Patches of snow gleam in drifts,
Branches entwine in red towers,
High rises for fairies on shifts,
Thicket bark lovelier than flowers.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Dancing Memento
My young daughter’s first ballet class,
Awash in swirly pink,
Young girls,
Hair tidied in a looking glass,
Stopping for a quick drink,
spins, twirls.
Fingers together in ballet,
with correct attitude,
Balance.
Raising her arms in grand plié
A graceful interlude,
Warm glance.
My heart was sore to see her there
Leaving me to learn dance,
Wide grin
In place, twinkling eyes full of cheer,
And with a graceful stance,
leap, spin.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Inspired by the Paint the World with Words poetry prompt, which was to write a Memento, a style with 6-line stanzas, composed of patterned counts of 8/6/4/8/6/4 syllables and with a/b/c/a/b/c rhyming.
Berries Blue Etheree
Blue
Berries
Dwindling
As winter ends,
Providing forage
For creatures small and large,
Drawn by beautiful sapphire
Fruit of the evergreen bushes,
Jewels strung there by Mother Nature,
Loving provender for her hungry kin.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This poem is an Etheree, starting with one syllable
on the first line and increasing to 10, one syllable per line.
For another great example, check out Ginz&Tonic.
Cone Jewels Haiku
eastern hemlock cones
seeds disbursed by cold winds
jewels worn in winter
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Be Free Haibun
© AnElephantCant
Golly, did I hear you say you would be free if you could?
— Gussy the Goose, Charlotte’s Web (2006)
Would you be free? What does that mean? Does it mean doing what you like, when you like, without regard to others? Don’t our families, our culture and our governments all impose restraints on us every day?
Definition of Freedom, n,
the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action.
Merriam-Webster
If being free means leaving my home behind, shirking my responsibilities, letting others carry my burdens, then I don’t think I would be free.
home and hearth
heart beats for my family
magic ties that bind
Others talk about freedom in the governmental sense, freedom from tyranny, enslavement, unjust punishments, torture, abuse, theft and many countless other miseries. We all give up certain rights to our governments, and we want some return on that investment. If we give up so many rights and a percentage of our income, then we should get some benefits: safety, security, peace, prosperity and freedom from abuses, these are some basics people want.
freedom from tyranny
safe homes in an unspoiled land
sunshine and clean water
That is a freedom I want for everyone: to have clean water, a safe home, healthy nature nearby, no one afraid to be killed for speaking one’s thoughts. I want a world like that for my children and their children. For you and your children, too. If we all have respect for each other, perhaps we can manage that.
healthy air to breathe
nature’s abundance for all
garden in sunshine
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Inspired by Haibun Thinking Week #9, a film quote and photo from AnElephantCant.
References: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/freedom
Fae Flash Fiction: Equinox
Silka dreamed in yellow. Daffodil dreams of spring, warm breezes blowing citron pollen. Leaves unfurl in lemon sunshine. She restlessly rolled over, drawing her rose petal duvet higher over one curved hip. Her dream changed to tulips, in a rainbow of color.
Silka dreamed of the Equinox, and her thoughts startled her awake. She opened her violet eyes.
“Fib!” she called into the quiet of her hydrangea bower. She heard a scuffling, yawning, and a small bee fairy uncurled from a purple bloom, changing from bee shape to fairy shape as he stretched. He sat up blinking, wings glittering.
“What’s today, Fib?” Silka called to him, smoothing her butterfly wings and petal skirt.
“Today?” Fib rubbed the grit from his bluebell eyes, then he opened them wide in surprise. “The Equinox!!” Fib shouted with joy. Together, he and Silka flew out into the Outer World.
Still snow as far as the eye could see. A faded hydrangea bloom, like a fragile four leaf clover spun of earth, was the only visible bloom, their hydrangea bower safely behind the veil separating the Fairy World from the Outer World.
Silka and Fib decided, equinox or no equinox, some more dreaming was in order, and they retreated behind the veil.
If you like, you can read more Fae Flash Fiction here: Silka (Episode 1).
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Light in the Dark Naani
Dark falls swiftly,
My neighbor’s windows glow,
Turning the last winter snow pink
And the evening friendly.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Thanks to Blog it or Lose it for introducing me to the naani. The naani, a popular form of poetry in India, has four lines with 20-25 syllables total. Any subject is embraced, often relationships or current events.
References:
http://www.poetrydances.com/naani.php
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/naani.html
http://www.examiner.com/article/naani-an-easy-poetry-form
http://popularpoetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/02/naani.html
http://www.prose-n-poetry.com/display_work/8009
Movie Colors Haibun
Used by permission of Managua Gunn, via the Ligo Haibun Challenge.
