gently nudged her
home.


02.05.19
genius loci

The spirit of place that is.

Architects, the good ones,
the ones who know
beings
and nature
and things created
must reside in peace,
and weave the genius loci
into its right
a
nd honorable space.

(Dedicated to Daniel Libeskind, architect of the Denver Art Museum, after hearing his interview on Colorado CPR)

 

02.06.19
Roofers
In February’s stolid chill
roofers crack open early morning peace.

Rhythmic nails shutter out
weather’s purpose.

June’s hail storm
Re-collected.

Crow Snow

crowsnow

Constellation Corvus
appears now in our night sky,

a hemisphere of northern points,
not southern,

on tail of serpent bearer, healer.
This morning you greeted us,

twenty or more of you
in field spread across tufts of winter grass on

snow melted into iced crusted mounds,
there must be food there.

This mid-winter’s day welcoming grace of flakes of snow
you’ve never greeted us with such abandon,

our feet close enough for dog nose to wish
an even nearer sniff.

Today in union with your clan
you walk earth with us,

call a welcome under clouded sky.
Maybe tonight as moon grows full

your points of light will draw us there, too,
together – Corvus, dog, and me.

Seducing the Muse

I do not share events very often, but this is one I would love for you to check out.

criticmuse_intro_skyscraper

Make your inner critic your ally and let your Muse out to play
Find out how to rewire your brain patterns and quickly lower stress levels
Journey into the portal of your imagination with a world-class artist
Discover how to enter the “flow state” and free your creative, playful self

I know Shiloh Sophia through my own experience with Intentional Creativity and healing/transformation this past year. And I would like to introduce you to her joy with her complimentary event at the Shift Network.

Visit my “Events” page if you are interested in more information.

Below are just a few muses I painted this year while I was immersed in the process of Intentional Creativity.

Sisters Sun and Moon

MerryYule_2018©

 

Once a time of dark to rest, renew
now comes Light to welcome, warm

A balance of equality
moves towards brightness, growth and bloom

To days that linger
kissing stars, finally precious sleep

The days grow shorter
a pause in gratitude

With balance once again
both swing round and round and
back to deep, dark still

It is Yule, the wheel that spins
we flex and flow,
dance arm in arm with
Sisters Sun and Moon

 

I wish for you
a Merry Yule,
a Grace-filled Solstice,
and a luminous Full Moon,
May you be blessed this day and every,
Lexanne

 

The Woods

The Woods

The Woods, image by Lex

She had perfect feet. Not too big. Not too small that she would totter. Her toes were long, long enough to grasp her pencil when it rolled off the table to escape as she set it down to take a sip of coffee. The kitchen table tilted ever so slightly missing one pad underneath one leg. That made just enough difference for her toes to be engaged in the process of writing her daily laundry list.

The first thing on her list called for a bus ride. This was easier said than done.

She lived past the far edge of town. Not all the way to the woods, but almost. She always wanted to live in the woods. She asked her mom if they could and her mom always answered no. It wasn’t an angry no. Just a simple no to end the discussion.

But what if mom said YES?

Many a night she would lay out near the edge of the woods looking up at the sky drawing pictures in her mind of what it would be like living the woods. Gossamer clouds erased each adventure to create a blank slate for new ones to be imagined.

But that was long ago and wasn’t for right now.

She was older now, much older, and she was so far from anywhere that she would have to take a bus to catch the bus to get to her appointment.

Now she carried a responsibility bigger than she was. She knew she had to be on time, if not early. She had to be ready.

She counted her coins to be certain there were enough for a round trip just in case there was no one to bring her home. She was wrapped in her warm scarf and coat, held an umbrella in case it did rain as was promised, packed an apple to eat on the second bus, and slipped her perfect feet into her perfect comfortable shoes.

The box was prepared earlier in the day. She didn’t want to forget anything. And even though the box held all she needed for the meeting, it seemed weightless. When something is important – no vital – it could almost float by itself. Which she was sure it did at times, but she never told anyone of this.

“Alright, then!”

She said to no one in particular, but to anyone who happened to be listening.

“I think I’m ready.”

She listened for an objection. None was had. All was magnanimous. She was ready and that was that.

She arrived at the exact second the first bus did and was promptly whisked away.

Maybe it was the wind coming through the crack of open window where she sat in the last seat of the bus, but she thought she heard a great sigh of someone or something bidding her a farewell.

She smiled.

She, too, loved her house near the woods and felt a bit of a loss each time she left to town. But she was needed this eve along with the all the other wise ones. It was her time to be there.

And she could hear her mother’s words that were the words she heard from her mother who heard them from her mother and so on and so on and so on…

What the elders see sitting, others can’t see while standing on their toes.

Author’s Note:

Our lovely Afternoon Writers met this past Tuesday. We missed a few dear friends this month. Much love and many hugs to them.

We now each bring a sentence and a word as our prompts. We choose how we use them, or even not use them at all. We write for a half an hour. Then we share. What a wonderful time of community we have here listening to each others voices come through words that enchant and humor us and bring a tear.

I am gathering small shots of place and character and events to work into a larger piece of work. I love this process. Someday…
.
.
,

Here are our prompts for the afternoon. Joins us! We would love to read what you wrote.

What the elders see sitting, others can’t see while standing on their toes.

The town of Gros Ventre was so far from anywhere that you had to take a bus to catch the bus. I carried a responsibility bigger than I was. From Last Bus to Wisdom by Ivan Doig

They arrive over the wise distances on perfect feet. From If Women Rose Rooted by Sharon Blackie

What if mom said, “Yes?”

Gossamer
Escape
Magnanimous
Weightless