Patricia V. Leonard

Streamwood, Illinois

Pat's poetry was first published at age ten. Overcoming many physical challenges in childhood, she was blessed with God's Creative compensation. Learning that Creativity is a force unto itself, Painting and Writing led to teaching Art History classes and writing workshops for children and seniors. Some of her poetry and short stories were published. This led to a column in a Suburban Newspaper for three years. It was called The Art of Survival. All of her creative ventures were always in tune with her family needs. Pat's life has been an ongoing adventure and her children are her biggest fans. Lauren, Carole and Michael are remarkable and their children Kate, Drake, Johnny and Selina are a wondrous challenge. Pat took early retirement from Interior Design to do a little traveling and to be a hands on grandmother. She is currently editing a large collection of her poetry that spans her life in meter and rhyme, tentatively called The Art of Survival.

A Matter Of Time

Life is but a matter of time and waiting,
We but the sands in the hourglass called Humanity,
Sifted and shifted, tossed and turned, ever waiting,
Thinking we rule our fates, such foolish vanity,
When in truth we are but leaves in the wind of life,
Ever pushed and blown, scattered and thrown about,
In search of peace and troubled by the pace and strife,
Alone and insecure we walk, hand in hand with doubt,
Life is a matter of waiting, and I know,
We wait to be born, to see, to touch, to love,
And when we see, and touch, and love, we know,
That we are but sand, tossed and blown by God above,
Who smiles compassionately on all the He created, you my love and I,
Who keep His faith, and dream of a beauty born of love,
And wait with patience till fulfillments time is nigh,
Then we shall see, and touch, and speak, the meaning of our love.

Day's End

We pause to gaze at sunset's glow
The sky in brilliant hues can show,
The Earth basking in the glory of the sight,
Hills and valleys shimmering in the crimson light,
Then suddenly as if by the shifting of sand,
The colors deepen and shadows softly creep over land,
And shadows soon engulf the sky,
As one by one the stars on high,
Make little gemlike glitters ever bright,
Bringing quiet stillness, then calm cool night,
The Sun retires, the night winds sigh,
The Moon shall keep her silent vigil in the sky.

Real Treasures

The Real Treasures of Life are not silver or gold.
And are passed along freely, never bartered or sold.
They are middle years seeking wisdom and truth.
The passing of time only adds to their worth.
With value increasing with time spent on earth.
They're Father's pride and a Mother's warm embrace.
Seeing innocence, wonder and trust on their child's face.
They are a friend's concern and true kindness meant.
They're good wishes and feelings specially sent.
And faith restored by deep loving acts.
A belief in miracles, discounting all facts.
So give Real Treasures, lasting and true.
And accept them with Joy when they're given to you.

You may write Patricia in care of:
The International Poetry Hall of Fame
1 Poetry Plaza
Owings Mills, MD 21117