White Butterfly Dream

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The white butterfly raises her wings,
Setting sail across the wide Dogwood Sea.
Wind makes the crossing choppy,
White wings jibe and come about,
Alighting nowhere, like a fae albatross.
The cabbage-white butterfly blends —
She could be a dogwood petal
But for her mesmerizing aerial dance.
One tiny egg laid on the underside of a mustard leaf,
Gave birth to her brief but ecstatic life.
Her tiny white wing-sails make of the air an endless ocean.
Oh, to dance with her on the white breakers,
Smelling sweetly of spring rather than salt
With nectar’s spray dampening my skin.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Succor for Soul Ninette

succulents in a pot

 

Still
Garden
Succulents,
Thick and fleshy,
Summer heart pulsing,
Pride of Wood Elves,
Flowers not,
Dry Wit,
Root.

Note: This poem is a Ninette, with 5 lines, starting with one syllable on the first line, increasing by ones to five on the fifth and then decreasing by ones to one syllable on the last line. Or a syllable count of: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Reference: Poetry Soup – Ninette

Fairy Tale Flower

White Tulips

To glow in the cold rain,
When bleak skies are dim,
And never once complain,
You could be written by Grimm.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

White Tulips

Flash Fiction: Dogwood Manor

Pink dogwood blooms

“No, no, we cannot let in riffraff.” The countess was firm. “No exceptions. We have never taken a transfer student from a white dogwood school, and we never will.”

Petalline’s head drooped, hiding her defiant expression. Her wings fluttered angrily, though.

“We have empty places, my dear, and the young lady has no where else to go. She must go to school here near her Grand-maman.” Baron von Rimple-Dimple had a soft heart, but his sister was used to getting her way.

“Pink Dogwood Manor only takes the most select dogwood fairies. Pink Dogwood Fairies!”

“My dear she has studied at the renowned Paris École des Beaux Arts in the Cornouiller Blanc class. What can be more select than that?”

Petalline the Dogwood Fairy carefully did not meet the eye of the Baron, who was pink-washing her background. Cornouiller Blanc simply meant White Dogwood, but the Baron knew his sister well. Her snobbery was only exceeded by her ignorance of French. She would never admit to not knowing anything.

“Petalline, I am happy to say we have an opening.” The countess gushed, quite overlooking that she had called Petalline “riffraff” only moments before. “You may start your classes tomorrow. Welcome to Pink Dogwood Manor.”

Petalline however, did not forget having been called riffraff. Later that term, when someone turned the entire manor white, only the Baron guessed who was responsible. The Countess merely had hysterics until all the petals were returned to their pink glory. Petalline felt the books had been balanced, and she was a model student thereafter.

 

white dogwood

 

 

Bewitching Haiku

Purple Irises in Sunshine

fae iris magicks
sprinkled generously
bewitch passersby

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Forsythia Fairy Path

Forsythia path

Forsythia: golden bells curving overhead;
A green path winds through the hedge.
I step under the archway and stop dead.
A forsythia fairy flutters, about to fledge.

The air is filled with crystalline shine,
And a magic gale forces me backward.
I catch a glimpse of the fairy in flight, sublime.
Then the path is empty; my tale fractured.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

 

Charming Ladies Haiku

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grand duchesses
charming ladies in waiting
tulips for the queen

Orange Tulips

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Clarity Pyramid: FAE

Cherry blooms, clouds

FAE
Fairy
Magical

Winged joy in child’s heart
Connected to nature
Hides in imagination

“For to have faith is to have wings.”

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: The quote is from Peter Pan, by J. M. Barrie. This was inspired by Paint the World with Words, hey, Amreen, I hope you are feeling better soon!! (She apparently had a bad week or two.) A Clarity Pyramid is a poetic form with so many rules that I decided not to write one, right before one popped into my head in that mysterious way ideas have. I’ll set out the rules: 7 lines, increasing in syllable count, 1/2/3 then 5/6/7 culminating in an 8 syllable quotation. The title should be the one syllable line, bold and in all caps, and then the rest of the poem describes or elucidates the title.

Flash Fiction: River Romance

Mallard Male and Female Ducks

The sun was setting, cherry blossoms perfumed the air, and Esme’s handsome boyfriend, Al, paddled at her side. His fine, green Mallard head feathers looked purple in the waning sunlight. She nibbled on bulrushes.

Sakura, Cherry Blossoms

Nosy daffodils crowded round taking selfies. You’d think it was an award ceremony.

Daffodils, river, fairy tale

Esme would let nothing lessen the magic of the evening. There on the riverfront, she and Al sipped water laden with tasty seeds. The silvery twilight faded, and fairies flickered like fireflies. Al offered Esme a tasty tuber under the Three Birches. She sighed with pleasure.

Birches on the river at sunset

Al raised his wings and drummed the water from happiness. Together they swam figures eights, intertwining their wakes, visible ripples of pleasure. Before Esme returned to her family’s nest on the far bank, her beak brushed Al’s farewell. A door had opened in her heart, perhaps Al would pass through one day.

sun sets on longings
solitary triangle of ripples
rushes bend in winds

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: This is my farewell haibun dedicated to Al, but it’s fictional, so I called it a flash fiction in the title. Al has run the weekly Haibun Thinking prompt, which sadly has ended. I hope you don’t mind me making free with your moniker, Al! I am a bit late with my entry, but I was preparing for and attending a writer’s conference. I have to scale back my blogging in May. I will be rewriting my children’s chapter book. Wish me luck! My plan is to blog in the evenings if I have any energy. 🙂

References:

http://diet.yukozimo.com/what-do-mallard-ducks-eat/
http://www.ask.com/question/what-do-mallard-ducks-eat

May Queen

Tulip magnolia

Sad May Queen and her court,
Drenched, washed by rain,
Cold droplets cascade off,
Heavy heads rise when
The torrent ceases, blue sky
Teases, clouds chase the wind.

Then state visits commence,
Foreign dignitaries hasten toward
The still glistening, but elegant
Tulip Magnolia Queen.
Bees kiss her hands, aquiver,
Trembling to touch her perfume.

A sensitive courtier
Drips tears onto the lawn.
Pink petals fall and
Lay like lotus blooms
On a glassy pond, quiet
Except for water dripping.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Infernal Internal Poem: Fae Clan

Blue Green Bracket Fungus in Early Spring

Blue with missing sun’s hue,
Forlorn fungus is winter worn.
Spring, its insides begin to zing —
Humongous will grow the fungus.

See some color in the woods like me,
Hiding fairies will be giggling, gliding.
Pearly wings beat, sending air whirling.
Can you hear them? They are the Fae Clan!

Thin hibernating animals can now grin,
Food is aplenty, no time to brood.
Fairies plan to gather and be merry:
Sharing, dancing, laughing, caring.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: The Infernal Internal is a new poetry form I created. The first and last words within each line rhyme.

Cherry Intoxication

Drunk with cherry blossom aroma,
The tiniest fairy weaves a crooked path,
Skating down pink branches and
Leaping petal to petal, wings beating happily.
The pollen coats her so thickly,
The bees start to pursue her.

Cherry blossoms in Spring

She shimmers into her other form.
A pale white butterfly flutters
Where once a tiny girl with wings flew.
The bees give up the chase,
Turnings back to the cherry blooms,
Here for such a short time.

 Juniper Berries in Spring

Erratically, the fae-butterfly flies,
Lighting finally on a juniper bush.
She changes back to a young girl,
Sipping nectar from the blue dew-cones.
Her transparent wings flitter, flutter.
Then on into spring she adventures.

 Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham