
Purple party hats prickle
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Purple party hats prickle
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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
Esther reminds us that poetry shared never dies. A perfect thought for World Poetry Day. I hope you’re enjoying my poetry party.

Picture by Elisabeth Blanchet
The evening by the
Lake and you are here again
With me, by my side.
You took my hand, told me verses,
These moments will never die.
Poets love words, but we love labels lots less. This video says why better than I could. Thanks to N.E. White for preferring love, like I do. To me, this sounded like performance poetry, so I offer the video as spoken poetry. If you’ve never been to a poetry slam, give it a try one day. It’s crazyfabulousbrave.