
Write your story
for words are
perfect petals
that bring color
to the world.
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Write your story
for words are
perfect petals
that bring color
to the world.
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Time,
present and past.
Frozen moments,
remembered and forgotten.
Beauty,
ordinary and extraordinary.
Photographic power
reveals in light and dark
what my mother looked like as
a young girl,
or my father as
he welcomed me to the world,
or myself
as I smiled between
brother and sister
whose faces are only visible
in black and white now.
Lost faces, missed warmth, people
linger in shades, lines, and shapes,
like hieroglyphics of the past.
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham
Notes: For World Photography Day today, I offer this ode, in gratitude for how concrete my memories are, of times past.
I won’t focus on shadows.
I won’t hide my head.
I’ll open to the sun
like the tiny phlox
that blooms,
even on cold days, Continue reading
hope is scented like
green tomatoes on the vine,
bitter and earthy
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
this green world
teems with bees, toads, and slugs,
we’re never alone
even silence seems happy
when a swallowtail visits
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Bitter-scented tomato vines
rub elbows with zucchinis
behind fireworks of kale. Continue reading
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams fade
Life is a silent symphony
That cannot be played.
Copyright 2020 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
The world hums with voices
as the warm days fly by,
people in pain
virus numbers climbing
exhausted frontline workers
and protestors in peril.
Continue reading
All colors
should be free
to be,
to be as covered in glory
or as mired in earth
as needed,
or to stretch between the two,
bowing faces to roots or
lifting shining faces
in sunshine, Continue reading
Every child dreams,
creates art,
writes poetry,
sings songs.
Why do most stop? Continue reading
As the cardinal calls
pretty, pretty, pretty,
apple blossoms
quiver like
cabbage butterflies
in lilac-scented sunshine. Continue reading
I miss shaking a newspaper,
folding it closed, washing
black ink from my fingers,
feeling accomplished before
moving on with my day.
Instead, I hopscotch a crazy-quilt —
CNN. BBC. MSNBC. Fox. Round
and round, site to site and back,
never washing the stain
of sad news from my heart. Continue reading