Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 24, 2016

Posted under

Humor, Photography, Poetry

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34 Comments

Juniper Jewels

Blue Juniper berries

Jewel-bright juniper berries
dangled like azure fairies
amidst needles unfurled,
seeking the eyes of every bird.
Berries stayed sugar sweet
until fermenting was complete.
Early spring, greedy bluejays
fell down tipsy over two days,
leaving feathers ruffled aft.
How the crows laughed.

Note: Some birds actually eat too many fermented berries and behave badly. Once I discovered that, I just had to write a poem about it. I also ran across a hilarious video of African animals overindulging on Marula fruit. A more serious poem about juniper berries is here. Have a great week!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 19, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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25 Comments

Tree Song

Two Tree limbs reaching into the sky like arms

Even in winter,
with nary a leaf,
trees hold up the sky,
cut the wind and
frame the stars.
Tall maples sing our future,
lament our past.
First, morning pianissimo
swells to workday allegro
but quickens to andantino
after a tangerine sunset.
A mad tarantella makes
Saturdays ache with dance.
Stormy days, we hear brass
crescendo of crashing branches.
Trees measure our lives.
Each season has its movement,
winter’s pianissimo alternating
with icy crescendo:
concertos made from time,
measured into beauty,
the melody our breath,
the bass our heartbeat.
Woodwind chords are
refined by strings.
In the tree song,
we find time
and healing.

Note: I hope you are hearing music. Have a great week!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 16, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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45 Comments

Dryad’s Eye

Thick oak in winter, trees brown and curled, with power lines running alongside, and the twisted trunk makes an eye

Sky gray as grave wrappings,
day dawns with the sullens.
Sodden leaf mold mingles
with the scent of coming snow.
Silent crows are drenched and dismal,
staring into the storm’s eye.
Oak leaves, brown and wilted,
make a damp chatter, as if they gossip.
Even the dryad shivers,
lissome and fair but cold in there.
She turns a shoulder to the icy wind
and hoodwinks the honest earth
into seeing a magic eye appear
gathering the light, shedding no tear.
The luminous gaze falls on the smallest
child, hopeful of seeing the first
snowflake spiral like a fallen star.
No frown can stay down in
the presence of wonder and hope.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: A dryad is a nymph or goddess of a tree, often an oak. I make reference to a Sylvia Plath poem, On the Difficulty of Conjuring Up a Dryad, in which conjuring, Plath fails. Her “tree stays tree” no matter how she wrenches “obstinate bark and trunk/ To [her] sweet will”. Is she disappointed or triumphant when “no luminous shape/ Steps out radiant in limb, eye, lip,/ To hoodwink the honest earth which pointblank/ Spurns such fiction/ As nymphs”? She then observes that her cold vision “will have no counterfeit/ Palmed off on it.” My imagination is of a different sort than hers today. Where my eye scans, I see magic. May you have a magical day.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 13, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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44 Comments

Connection

Connection,
reconnection,
lines entwined, aligned.
Squirrels use superhighways, and
information zips sideways.
Talk is the tendency when
winter’s in ascendancy.
Messages zing with arctic air.
Yet, summer’s there
in buds drowsing,
a promise of carousing
when summer’s scent
will rise from each branch, bent
from the memory of
winter’s icy love.
Seasons circle and dance,
hypnotic with romance.

Note: Are you finding the magic in the season? It’s harder in the winter doldrums, but keep your spirits up, the days are getting longer already! Cast your eyes on a Scottish stone circle formed from the earth’s oldest rock, and you’ll see winter romance, indeed, thanks to Seonaid at breathofgreenair.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 8, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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59 Comments

Gray Magic

Stone Wall with phlox overhanging

Tinge of gray
on evergreen,
sparkly spray,
icy and clean,
fairy frost,
silver dance.
Summer’s lost
in hoary trance.
Winter sleep
casts its spell.
Blankets deep,
warm us well.

Notes:

Cold has tinged New England with silver. It’s the time of year to burrow under blankets or duvet. I hope you’re warm and cozy. My favorite thing to do this time of year is sleep late. What’s yours?

Happy Poetry Friday to all kid litters! Thanks to Tabatha Yeatts for hosting this week at the Opposite of Indifference. Thanks for reminding us that the “opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference.” ~ Elie Wiesel

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 5, 2016

Posted under

Photography

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27 Comments

Circles

Ball pits, portholes and memories. These are from 2005 when the Tall Ships visited Boston. I joined in this week when I noticed a cool photo by a new friend, a series of great photos by an old friend, and visited the prompt.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 5, 2016

Posted under

Flash Fiction, Humor, Photography

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17 Comments

Penguin Patter

January Jones met Mavis Jingle, and they nibbled salt herring. “My dear,” Mavis chirped, and January nodded. “Did you see Babseal out-swim Ozbrrr Orca?”

“I never did,” January exclaimed. “Tell all!”

