Tag Archives: poetry

Dancing on the Edge











Pirouette, hands graceful in the air. Eyes downcast to the valley, breeze breathing past my balanced toes; I pause to catch my breath. Bright red cherry  lips, powder soft peachy cheeks; silky hair wrapped in a neat chignon. Perfectly poised in a petticoat dress.

Twirling and dancing so lovely upon the cliff’s edge, fearless and strong. Back and forth in rhythm with life, I dance with ease or dance with struggle, yet always harmonious atop this jagged lip.

A loose lock of silky hair falls from its perfect place, the release of a single tear upon my face triggers unbalanced stumble, twirling down.

Outstretched arms on safety’s plane call for me, yet the enticing call of freedom’s fall is hard to resist. A slow motion drop, summer’s wind blowing by cradling warm against my body, eyes up to the heavens taking in blue skies and sun. No worry for the crash to come. Will you catch me, Father? Landing skin and bones on a petticoat pillow, the fabric and folds of my life safely under me?

Or will You let me crash, and wait for me to grasp your waiting hand–ready to teach me a new dance? Perfectly clothed in a new dress You have coutured just for me; beautiful as the queen You see. Loose curls upon slender shoulders, face up to yours, safely dancing in your arms, fearless and strong.

Dancing on this ledge, finesse grows weary… freedom’s fall is calling.






Lunar Calling

Sleepy child cannot sleep;
Fit and fever keeps slumber at bay.

Tears stream down sweet, pallid cheeks;
he calls for Mommy seeking peace.

Covers to chin, tucked warm and nestled;SleepingSean
Mama’s touch invites gentle comfort.

Tender fingers across his brow, low humming lullaby fills the dark;
Sleep summoned Mama’s way.

Maternal nostalgia of newborn nights seeps through clear memory;
Precious peanut seven years past.

Lunar calling fills Mama’s heart;
A mother’s work is welcome relief.

A shining star upon angst of darkness is Mama’s love upon troubled needs.

Sickness abates and lullaby fades;
Sleep arrives, dreams begin to play…

Battle (Blog hop story)


Mandatory words: bullfight, result, novel, butcher, gossip

Above is the blog hop photo prompt; below is my story that goes with it. (I usually say enjoy!, but this one is kind of heavy and sad.)


Tears dry
Emptiness stares back.
Harsh words butcher
Her spirit in shreds.
Ugliness reflects cold
Like mid-winter death.

Community of peers
Swing cruel swords of intent.
A juvenile bullfight in
Teases and mockery;
Gossip resounds in sneers.

Her heart dies with each piercing stab;
Soaked in lies, grasping for life.

Responding love offers no relief
She falls silent; unworthy and alone.
Heavy result to bear.

Life’s novel usurps childhood tales;
Real hurt lasts forever.
Time heals yet scars stay fragile.
Love’s armor protects;
Weakening the battle.

Fall Birches (my attempt at #poetry)

I went to a writer’s conference yesterday and took a class called “Listening for your Voice.” The subject focused on poetry, and the instructor stressed– Don’t be afraid to write who you are and where you are. You were given a special voice, so use it. (I contend this is an absolute truth applicable for all genres.)

Okay. Let’s see how I sound.

I’m experimenting with what’s called an Ekphrastic poem, using a photograph I was given in class yesterday.  Poetry may or may not be my strong suite, but it’s fun to write different things, and I hope you enjoy it. I enjoyed writing it. 🙂


“Fall Birches”


Grand and tall, colorful and strong, the birch stands solid and steadfast. Against the clear blue sky, fall inspires fresh new colors of season’s change. Gathered together a forest of trees is simply beautiful.

A rare autumn day in great Northwest, sunshine rays warm and bright. No clouds hinder crisp reds and golds, no rain dampens my spirit; it wanders free, delighting in contemplation on my love for the birch.

Pure white; tall, slender, misshapen body; tender skin etched and scarred in black. Spindly arms hold delicate leaves of fall’s rainbow, silver green in springtime. The birch seems an innocent and fragile creation. Graceful and soft.

Yet under my hands, beneath the tissue-paper coating and knotted blemishes, I feel sturdiness; strength within the trunk. The birch’s core unshakable; branches anchored, unbending under pressure; leaves fastened.

I smile. Intimate exploration with my senses reveals stark contrasts  I’ve come to love about God’s curious creations. Fragility and strength; beauty and blemish; inner truth and outer observations. Time, heart, and wonder lead to hidden places holding marvelous discoveries about life.

So it is with human spirit. Gathered together a beautiful sight, strong and radiant against the backdrop of a vibrant world. As seasons change and life lives on, His dynamic contrasts exude from each–  every heart bruised and scarred in noticeable places carrying a core of fortitude.

Time, heart, and wonder lead to marvelous places. A majestic canopy of fall birches inspires awe for God’s nature.

Salty Air and Strawberries (#ThrowbackThursday)

20130725_085911 It’s taken several attempts for me to be brave enough to post something from my “notebook paper files.” The writings and ruminations on these pages are so precious and dear to me, yet the second I think about publicly posting them, I become embarrassed. Today I realized, however, if I were to die tomorrow, my people would likely rummage through these files and read them anyway (which, for the record, is fine by me because whatever prose is found, whenever it’s found, I trust it is meant to be found by the eyes who found it.–good luck with that one! :))

So without further ado *covers eyes and hits publish*; a piece written back in 1999 (I was 19):

Leanne n surf

“Salty Air and Strawberries” (Perfect Day)

Warm beams of sunshine in my eyes, soft roaring of the sea in my ears. The sweet smell of the salty air in my nose, and the gentle touch of his hand on my cheek. All this in the same moment as I awaken. I lie basking in the moment as he brings me breakfast in which he joins.

We head for the beach that seems to call my name with every breath of the soft breeze. As we walk, the scene engulfs my mind with words of wonder and love. We enjoy the company of each other while we play in the salty water, chase one another in the soft sand, and exchange passion through gentle kisses.When the sun rises high above, a tiny picnic is shared. We then fall asleep in the caressing arms of one another.

After a short slumber, my mind and I wander back to the rolling waves of the ocean. In my solitary time, I arrange my thoughts and desires in formations of language and write them down. I take a moment to really see the wondrous gift given to us by the Father.

I return to him for a candlelit meal. The orange and purple sky invites us down to the water, and we walk by light of the sunset. We share in sweet strawberries and soft whipped cream. The day is ended in moonlight, our bodies joined together as one, making love far into the night.

*Today, at 32 years old, I haven’t yet experienced this particular perfect day, but I have had the pleasure of living other perfect days– days of which at 19 years old I couldn’t yet fathom.