A wonderful green haiku that made me stop, think and smile. I hope you like the poem and photo. They are from Grumpytyke, and the name of the blog also made me smile. Have great weeks everybody! Warmly, Brenda
Green satiated
Winter songsters’ sanguine store
Shiver prophesy
View original post 78 more words
Bats flying, silent,
Leaves rustle on windless nights
Silver moon hiding.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
A wonderful, light-hearted rhyming poem about a dragon by PookyH. I hope you enjoy it! Have a great weekend! Brenda
In a faraway land where the sea meets the sky,
And the hills are marshmallows and the rocks are alive,
Live a colony of dragons – the regular sort –
With fire-breathing bellies, who eat children for sport.
They fill children with fear, and animals too
(When there’s no girls for dinner, a puppy will do).
Their breath is appalling, their manners atrocious,
Breeding fear and loathing is their only true focus.
Except for one dragon who’s not scary at all,
A mild-mannered dragon the others call Paul.
He’s not big nor ferocious, in fact he’s quite sweet
(Once you get used to the pong of his feet).
He doesn’t eat children for breakfast or lunch
He doesn’t like dinner with knee bones to crunch.
The others all think he is rather peculiar
Except for his true dragon love, Jumpy Julia
(Who unlike her dragon friends, simply can’t fly,
She…
View original post 337 more words
Baby Coyote lived in a den with his mom and dad, deep in a wood surrounded by the roads and houses of big folk. Mom and Dad Coyote hunted at night. In the early morning, they woke Baby Coyote. They fed him, played with him and kept him safe. They usually slept away the long hours the big folk were walking the trails, but sometimes they would hide and watch them pass by. The big folk seemed to see nothing at all that was not on the trails. Baby Coyote thought they were funny, especially when they would exclaim over dragonflies or poison ivy.
One morning, his mom and dad had to go visit the faraway woods. On the sunshine oak next door, hidden in the nasturtiums behind a round door, lived a happy gnome. His name was Iron Hair, for his stiff, spiky gray hair. Continue reading
My memory is a bottomless treasure trove, full of beloved moments. Photographs are the jewels, the pieces of eight, the doubloons. One day in early summer, we visited the Bronx Zoo, and my children were enchanted with the animals. We rode the Wild Asia Monorail, and heard about deer and buffalo species protected from extinction. Some of the animals were extinct in their natural habitat and were reintroduced to the wild from the Zoo’s protected herds, which had thrived in a large enclosure for over a hundred years.
Zebras, giraffes, deer,
Species preserved from the past,
My children held rapt.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This was prepared for this week’s Ligo Haibun prompt, treasure.
This newest Haiku is dedicated to all of you, my readers, who have supported and encouraged me over the last miraculous seven months! I am redesigning the appearance of friendlyfairytales. I plan to use a more customizable theme, primarily to celebrate nature more. The new appearance will be more simple and clean, I hope. Please do give me feedback.
Also, I have two Halloween stories coming in the second half of October! Thrills and chills await you, should your path cross here again soon!
Without further delay, Changes Coming Haiku:
Grown no longer new
Something new comes from the old
New growth embraced, held.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Magic wings lightly
Paint the earth a bright rainbow,
Vivid joy dancing.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This post is dedicated to my friend, E, who walks with me most days, and is endlessly patient and encouraging of my taking pictures, and to my children who love to find things for me to photograph, too. And to my hubby, who stops the car when I just have to take a picture. Photography has become much more important to me that I could have imagined, and I owe that to the people I love, who bear with me. Hugs, Brenda
Fall
Seedpods
Sticky Blooms
Carried by birds
Scattered by rainstorms
Sticking to animals
Silk expanding on breezes
Tiny hopes for the plant’s future
Carrying next year’s dreams, hearts aloft
Dormant all winter, waiting to burst forth.
Copyright 2013 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.
Young Ghost is not grave,
Dancing with a poltergeist;
Gravestone dominoes.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Picture by Penny
Crabgrass can grow on bowling balls in airless rooms, and there is no known way to kill it that does not involve nuclear weapons. — Dave Barry
Crabgrass can grow without fertilizer, mulch, watering, edging and protection from other plants. It springs up in any crack or crevice in the walkway, in the middle of the lawn or between bushes and the house foundation where light shines for less than five minutes in a day. What if good thoughts were like that? Even if the day was dark and cold, with a stiff wind blowing the rain sideways. What if happy thoughts took root like crabgrass, growing deep roots, sending thick green arms in all directions, blocking all dark thoughts from coming near.
Peter Pan taught Wendy to concentrate on a happy thought, and she could fly with the help of some fairy dust. What could you accomplish if you concentrate on a happy thought? Picture it taking hold like crabgrass and nothing can kill that happy thought. Perhaps you could even smile, all day long.
I’m going to be the crabgrass. I’m concentrating on the ocean. My happy thoughts involve a waterfall, a volcanic valley, snorkeling and the best sushi I ever had in my life. Do you know where I was? I hope you have a happy thought that can take hold like crabgrass.
blue waves curl inside
lapping on the golden shore
of my memory
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
To find the prompt for the haibun, click on the Ligo Haibun Challenge.
A lovely magical poem from Scottishmomus, of the all-seeing eye. Here she beards a dragon in his lair. Happy long weekend! Brenda
A fire burns
Within this cave
And sulphur
Fills the air.
Exploration,
Through the mire,
Finds
The dragon’s lair
Where slumber’s rest
Holds still
His breath, flame now
Quietly quenched.
Wait, survey,
A quiet snore,
Now the time
To wrench
One scale from tail
Of beast of lore
Bless’d magic,
Glitter’d gem
Holds promise of
Imagination.
To brave only,
It is given.
Sahm’s idea of a dragon paves the way.
I was the maple
green, strong, making food from light,
Then came the changes.
Longer nights chilled me,
what cold did change, color and more,
Called forth a new me.
Who am I now, tree?
Or a lone leaf? One of many,
Many leaves falling.
Yes, falling alone,
Under this tree gathering,
Until the wind comes.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Friendly Fairy Tales 