Beauty in the Broken Places

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Leonard Cohen, Anthem
Read remaining lyrics here.

IMG_3879

The broken parts have the deepest beauty.
A road is just a road until you stop and see a turtle hiding.
The crack in perfection is where new life takes root.
Magic is in how you look at things.

IMG_9195

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Big Boots, Little Boots

IMG_3125

my daughter’s boots
snugged beside her daddy’s,
new footsteps following

Note: Inspired by the Weekly Photo Challenge: Juxtaposition by the Daily Post.

White Witch in Winter

Winter Berries

Conjure me a warm day;
Bend holly into a wreath.
Leave trinkets where they lay,
Intertwine grasses from the heath.

Weave in some dried lavender,
Intersperse some winter berries,
Neglect not magical provender,
Add a curl of thyme for the fairies.

In the gloaming, carry it nigh.
“With some warmth, you’ll be blessed,”
Spake the White Witch’s soft sigh.
“I take with joy these things for my nest.”

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Notes: Inspired by the Sunday Whirl, Wordle 144.

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

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.

Making Spirits Bright

IMG_1890

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 

 

‘Tis the Season Haībun

There’s nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.
— Erma Bombeck

IMG_2419

When I was a child, I hated suspense, and all my energy went into solving mysteries quickly. I generally figured out who did what where in the game Clue, where the flag was in Stratego and what I was getting for Christmas. Continue reading

Dark Spaces Haiku

Snow on Branches

golden sunshine glows

fae hide in the dark spaces

writing to Santa

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Sonnet to a Cabbage

Cabbage in Snow

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. 

Tree of Life Haībun

Used with permission of Managua Gunn

Used with permission of Managua Gunn

I dream here in this place of ancient magic, listening to the humming telephone wires. Oil wells beat like a thousand hearts. My roots stretch beneath the hill, into the frozen past. The dry desert sands cannot warm the hidden place where the Garden of Eden still flourishes, hidden from man these many thousand years. I was blown to this hill as a seed, more than 400 years ago.

mother lost in time
father wind threw me from her
alone in this place

A child fell, cutting his knee on a pottery shard. His blood watered the sand, pushing me into the soil. In his brief pain, he called to Enki, the Water God, who granted a year of beating rain. Was I blessed by Enki to outlive my kin or cursed to burn in the sun, gaped at by tourists?

Shajarat-al-Hayat
symbol of forgotten time
outliving all loves

 Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Inspired by the weekly Haībun challenge.
References:
http://www.worldtoptop.com/mysterious-tree-of-life-bahrain/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tree_of_Life,_Bahrain
http://www.bahrain.com/en/vp/things-to-do/top-ten-sights/Pages/Tree-of-Life.aspx#.UqvbGyihDzI

New Day Haiku

IMG_1943

fresh new snow falling
path through a magic portal
leave the past behind

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Hidden Dwarf Haiku

IMG_1847

magical dwarf hides

white duvet cannot warm him

cold makes stone from bone

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham