The church is near but the road is all ice;
the tavern is far but I’ll walk very carefully.
Russian Proverb
Years ago, I was working for a minimal salary. My net pay barely covered the expenses of professional clothing, commuting, food and rent. I worked very hard the first year, trying to be the perfect employee, working quickly, seeking extra work, hoping I would earn a big raise. I slid sideways into debt when my car was totaled in an accident and my cat needed expensive medicine.
Winter red thorns,
Hardened by ice
And sharpened twice
Into needles,
Holes bored through by
Friendly beetles.
Continue reading
A look that never goes out of style: the classic sunset.
Each tree takes her time dressing,
Wrapping herself in an ermine stole for a winter fete,
Mother Nature extends each a blessing.
Leave it to Eva to find the happy magic in all this cold and ice we are enduring in New England! Thanks for this image and the wonderful poem. Yum!! I want some hot chocolate after braving the container store! The after-holiday-packing-up blues commence. Cheers and Stay Warm, Brenda
snowflakes fly sideways
grasses sing in the fierce wind
nature bows to storm
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Embracing the classical beginnings of haiku, as this author understands them, and as described in the post: Carpe Diem Goes Back to Its Roots #4 by Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. I cannot hope to explain haiku better, so I just link in zen appreciation. Peace and Joy!
Yangshao never knew what woke him from his thousand year sleep under the frozen taiga. His muscular, golden legs and long limber back snapped and creaked. His lungs filled with crisp, clean air, as he emerged from deep under the ice. Brilliant lights at the far horizon drew his sharp dragon eyes south. The night sky filled with swirling reds, yellows and oranges, and these colors reminded him of his best friend, Xin-Yin, the Phoenix. Brilliant blue star shapes expanded, filling the sky as the other colors faded.
Yangshao’s back rippled side to side like a snake as he flew up and over the larch and birch forest, his vertebrae cracking like saplings in an ice storm. His golden claws clenched and released, easing their stiffness, then reached up to itch between his horns. His whiskers trembled in the cold wind, and he started to feel alive, his senses filling with the forest fragrance. He brushed the tips of snow-laden spruce trees for the joy the showering powder gave him. He felt his magic renewed from his long years of slumber.
His senses expanded over the lands searching for Xin-Yin. Where was she? Continue reading
Picture used by kind permission of Ines Williamson
In the yellow light of a new night, the cobblestones echo my thoughts back to me. “Why are you here?” Here is where I started, in a small apartment past that iron gate. The first sunshine I ever remember seeing flooded into my tiny room there on the third floor.
My friends and I played stickball and tackle-tommy in the Magic Between. That special time between school and dinner is what I miss most, that magical time when parents were busy and kids could play. I remember the Between as one big blur, like an endless summer day: my homerun, Jack’s skinned knee and when Bats broke his arm swinging over the fence instead of walking through like everyone else.
I rang in the New Year with my folks in their new place across town, but this golden gateway is where the little-me, my memory, still lives. I remember when Stefan’s snake escaped, and Mrs. Nolan came screaming down her stairs, after finding it curled under her stove.
Is home on these cobbles? Or in the window glass I looked through on a night like tonight? My sister and I wished on a star. Wishes are secret, but mine was to fly in an airplane one day, to be inside one leaving a contrail wide enough to be seen all over the city, knowing people were looking up at the roar I made. Then my sister and I realized the only star in the sky was moving, not a star at all, probably an airplane. Do wishes made on planes come true? This one did.
I came back to my hometown on an airplane, home to see my folks, so happy in their new apartment, all their things reduced and rearranged. My sister is busy with her three kids and their teenage angst, but she came to see me and our parents. I don’t think she really saw me. We barely spoke. I couldn’t think what to say to her. I wonder what her wish was, all those years ago. I know better than to ask. Now a new airplane will take me home to Boston, my other home.
home is in my heart
not here on this cobbled street
but I hear its echo
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Inspired by the first Līgo Haībun Challenge of 2014, part of a picture prompt from Ese at Ese’s Voice.
small oak sapling sways
leaves bob in the bitter wind
frosted with snowflakes
waving to fallen leaf friends
oak leaf lingers to kiss spring buds
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: A Tanka is a Japanese poetry form that has five lines with syllable counts per line of 5, 7, 5, 7, and 7. In another way of thinking of it, a Tanka is a haiku with two longer seven-syllable lines added as a second stanza. Some purists find fault with any rhyming within the poem. The third line is intended to be a turning point, or a pivot, about which the meaning of the poem turns or changes. I don’t know if my poem achieved that or not. I enjoyed learning about it, and I hope you’ll give it a try, too.
References:
http://www.edu.pe.ca/stjean/playing%20with%20poetry/Hennessey/how_to_write_a_tanka_poem.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanka
http://examples.yourdictionary.com/reference/examples/examples-of-tanka-poetry.html
http://www.poetry4kids.com/blog/news/how-to-write-a-tanka-poem/
Even the bushes have on their coats
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Little leaves
Buried in the snow,
Peeking out
Like children,
Dressed in their red pajamas,
Throwing off covers.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This poem is called a Shadorma, which is a rhythmic six-line poetry form, each line having specific syllable counts of 3, 5, 3, 3, 7 and 5. It may be modern; it may be a revived older poetry form. Some attribute it to Spain, although to me it sounds Indian, for no other reason than it rhymes with Lamb Korma. No authority I found gave it a definitive origin, and I offer it to you as a beautiful form, allowing a licentious 26 syllables instead of the austere 17 permitted by haiku. It’s a heady freedom!
References:
http://risinghawkspeaks.wordpress.com/2013/12/22/noreaster/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadorma
http://www.poetrypages.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?t=16872
http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poets/shadorma-a-highly-addictive-poetic-form-from-spain
http://popularpoetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/01/shadorma.html
http://caraholman.wordpress.com/tag/shadorma-poetry/
Welcome 2014
spiky shells store treats
far up a bare chestnut tree
kept for the new year
I hope your new year has many saved treats, stored against the long winter.
I also hope you find just what you need, when you first realize you need it. Joyous New Year!
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Northern lights result from solar emissions traveling across space and colliding with earth, sparking incredible light displays. They can happen any time or any place on earth, but the lights, uncoiling like chinese dragons, are only visible in the darkest night sky. Perhaps we are always surrounded by these subtle displays of arching color, but our eyes cannot see them in the greater brightness of the sun and moon.
Friendly Fairy Tales 