Lavender Longing

img_5715

lavender longing
thin blue shadows on white snow
remembering bees

Copyright 2017 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading →

Pink Kisses

img_5669

Used by Permission of Resa Swork

hot pink kisses
satin rose petals scattered
scent of carnations Continue reading →

Red Tether

red heart wreaths

Your absence is a
red tether Continue reading →

Thief of Dreams

Gate shadows on snow

Thief of dreams,
rambler in blizzard white,
shadow on virgin snow,

Old Man Winter,
tell a tale this cold night
before you go. Continue reading →

Who am I?

Broken shell in the sand

Some days, I am round
like the sun,
but my ancient face
is shadowy. Continue reading →

Nye for Love

IMG_4312

Children of the World,
who breathe perfumed air in
rose gardens, spice-filled kitchens,
orange groves and city streets… Continue reading →

Worship

img_4654

We bring flowers when we
love and worship
not threats and illegal detentions. Continue reading →

Poetry Postcards

Have you ever sent someone a poetry postcard? I sent five this year (first time ever) and here the ones I got in return (Yay!):

Thanks Margaret Simon for the beautiful zebras and good advice:

Thoughtful promise:
Savor every life moment
adventurously

img_5670 Continue reading →

Ferocious Women

img_5165

Ferocious Women
who never bring you coffee
dream in poetry Continue reading →

Like a Fist

 

Sunset on a lake with a twisted tree

At times sunset
comes down
like a fist,
clenched with
unsaid words,
storms forecast,
and even the color pink
becomes a
menace
of feminine power. Continue reading →

America the Beautiful

 

January 21 2017 Boston Women's March at Boston Common

Shoulder to shoulder
with people determined
to be heard,
holding up signs
in weary arms,
speaking in twitter-like tweets
to a man who cannot
turn his back
and ignore millions
around the country
and around the world. Continue reading →

January Misgivings

img_5560

In honor of Donald Trump’s Inauguration Day, I find myself speechless, but I am resonating with:

Herman Melville’s Misgivings

When ocean-clouds over inland hills
Sweep storming in late autumn brown,
And horror the sodden valley fills,
And the spire falls crashing in the town,
I muse upon my country’s ills—
The tempest bursting from the waste of Time
On the world’s fairest hope linked with man’s foulest crime. Continue reading →