A look that never goes out of style: the classic sunset.
Each tree takes her time dressing,
Wrapping herself in an ermine stole for a winter fete,
Mother Nature extends each a blessing.
Tag Archives: friendly fairy tale
Grasses Sing Haiku
snowflakes fly sideways
grasses sing in the fierce wind
nature bows to storm
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Embracing the classical beginnings of haiku, as this author understands them, and as described in the post: Carpe Diem Goes Back to Its Roots #4 by Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. I cannot hope to explain haiku better, so I just link in zen appreciation. Peace and Joy!
The Dragon and the Phoenix
Yangshao never knew what woke him from his thousand year sleep under the frozen taiga. His muscular, golden legs and long limber back snapped and creaked. His lungs filled with crisp, clean air, as he emerged from deep under the ice. Brilliant lights at the far horizon drew his sharp dragon eyes south. The night sky filled with swirling reds, yellows and oranges, and these colors reminded him of his best friend, Xin-Yin, the Phoenix. Brilliant blue star shapes expanded, filling the sky as the other colors faded.
Yangshao’s back rippled side to side like a snake as he flew up and over the larch and birch forest, his vertebrae cracking like saplings in an ice storm. His golden claws clenched and released, easing their stiffness, then reached up to itch between his horns. His whiskers trembled in the cold wind, and he started to feel alive, his senses filling with the forest fragrance. He brushed the tips of snow-laden spruce trees for the joy the showering powder gave him. He felt his magic renewed from his long years of slumber.
His senses expanded over the lands searching for Xin-Yin. Where was she? Continue reading
Back to the Beginning Haībun
Picture used by kind permission of Ines Williamson
In the yellow light of a new night, the cobblestones echo my thoughts back to me. “Why are you here?” Here is where I started, in a small apartment past that iron gate. The first sunshine I ever remember seeing flooded into my tiny room there on the third floor.
My friends and I played stickball and tackle-tommy in the Magic Between. That special time between school and dinner is what I miss most, that magical time when parents were busy and kids could play. I remember the Between as one big blur, like an endless summer day: my homerun, Jack’s skinned knee and when Bats broke his arm swinging over the fence instead of walking through like everyone else.
I rang in the New Year with my folks in their new place across town, but this golden gateway is where the little-me, my memory, still lives. I remember when Stefan’s snake escaped, and Mrs. Nolan came screaming down her stairs, after finding it curled under her stove.
Is home on these cobbles? Or in the window glass I looked through on a night like tonight? My sister and I wished on a star. Wishes are secret, but mine was to fly in an airplane one day, to be inside one leaving a contrail wide enough to be seen all over the city, knowing people were looking up at the roar I made. Then my sister and I realized the only star in the sky was moving, not a star at all, probably an airplane. Do wishes made on planes come true? This one did.
I came back to my hometown on an airplane, home to see my folks, so happy in their new apartment, all their things reduced and rearranged. My sister is busy with her three kids and their teenage angst, but she came to see me and our parents. I don’t think she really saw me. We barely spoke. I couldn’t think what to say to her. I wonder what her wish was, all those years ago. I know better than to ask. Now a new airplane will take me home to Boston, my other home.
home is in my heart
not here on this cobbled street
but I hear its echo
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Inspired by the first Līgo Haībun Challenge of 2014, part of a picture prompt from Ese at Ese’s Voice.
Red Pajamas Shadorma
Little leaves
Buried in the snow,
Peeking out
Like children,
Dressed in their red pajamas,
Throwing off covers.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This poem is called a Shadorma, which is a rhythmic six-line poetry form, each line having specific syllable counts of 3, 5, 3, 3, 7 and 5. It may be modern; it may be a revived older poetry form. Some attribute it to Spain, although to me it sounds Indian, for no other reason than it rhymes with Lamb Korma. No authority I found gave it a definitive origin, and I offer it to you as a beautiful form, allowing a licentious 26 syllables instead of the austere 17 permitted by haiku. It’s a heady freedom!
References:
http://risinghawkspeaks.wordpress.com/2013/12/22/noreaster/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadorma
http://www.poetrypages.com/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?t=16872
http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poets/shadorma-a-highly-addictive-poetic-form-from-spain
http://popularpoetryforms.blogspot.com/2013/01/shadorma.html
http://caraholman.wordpress.com/tag/shadorma-poetry/
Winter’s Jewels Haiku
golden pine droplets
fairy cobblers harvest
resin slippers shine
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Cabbage-Iris Haiku
summer blooms faded
vivid winter iris glows
some consolation
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Making Spirits Bright
I hope you are all warm, safe and surrounded by love and magic this holiday season! May all the snow that falls be light, fluffy and shining like diamonds. May your dreams shine like the stars, and your dearest wishes come true. Joy to the World!! Merry Christmas!!
Warmly, Brenda
Midwinter Song
Seasons Intersect Haiku
buds waiting for spring
reluctant leaves enduring
dreaming of summer
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Dark Spaces Haiku
golden sunshine glows
fae hide in the dark spaces
writing to Santa
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Sonnet to a Cabbage
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s bloom?
Thou art more hardy and vivid in snow.
Over charming cabbages, dark clouds loom,
Soft fall winter’s tears on curled leaf below.
Coldest days, the white sky fills with snowflakes
Their white color enhances your bolder.
The distant sun peeks, an opening makes,
Crystal sparkles enchant the beholder.
And yet, the blindness reminds of regrets,
Summer sprite and fae gardens are no more.
Gnomes and dwarves hibernate in cabbage beds,
Violet leaf consoles as we adore.
Even when we wearily shovel snow,
We are buoyed by your vibrant purple glow.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Inspired by Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 (one of my favorites), after learning one of my readers had not read Shakespeare.
Friendly Fairy Tales 