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October 30, 2015

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Squashed Sonnet

Freckle Goblin wriggles under gourds,
tired by a night’s divine carousing.
Freckle dreams of youthful fun in fjords.
After chasing ghosts, he can’t help drowsing.
Boom! He wakes to sulfur scents and peril.
Freckle peeks. He spots fair Glisten Rue.
“Enemy!” he hisses, turning feral.
“Flee, you witch!” he snarls. She pouts: “Listen, you
ruined parties, chased a lovely spirit.
This will be your Halloween goodnight!”
“No, my lady,” Freckle shouts, “I fear it
will be you destroyed!” He swings his right.
Acorn squash, gourds and pumpkins tumble.
Mashed and bashed, she flees. Trip and stumble!
Goblins rule on Halloween night —
even scary witches flee with fright.

Pumpkins

Notes:

Happy Halloween!

The first 14 lines of this is a sonnet, rhyming ABABCDCDEFEFGG. It didn’t feel quite finished to me, so I threw in a bonus couplet for those trick-or-treaters reading to the end. For the meter nerds in the crowd, it’s written in trochaic pentameter. In plain English, each line has ten syllables, alternately stressed and unstressed, with maybe a few variations. It took DAYS to write!! Now that’s frightening!

This is linked to the Third Annual Spooky Writing Challenge at the Writing Works in Progress Blog. Also, this is my entry for Poetry Friday (if a bit late in the day), hosted this week by Check it Out. Yeah for poetry! Thanks to all the great poetry writers and fans in Poetry Friday’s crowd!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 26, 2015

Posted under

Photography

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30 Comments

Tender Moments

Note: My surgery has allowed others in the family to be the hero of their story. Here my oldest is giving a ride to my youngest. If you have a tender moment, please link to Cee’s Photo A Week Challenge: Tender Moments.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 18, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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49 Comments

Autumn Honey

Do rusty blooms taste bittersweet,
of summer gone, left incomplete?
Thick stems are braced for swirls
from wind, even hurricanes whirls.
Honey formed on shortening days
might fizz, pop and amaze.
Will a bit smeared on bread
come with warnings of danger ahead?
Perhaps tea sweetened with that nectar
would raise an unholy specter,
a white vision of winter coming,
icy, pale dreams thrumming.
I recklessly stir it into a cup,
unafraid of what might turn up.
The stillness of a perfect day
belies the storms headed this way.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 12, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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41 Comments

Fields of Fun

Skipping and hopping,
from petal to leaf,
chased by beetles,
is a nectar thief!

Jack Frost’s cousin,
Chill, the Fall sprite,
arrives every October,
to the beetle’s fright.

“Stop right now,
you hairy beast!”
Stinkbugs shout
but he flees east.

He turns the nectar,
into golden art,
dabbed on leaves —
summer’s torn apart.

From nectar to mold,
black spots of blight
multiply and dismay,
as he zigzags in flight.

October’s arrived and
Autumn’s show has begun.
Protest though you may,
he will have his fun.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 4, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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24 Comments

Berries Dry

Birds feed
on berry seed
red feather
autumn weather
no rain
summer’s gain
hot day
children play
rain hat
turkeys fat
eat weeds
swollen seeds
rain late
streams in spate
school’s out
puddles: shout

Note: No matter what the weather, the birds eat and the kids play. Flocks of turkeys roam the neighborhood, pecking and munching. They’re as tall as my children and unafraid of anything but dogs!

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

September 27, 2015

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Photography, Poetry

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27 Comments

Cider Sweet

In the green dappled shade, beneath
a cider-smelling apple tree,
is earth magic.
A white blossom in spring swells to
a tiny, green fruit in July:
summer magic.
I pull down the autumn-red fruit, and
its tart-sweet crunch in my teeth
is apple magic.

Note: The SCBWI conference was an inspiration and confirmed for me that I’m on the right path. My crazy fits with their crazy. 🙂 My surgery is in the morning, so it might be over before you even read this. Halleluja, may the worrying be past and the healing begun. Soon, I’ll be having more fun! Meanwhile, I have a bowl of sun-sweet Macintosh apples. XOXO Brenda

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

September 20, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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61 Comments

Fairy Dust Haibun

To step amongst giant phlox, rudbeckia and Russian sage is to enter a suburban fairyland, a small oasis surrounded by the desert of houses, concrete and asphalt.

meadow blooms
sharp fragrance intoxicates
fingers sap-sticky

Bronxville garden

Goldfinches feast on spiky echinacea seeds, while redheaded woodpeckers knock on fence posts. Sparrows dart under eaves. Day lilies bob, and a rabbit emerges from the grassy leaves, smug and plump. The gardener is the majordomo.

crickets stir
hundreds of insects hum
spiders spin

A shady spot provides a view of an apple tree, too young to bear fruit. At its feet, the profusion of jeweled blossoms is blinding. Magic floats past in the sunbeams. Time slows to this one perfect moment.

Fairy dust gilds bees and
sparkles on flower petals.
Dragonflies hover
like hummingbirds,
held aloft by magic
or science
or faith.
Sudden breezes
bring a rainstorm
of fairy dust,
dried to pollen
by the hazy sun,
solar fast.

But even magic
cannot make summer last.

Note: A haibun is a Japanese form of prose alternating with poetry, often haiku. It’s often a recollection of one’s day, in present tense. A few moments in a garden, and suburbia drops away. These photos and memories are from Bronxville, New York, where I happily helped a friend celebrate his 60th birthday. Bronxville is a village of Westchester County, part of the Tri-State Area that surrounds New York City. People commute to Manhattan in half an hour. Have a magical weekend!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

August 26, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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31 Comments

Green Magic

Green leaves entrance,
make my feet dance
down pathways
through wildflowers
into secret glades,
surrounded by
silent sentinels:
pine, oak and spruce.
The hum of crickets
finds me where I hide
but no other person does.
In that loud silence,
full of ducks quacking,
geese honking,
bees buzzing,
and mosquitoes hunting,
one yellow leaf falls.
Even the crickets pause
in shocked wonder.
Clouds thicken and churn,
rain slashes and dashes,
the sky’s anger interconnected,
a reflection of us all.
The coming of autumn
is part of summer,
as sunset is part of day.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

March 18, 2015

Posted under

Photography

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16 Comments

Wordless Song of Seasons

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 3, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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48 Comments

Snow White Seeds

Winter Queen Snow-White,
Reigning over gardens past,
Spreading seeds near and far:
Tiny spin-drift wind-sailing
Sprites, tiny bits of last year,
Carried through cold to the next,
Come fill my garden with purple,
Amber and russet possibility.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 15, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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25 Comments

Frost Enchants

Thousands of frost stars
Twinkle on every fallen leaf.
The sky is an aching blue.
Balsam intermingles with spruce.
Diamond dust paves the autumn path
With glinting winter magic:
Sparkles in each sunlit step.
In shade, the wildwood is quiet.
Cold frost rimes the fallen log.
Breath is visible, and runners steam.
One ray of weak sun is enough to
Blind, dazzling the senses.