Lavender Longing

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lavender longing
thin blue shadows on white snow
remembering bees

Copyright 2017 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading

Pink Kisses

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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

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

Worship

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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

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Ferocious Women

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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

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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