A Prince, A Wince and a Shy Summer Fairy

Roses on an Iron Gate

Jilly-June the Summer Fairy
Lived high on a magic hillside,
Making cordial from black cherry
And hiding her sadness inside.

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Fairy Ballerinas

Pink flowers

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

Orange You Blue?

Orange and blue flowers

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

Fairy Ball Gowns

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.

— Kit Williams


Peony

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

 

 

Happy Independence Day!

Melted Popsicle

Happy Independence Day!!

Holiday today,
Now we shall play.
Popsicles, tricycles,
Big kids on bicycles.

Let’s fire up the grill
Flip burgers with a will.
Eat the first home-grown tomatoes
With salad made from potatoes.

We just need to see the sun
For the whole day to be fun.
We plan to see the fireworks tonight:
The whole day will turn out right!

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: Due to rainy weather, all of the above fun will happen tomorrow when we see the sun. Luckily we are flexible. 🙂

If you need a story to read the kids, try Fairy Independence Day.

Happy International Fairy Day!!

IMG_8877

Here is a poem in honor of the fairies, Flower Bower:

Fragranced wind blows steadily,
Sparkles of magic spin and settle to the meadow.
Fairies dance jigs when the fiddler plays
Under the shady flower bower.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Happy International Fairy Day!!

References: Days of the YearPunchbowl, Fae and Enchantment Magazine, and The Examiner.

Happy Midsummer!

Foxglove in Sunshine

May your inner light shine on the longest day,
Reflecting back the light of the universe.

I also offer a free midsummer fairy tale set in Ireland, about a young girl and the traditions of her family on Midsummer. Here is a link to Midsummer Stew, a tale of fairy retribution and redemption and of the interconnectedness of us all.

Blessings, Brenda

White Butterfly Dream

IMG_8884

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

 

 

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