Weather Witch

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Tempers ran high when the snow started to fall.
Frog would not come out of his palace at all.
Orla Fairy drank cup after cup of tea.
Jake the Forest Snip, belligerent was he.

Down the slippery village road he stalked.
Approaching all the closed doors: Bang! bang! he knocked.
A Siberian tiger paced and snarled,
Snow piled onto his fur, nails old and gnarled.

Forest Snip banged on the Weather Witch’s door,
Calling out, “What are you thinking, you great bore!”
“You tell her,” said the old tiger with a grin.
“Stop your banging!” came a shrill voice from within.

Out with demands came a magnificent mouse:
“Stop making a racket in front of my house!”
“We all talked and decided, it would be spring!”
Jake the Forest Snip’s words had a rousing ring.

Fairy Orla put down her tea, now resigned.
Outside, she said: “Mags, an accord was designed.”
“Don’t you dare call me Mags,” the Weather Witch grumped.
“But why did you change your mind? We are all stumped,”

Fairy Orla inquired. “Dear, we all see snow.”
“Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, you know!
How can I ignore that?” asked the Weather Witch.
The tiger’s black and white striped fur gave a twitch.

He growled: “Don’t tell me we have to wait six weeks!”
Fairy Orla sadly brushed snow from her cheeks.
“All this cold for a Pennsylvania rodent?”
Fairy Orla snapped, ending quite despondent.

The witch scratched her mouse whiskers with tiny nails.
“There might be a way, but if done wrong it fails.
Gather some helleborus, ginger root, moss,
Shrew coat clippings, raven feathers, grassy floss,”

The Witch listed, hugging her pink coat tightly.
“Gather all that, my friends, gather it sprightly.
A brew will I prepare that will end this storm,”
Gravely she spoke, looking at snowflakes, forlorn.

All but the ginger root came quickly to hand.
Not one could be found on fairy village land.
They bartered for roots with five passing tinkers,
But Forest Snip lost them dicing with drinkers.

Now all were snarling at Jake the Forest Snip.
He left to go south on an extended trip.
More and more snowflakes drifted quietly down.
“Each thing has its time,” quoth the mouse with a frown.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Winter’s Jewels Haiku

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golden pine droplets

fairy cobblers harvest

resin slippers shine

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Midwinter Song

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Midwinter fairies dancing,
Joyous reindeer prancing,
Colorful lights enhancing,

Continue reading

Taste of Winter in the Pathya Vat

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Fae folk travel,
Long cold rambles,
Deep in brambles.
Winter berries
Feed some hungry
Hiding fairies,
Wanting cherries
Or sugarplums.

For those into poetry forms:

A Pathya Vat is a form of poetry originating in Cambodia. Continue reading

Beautiful Berries Haiku

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heavy jeweled branches

offerings for the fairies

delightful berries

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Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Red Mushroom Mansion

Used Courtesy of Postaldeliveries

Used Courtesy of Postaldeliveries

Maybelle had often admired the red mushrooms mansions, where she imagined only the very luckiest of fae could live. She liked to imagine the quiet with only a few neighbors. She had been living in a fungus highrise since she was born, surrounded by constant noise and banter.

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Sylphanya, her sprite-mother, was hardly ever home and wanted different things than Maybelle. Her mother cared only for painting autumn leaves whereas Maybelle was drawn to water blossoms. Her mother seemed to like having a hundred neighbors, singing out happy hellos to everyone.

Maybelle knew the other fae-children thought she was a bit odd. Her near-neighbor Jamus called her a loner that morning because she hardly ever joined him and his sister, Dolpha, for nectar in the berry bar.

Maybelle was sad all day, not even the rainbow tints of a new lotus bloom cheered her. Maybelle decided to find her mother. Continue reading

Golden Path Etheree

Golden Woodland Path

Leaf
Falling,
Citrine dream.
Windy swirling,
Gold honey blizzard,
Swirls of a fairy’s cloak.
Restless spirits soar higher
With each dancing leaf falling down
To the shifting, shadowy hemline.
Surfeit of beauty looking at fall’s gown.

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: This poem is an Etheree, starting with one syllable on the first line and increasing to ten, one syllable per line.

November Haiku

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Iceskating Fairies

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Thistles with icy prickles

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Nature rimmed in white

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Crankypot Halloween

Friendly Fairy Tales is pleased to offer a Halloween story for Adventurous Fairy Tale readers, Crankypot Halloween. Here is an excerpt:

Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it, trippingly.
First rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

— William Shakespeare
(A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act V, Scene II)

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The gray-haired man sat tapping his fingers on his knee, without noticing tiny flickering lights under drooping dahlias, but he was aware of the darkening sky. He did not notice three raven nests in the tree across the street. A little girl followed the flickering lights, crying the whole way, closer and closer to where the man sat in the dark.

He heard her weeping by the gate, and shouted “Take your tricks elsewhere! No treats here!” He had been guarding his yard from the pitch-black of his porch for 25 years, not letting any trick-or-treaters through the gate, all lights off.

The crying got louder. “Go away, you can’t trick me!” He shouted again, unable to see anything with the sun sinking fast. He heard hiccups, then even louder wailing. He flipped the floodlights on, against his usual policy entirely. In the wash of yellow light, all the flickering twilight fairies hid, and the ravens called out, restless.

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He sighed and approached the gate for the first time in 25 years on Halloween. In the light from his floodlights, he saw a little girl with blonde curls stuck to her wet cheeks. Tears were rolling down from her eyes, and dangling on the strands of her hair like dew. The straps of her pink butterfly wings had slid off her shoulders, and she clutched a pillow case tightly in a fist. She looked just like his daughter, Ella Mae, all those years ago when he caught her sneaking out to trick-or-treat behind his back. He had yelled at Ella Mae, and now she lived on the opposite side of the country.

“What’s the matter, girl?” He asked gruffly.

 

 

To find out what happens, whether tricks or treats, please click on Crankpot Halloween.

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Star Fairy Fibonacci Poem

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Quick!

Hide!

Deep down,

All alone.

She fled the falcon,

Taking cover in a canyon

Still she could hear it screaming for her to come out now!

Never would a star fairy fear a peregrine falcon, but she was injured and drained.

She sang to her kin, sparkling in twilight air; soon they entangled the bird in a magic web, destroying his concentration, and saving her.

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: A Fibonacci Poem is one in which each succeeding line is equal in syllable length to the syllable length of the preceding two lines added together, or one, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, etc. Usually they are 5 or 6 lines long, but I wanted to see if I could write one 8 lines long. 

Lonely Birch Haiku

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Lonely birch on shore

looking past the changing leaves,

Saying nothing more.

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Disappearing Toadstools

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Mr. Puffy!” Jane walked by a small patch of clover and two red leaves, calling for the Lord of the Stone Family. “Puff Monster!” The family cat definitely ruled their roost. Her father worried over him like a hen over a chick, Jane thought to herself with a smile.

She heard a gasp behind her, and she turned to look. Nothing. Except, beside the clover patch, was now a toadstool circle. All the toadstools looked down, as if not wanting to draw attention to themselves. They seemed to be hiding. Continue reading