I watch a movie, leaving my own issues behind. I give myself up to the color, the drama, the swirling action. In it, two women fly through the air, fighting bad guys with samurai swords, disdaining the laws of physics, aerodynamics and time itself, as a year’s events seem to take place in one day. I am exhilarated, lifted along on fantasy, imagining all my problems dealt with by a few swings of a sword and a graceful leap or two. I won’t even need to brush my hair, it will stay perfectly tidy through all of my life’s conflicts. The movie ends with a resolution of sorts. I return to my life with a crash.
She is an actress on a zip line, lifted through the air by elaborate structures, designed by engineers. I have no such assistance through my life’s adventures. I rely on tissues, Wet Ones, spare clothing for the kids and fast talking to solve most of my issues. I can’t slay people who hurt my kids, hit my van or leave dog poop on my lawn. Usually life doesn’t even present me with a “good guy” or a “bad guy,” just fallible people who may or may not have achieved their potential for good that day.
on good days
my boys finger-shoot the bad guys
through the van windows
I admire the beauty in the movies, but feel sad that it is transient, and yet, somehow we expect our lives to freeze at those years when we achieve our best appearances. If only we could look as though we were 30 forever. Here I am, nearly 20 years later, left contemplating actresses at their height of beauty, and feeling glad to have my eyes treated to such pleasure. I am surprised, again, when I look at myself in the mirror. Oh, that’s right, I’m not 30 anymore.
fantasy lifts
imagination carries us high
reality sets us down
I adore the fantasy, the color, the movement, the story that has a beginning, an exciting middle and an end. All the boring days of aching feet, cleaning up messes or healing broken arms is edited out. What if I told my life’s story like that, took out all the boring days, the broken bones, the accidents and the wrinkles? Would I lose myself in those tossed away bits?
broken branch falls
spring buds will never open
seeds disburse on the wind
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Inspired by the Ligo Haibun Challenge in its new location, and on its new day, Monday, with the above picture prompt. Thanks to Ese and Pirate for continuing.
Winter Blows a Kiss Haiku
bare branches yearn
silver birch buds tightly furled
winter sun teases
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Leprechaun Limerick
Over the rainbow, Finn danced.
Leprechauns watched him, entranced.
Nibbling clover,
The world over,
Until, on their gold, he chanced.
Note: The art work is courtesy of my daughter, and the cookie is courtesy of Antoine’s Pastry Shop. I hope you like this limerick for St. Patrick’s Day! A limerick is usually a silly poem with 5 lines having the rhyming pattern AABBA. The A lines are half again longer than the B lines. Even more relevantly, Limerick is an Irish city on the River Shannon.
Just for the love of limericks, here are a few favorites:
There was a young belle of old Natchez
Whose garments were always in patchez.
When comments arose
On the state of her clothes,
She replied, “When Ah itchez, Ah scratchez.”
—Ogden Nash
There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, “It is just as I feared!
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!”
—Edward Lear
There was a small boy of Quebec
Who was buried in snow to his neck.
When they asked, “Are you friz?”
He replied, “Yes, I is —
But we don’t call this cold in Quebec!”
—Rudyard Kipling
References:
http://www.prose-n-poetry.com/display_work/8009
http://travel.yahoo.com/p-travelguide-485663-limerick_vacations-i
http://www.thehypertexts.com/The%20Best%20Limericks%20of%20All%20Time.htm
http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Limerick_(poetry)
Centered Haibun
Centered, definition: adj., emotionally healthy and calm; emotionally stable and secure.
I learned to pray as a small child by placing my hands flat together, closing my eyes and bowing my head. That ritual helped me focus, set aside distractions and center myself. In yoga, I took quickly to prayer pose, which also uses hands placed together, head bowed and attention focused.
In prayer pose, I hear my breathing, like the waves of the ocean, calming me. I observe the movement of my rib cage, expanding, contracting, and I consciously deepen my breathing, holding it after taking a breath in, for a few seconds of stillness. I learned to focus my intention for that class: to set aside worries, to lay down burdens, and to think only of the needs of my body for those moments.
prayer pose
thoughts echo and grow still
breathe out worries
I haven’t been to a yoga class in years, but I had inspiring teachers, who were generous enough to help me design a home practice. I still practice yoga, and I am so grateful for it.
Prayer pose lets me feel close to the divine, for in the stillness and focusing of my mind I achieve calm. I hear the voice of the universe only in quiet moments, external and internal quiet.
tree pose
branches lifted to the sky
blessed by rain
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Linking to Haibun Thinking Week 8: Freestyle Week. A Haibun is prose, culminating in a haiku, often written of a moment along life’s journey.
Reference: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/centered.
Red Fairies Hiding Haiku
fairy closes cape
transforms into red berry,
vivid chrysalis
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Friendly Fairy Tales 