softer
snowfall
in April
a winged angelic and feathery stillness
heralds divine music from above
the icy confection
reminds of protection
brings a sense of peace
contemplating movement
making art turn into magic while
overhead fly Canada geese
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Purple party hats prickle
Continue reading
Snow showers
bury
spring flowers
deep Continue reading
Anyone who falters to a stop,
mid breath, and
lets her words breathe,
then echo,
then die,
is a poet.
Fresco at University of St. Thomas in Minneapolis Used by Permission of Laura Purdie Salas
The fairy tale, the prosaic,
the absurd and the divine,
find their way into myth,
story, art and rhyme.
Mudiferous,
squelching ramble
beneath bare branches
and yearning buds
yields a vast harvest
in my wintry soul
of spring faith. Continue reading
My nose misses roses
through long winter days,
but Trader Joe’s knows.
There, summers scents
come in cellophane.
Continue reading
Peace is like sunlight:
I yearn toward it.
I can’t hold it in my hand.
I want it most
Continue reading
I enjoy every
yellow thing
that blooms in
early spring.
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This ditty is in honor of writing and rewriting manuscripts galore. Plus, today, I won an award-winning book thanks to a cat named Maggie. Continue reading
Some people never go crazy.
What truly horrible lives they must lead.
— Henry Charles Bukowski
I have greatly enjoyed my crazy poetry-filled day. Continue reading
Stamp, stomp,
puddle heaven,
fountains everywhere
when you’re seven.
Laugh and howl,
wet socks,
drippy drops everywhere,
forget clocks.
Arrive speckled
with muddy blots,
not welcome everywhere,
stomach in knots.
Will mom see past hems
dripping dark dots?
Rather than dirt everywhere,
she sees cheetah spots!
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Notes: Poets find joy in puddles:
“The world is mud-luscious…
[and] puddle-wonderful”
— e.e. cummings
Since writing a haibun on puddles, I’ve wondered how cumming’s mother viewed him, arriving home. My poem’s been in its chrysalis, but finally that wondering took shape and spread wings.
Another fun poem about puddles is Puddle Splash by Roann Mendriq:
What is it about rain puddles,
that make one want to splash?
That turns us into children,
in a quick and happy flash?
Read the rest here.
Big thanks to Robyn Hood Black, a wonderful poet and author, for hosting this week’s Kidlitospere Poetry Friday extravaganza.
Friendly Fairy Tales 