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.
I originally wanted these three photographs to be one visual haiku, in my case meaning a poem in three lines, each photograph to represent a line. However, I found the term already in use, and I decided that each one individually fits the common definition: a photograph that says something more than the contents; it uses two or three elements to suggest more than is present. I hope you enjoy my three visual haiku.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
References:
http://peace.wikia.com/wiki/Visual_Haiku
https://www.lensculture.com/articles/masao-yamamoto-visual-haiku
http://www.digitalphotoacademy.com/DpaObjects/viewTip/4450
http://www.haikupoetshut.com/viskundx.html
http://www.flickr.com/groups/visualhaiku/
To the drooling snow monster,
who swallowed my thoughts of spring whole,
the sun will be coming for you,
in a month or two.
A few budding artists were inspired to draw their own snow monsters:
By M.H., aged 5, via his mom at Complexity through Joy
Coloring Page by Kyle H., aged 9.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Thanks to Janna at Complexity through Joy for the kind permission for use of her snow monster.
The church is near but the road is all ice; the tavern is far but I’ll walk very carefully. Russian Proverb
The church is near but the road is all ice;
the tavern is far but I’ll walk very carefully.
Russian Proverb
Years ago, I was working for a minimal salary. My net pay barely covered the expenses of professional clothing, commuting, food and rent. I worked very hard the first year, trying to be the perfect employee, working quickly, seeking extra work, hoping I would earn a big raise. I slid sideways into debt when my car was totaled in an accident and my cat needed expensive medicine.
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.
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
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.
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/
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
There’s nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.
— Erma Bombeck
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
buds waiting for spring
reluctant leaves enduring
dreaming of summer
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Friendly Fairy Tales 