grand duchesses
charming ladies in waiting
tulips for the queen
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
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.
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.
Nosy daffodils crowded round taking selfies. You’d think it was an award ceremony.
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.
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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
May the flowers be blooming
No thorny troubles looming
No loved ones glooming
Joy and love finding room in
Bird song and kitten crooning
Ears hear only colorful sound
Where imagination is found
Tight bindings are unbound
Old deadwood is downed
Magnolias bloom all round
Returning geese take wing
Making ever-young hearts sing
Spring music makes hips swing
Spinning lovers into a highland fling
In an enchanted fairy ring
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Today we crowned the Fae Queen.
Did you hear her sing
Like a lark?
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Inspired by Paint the World with Words Poetry Prompt, the Quinzaine, which is a form of three-lined, unrhymed poetry, taking the form of a statement with a question in one or two parts, with a syllable count, 7/5/3.
Sample Quinzaines:
Life holds new adventures
Will I fear it
or will I grab it?
Flower pictures please me so;
Is it the colors
Or the bees?
References:
http://voices.yahoo.com/can-write-quinzaine-poem-681541.html?cat=38
http://ettcweb.lr.k12.nj.us/forms/quinzaine.htm
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/quinzaine.html
http://popularpoetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/12/quinzaine.html
dragon skin marks
tight cage of expectations
finally freed, scarred
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Inspired by Mindlovemisery’s Fairy Tale Prompt #2
(albeit late), which called for a darker twist on a tale with a stepmother.
Banga was looking for a place to hide. The Boggle, Fandang, had surprised him and his baby sister splashing in Trickle Brook. His sister, Ruby, had hid in the lee of a granite boulder. Banga darted below the waves in his fish shape, drawing the Boggle away from his sister, and the much bigger Boggle almost caught him in his fingers, which were like a tangled net.
Banga flipped up onto shore, and then changed in a flash to his elven shape. He ran as fast as he could toward the trees. The Boggle’s hairy feet thumped behind him, accompanied by the bing bang whack of his thick Boggle stick. A nearby sycamore looked young, but maybe old enough to be a bit hollow. Fandang was close behind him, and Banga could smell his hot, sour breath. The sycamore’s camouflage bark might confuse Fandang’s bad Boggle eyesight. Banga swarmed up it.

Sure enough, Banga found a hollow, in the crook of the thickest branch. No leaves had broken from their buds yet to provide cover. He hid in the dark nook, holding his breath. He heard Fandang stomping around in last fall’s leaves. Boggles like to catch Dolphinis, but Banga was practiced at getting away. Dolphinis were the smallest of the Merfolk and the only ones to live in freshwater. Like their larger cousins, the Sea Merfolk, they could grant wished. Boggles always had plenty of wishes, many of which would cause Dophinis no end of trouble granting.
He held his sweet breath, afraid the scent would lead the Boggle straight to him, until Fandang’s last bing bang whack of his Boggle stick faded into the distance. Then Banga zipped back to his baby sister, Ruby, the youngest Dolphini of Trickle Brook, where she was pretending to be a tigerfish, leaping out of the water and eating mosquitoes. They would both be safe another day.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
References: http://www.nycgovparks.org/news/daily-plant?id=19242

By Anja at Oh Pithy Me
As Megan wove sprigs of lilac into Bella’s black hair and then pinned her veil in place, she asked: “Bella, remember the witch and the red string?”
Bella was hooking pearls into her ears, but she stopped for a moment as memory overtook her. Megan and she had been friends their whole lives. One spring day, Megan’s mom had bribed Megan’s big brother, Stefan, to take the girls to the ice cream parlor. They passed the witch’s house on the way.
Peeling paint and rotted gutters had festooned the ancient Victorian behind the low juniper hedge, and all the neighborhood children believed a witch lived there. The three had stopped and looked up, Megan with a delicious shiver. Crows flew out of a nest by the chimney, cawing loudly.
“I dare you to go ring the bell,” Megan liked baiting her older brother, Stefan, to do things that got him in trouble.