Among the white yacht-trees,
Zipping near and far,
Marina fairies splash and play,
Sleek, trim and yar.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Jilly-June the Summer Fairy
Lived high on a magic hillside,
Making cordial from black cherry
And hiding her sadness inside.
Arms curve gracefully,
Petal skirts twirl open in full circles.
Heads dip, legs stretch,
Fairy divas grace the garden,
Entrancing bees and butterflies.
Magic is scattered by dance.
The four winds lift the ballerinas high;
Down they touch, light as kisses.
Too fast for the eye to follow,
Fairy smiles unfold like wishes.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Don’t be sad, don’t be blue,
The whole world is blooming, just for you!
Life might be hard, it might even be grim,
But the music of flowers is like a hymn.
Magic surprises await you here and there,
Under the stars, in the sunshine, everywhere!
I choose to greet magic with a saucy grin.
Gossamer castles built by the spiders’ spin,
Bluebells, lavender, and tiny white lily of the valley bells,
Daisies, Coneflowers, Foxglove: therein magic dwells.
A shady bench, a fragrance sublime, a reverie,
A friendly fairy, that is all I need to be happy.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Once upon a perfect night, unclouded and still,
there came the face of a pale and beautiful lady.
The tresses of her hair reached out to make the constellations,
and the dewy vapours of her gown fell soft upon the land.
Designers of fairy couture collections
Grow the very best gowns ever worn,
Lacing perfect petals into dashing confections,
Borrowing starlight to gild and adorn.
Queen Peony, in her ball gown,
Casts the smaller ladies into the shade,
When she dances, in her shining crown,
Hearts are kindled and dreams made.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
References: Brainy Quotes
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
“Look at the baby!” An elder fairy cooed then sipped nectar of jalapeño.
“Oh, she’s so cute!” A barrista fairy chimed in, while handing out honey-frappes.
“Look how pink she is!” A third fairy exclaimed, sipping her honeysuckle frappuccino.
“Thanks, my dears,” the mother fairy replied, “I just hope she naps!”
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Happy Memorial Day, everybody, from the Rhododendron Fairy Cafe!
Warmly, Brenda
“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.
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
[Sh]e was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up.
― J.M. Barrie
Walking in the woods today, I listened for the music of the wind. I heard the crescendo of growing things, and a soft decrescendo of falling magnolia petals. Trees in leaf harmonized with delicious sap running, after a long frozen winter. Squirrel feet danced so fast, they seemed to be touching only clouds. Bees, drunk with plentiful nectar, wobbled in flight. Landing on pear blossoms, the bees turned round as though tumbling down hillsides, spinning, dizzy, buzzy.
stretching straight sunshine-ward
furled fairy fiddlehead,
music makes me merry
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: A haibun is prose followed by poetry, often a haiku. If any of my other haibun-writing friends are parched from a reduction in prompts, feel free to take my picture or the quote as a prompt, and write your own haibun, just please give my name as the photographer. Ping me or leave a comment here, and I will be happy to read it! I don’t know how to do the linky, so I can’t offer that. The quote was originally “He” not “[Sh]e” so it can be either way.
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.