“He did ten loop-de-loops, twenty corkscrews, forty hairpin turns then dropped like chum into an ice cave. Ozbrrr was so exhausted, he headed north with a terrible case of tail droop.”

“I would have loved to see that!” January sighed. “I saw Babseal out-swim a polar bear, an ice storm and an Antarctic ice crusher.”

“No you did not!”

“Indeed, I did, Ms. Mavis Know-it-all! Now I won’t tell you about it.”

“Oh, please, do tell. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

January nodded, looking most pleased. “Well, I would tell you, but I did make it up.” Then he dove into the water and swam away.

Note: Let tall tales commence in the new year. If you have some flash fiction you’d like to link up to me, please feel free. You can even copy my picture (just credit me) and try your own hand at writing some Penguin Patter. We can call it the Penguin Patter Prompt, maximum word count of 150. Anyone game? 🙂 Cheers, Brenda

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 29, 2015

Posted under

Holiday, Photography, Poetry

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37 Comments

Dragon Song

Be careful in the New Year
for if you listen to dragon song,
you might find yourself burning.
You might need to fly and dance
or hear magic in the stars.
You might believe in kindness
and find friends in new places.
The crescendo casts a spell that
will make fortunes rise and set
love spinning like dust devils.
Be careful to keep your feet
solidly on the ground,
or you might hear fairy bells,
float over meadows, shake
hands with poppies, only to be
tickled by delphinium.
Dragons and fairies must be kept
in their place, in the toy chest,
lest the world tilt crazily.
Let others be dizzy with magic
or you might have to rethink
everything in your life.

Note: Happy New Year! 2016 is coming! I snapped the sea dragon photo at the New England Aquarium. If you’d like a dragon fairy tale, I offer the ice castle world of the Dragon and the Phoenix. We are busy frosting gingerbread trains, rolling beeswax candles and making lego Christmas trees. Enchiladas verdes and chilaquiles rojos are bubbling fragrantly in my oven, filling the whole house with the magic of cheese, turkey, tortillas and salsa. Wishing you joy, comfort, hugs and warmth!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 25, 2015

Posted under

Poetry

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39 Comments

Merry

Here’s a lovely holiday Fairy poem. I hope you are enjoying your holidays!! I salute you with a cup of hot chocolate and a frosted sugar cookie!!

Wordifull

her skin is infused with peppermint

hints of sweet vanilla underneath

and in her hair of sparkling tinsel

she wears a fir and cranberry wreath

•

everything she touches glitters

dew drops freeze and crystallize

she creates a wintery wonderland

as she dances, flits and flies

•

when the forest is freshly blanketed

in snow of purest white

it is Merry, the Christmas faerie

adding magic to the night

~Melanie Thomason

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Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 21, 2015

Posted under

Holiday, Photography, Poetry

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61 Comments

Note: I wish you all that’s happy, whatever you do or don’t celebrate. We are all brothers and sisters in the mystery of life, all stardust in the universe, all hungry for love and joy. I’ll be taking some time with my family the next few weeks. A million warm holiday hugs!!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 19, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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18 Comments

Fish Grin

Blue fish grins.
His scales gleam with
labyrinthine markings.
Perhaps lady fish
get lost, tracing their
path through the bends.
His charm bewilders
and intrigues, and we stare
at each other through
the ocean tank glass.
Close, but not connecting.
Near, but breathing
different elements.
Each puzzled by the other.
His liquid gaze and citrine eye
as mysterious and fleeting
as a golden leaf on a tree.
What does the leaf remember,
hanging there for one last day?
What does the fish see?
A swish of his tail and
he’s gone. A cypher,
a code of the universe,
a mystery to contemplate.

Note: I’m surrounded by swirls of wrapping paper, twinkling lights and the smell of brownies. I’m planning to make brownie Christmas tree cookies. If they turn out well, I’ll put up a picture. And my husband just bought girl scout cookies. I hope you’re having a wonderful weekend!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 14, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

Comments

18 Comments

Autumn Flower

Winter pale flower
held in cold-red leaves,
do you you remember summer days
in your shell-pink cloak?
Did you shiver during autumn chills,
that tinged your pink to mauve?
Harsh frosts followed that revealed
your icy pallor to Father Winter.
Do you imagine being free to
spin and drift, a pale tumbleweed,
anticipating your final dance with
the first frozen flakes?
Or do you dream only of
summer’s heat when rain
fell like a cool blessing?
You’re the star of every season,
a galaxy of order and intention,
each petal where it needs to be.
I hope to travel my seasons
with as much joy and fun,
saving my wildest dance
for my last winter.

Dry Hydrangea on Ice

Note: These oak leaf hydrangeas manage to look beautiful, no matter the season. They inspire me to remember summer, no matter how cold the day. I hope you are remembering summer or enjoying its warmth right now, depending on your relationship to the equator. Have a great week, full of magic and memories!