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February 14, 2016

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Love is a Kite

Love is a kite.
It carries you up
to a terrifying height
until you can see
the future, the past and now.
Love is art.
Only the heart
can hold steady,
ride the wind,
dance aflame and remain the same.

Note: My 6 year old daughter and I spent the afternoon making Valentine art. You see mine above. My hubby asked if I planned to put it on my website, and I said no. He said, you should. So I listened, with my heart, and here it is. I hope it lifts you up, as it did me. Happy Valentine’s Day! Warmly, Brenda

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

February 12, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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28 Comments

Spun Sugar Trees

spun sugar trees
limbs bent to the knees,
white with delight

Notes:

This is a rhyming haiku.
It’s something to do.
Want to try one, too?

Poetry Friday with kids

Happy Valentine’s Day and welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted thanks to Kimberley Moran at Written Reflections.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

February 9, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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35 Comments

Still a Twig

Broken tree bent in half and blocking snowy, forest path

I may be old, bent and broken,
entirely blocking your path,
but inside where it counts,
I’m still a twig, leafy and new.

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 29, 2016

Posted under

Humor, Photography, Poetry

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37 Comments

Tickle Proof Sharks

If I had fins, I could swim
as sharks do, with a ripple
of my muscled back,
eyes open, never sleeping.
I’d never brush my teeth,
I’d grow new ones.
I’d smell my brothers coming
and swim the other way.
Even if they caught up,
my diamond-tooth skin
would be tickle proof.
I wouldn’t have to walk
down dark hallways,
my way would be lit
by phosphorescent fish.
I’d never have to sleep
alone in my room
with only a bear.
I’d stay on the move,
snacking between meals
whenever I choose.
Mom busses my cheek
and tucks me in.
My mouth tastes minty.
Bing-Bong, my bear,
fits into my elbow,
just right.
Sharks can’t dream
if they never sleep.
I wonder what
I’ll dream tonight.
I’ll be a shark in the sea!
I’m glad I’m me.

Note: For all the people who long to be sharks, may you swim in dreamland tonight. This poem is also for the kids’ literature folks at Poetry Friday. Thanks to this week’s host, Catherine, a talented teacher and poet, at Reading to the Core. Michelle Heidenrich Barnes at Today’s Little Ditty published a wonderful collection of poetry about nothing, and she even included a poem of mine that doesn’t appear on this website. If you want to submit your poem about nothing, you can visit her site for details. She enters all participants and commenters to win an autographed book, too!

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Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 25, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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29 Comments

Holly Flower

Six holly leaves surrounding a pink stem

Petals fall away,
leaving the leaves
to spiral inward
like a rose in
full bloom,
laced with thorns but
with a stem too woody
for easy conquest.
The strawberry center
remembers the tease of bees.
The rain drains away,
leaving a few drops to
glisten like diamonds.
Whoever says winter
has no flowers
hasn’t seen the holly
as I have.

Note: I snapped this photo a few weeks ago before the first snow. I can’t help looking for flowers even in winter. Holly has been incorporated into many belief systems over the centuries. People planted holly as protection against thunder or to ward off witchcraft. The holly flowers in spring, and its four tiny petals form a cross, making it a common symbol for Christianity. It also represents the waning light of the year from Midsummer to Midwinter in the Celtic faith. May it help your imagination flower.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 24, 2016

Posted under

Humor, Photography, Poetry

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34 Comments

Juniper Jewels

Blue Juniper berries

Jewel-bright juniper berries
dangled like azure fairies
amidst needles unfurled,
seeking the eyes of every bird.
Berries stayed sugar sweet
until fermenting was complete.
Early spring, greedy bluejays
fell down tipsy over two days,
leaving feathers ruffled aft.
How the crows laughed.

Note: Some birds actually eat too many fermented berries and behave badly. Once I discovered that, I just had to write a poem about it. I also ran across a hilarious video of African animals overindulging on Marula fruit. A more serious poem about juniper berries is here. Have a great week!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 19, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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25 Comments

Tree Song

Two Tree limbs reaching into the sky like arms

Even in winter,
with nary a leaf,
trees hold up the sky,
cut the wind and
frame the stars.
Tall maples sing our future,
lament our past.
First, morning pianissimo
swells to workday allegro
but quickens to andantino
after a tangerine sunset.
A mad tarantella makes
Saturdays ache with dance.
Stormy days, we hear brass
crescendo of crashing branches.
Trees measure our lives.
Each season has its movement,
winter’s pianissimo alternating
with icy crescendo:
concertos made from time,
measured into beauty,
the melody our breath,
the bass our heartbeat.
Woodwind chords are
refined by strings.
In the tree song,
we find time
and healing.

Note: I hope you are hearing music. Have a great week!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 16, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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45 Comments

Dryad’s Eye

Thick oak in winter, trees brown and curled, with power lines running alongside, and the twisted trunk makes an eye

Sky gray as grave wrappings,
day dawns with the sullens.
Sodden leaf mold mingles
with the scent of coming snow.
Silent crows are drenched and dismal,
staring into the storm’s eye.
Oak leaves, brown and wilted,
make a damp chatter, as if they gossip.
Even the dryad shivers,
lissome and fair but cold in there.
She turns a shoulder to the icy wind
and hoodwinks the honest earth
into seeing a magic eye appear
gathering the light, shedding no tear.
The luminous gaze falls on the smallest
child, hopeful of seeing the first
snowflake spiral like a fallen star.
No frown can stay down in
the presence of wonder and hope.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: A dryad is a nymph or goddess of a tree, often an oak. I make reference to a Sylvia Plath poem, On the Difficulty of Conjuring Up a Dryad, in which conjuring, Plath fails. Her “tree stays tree” no matter how she wrenches “obstinate bark and trunk/ To [her] sweet will”. Is she disappointed or triumphant when “no luminous shape/ Steps out radiant in limb, eye, lip,/ To hoodwink the honest earth which pointblank/ Spurns such fiction/ As nymphs”? She then observes that her cold vision “will have no counterfeit/ Palmed off on it.” My imagination is of a different sort than hers today. Where my eye scans, I see magic. May you have a magical day.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 13, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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44 Comments

Connection

Connection,
reconnection,
lines entwined, aligned.
Squirrels use superhighways, and
information zips sideways.
Talk is the tendency when
winter’s in ascendancy.
Messages zing with arctic air.
Yet, summer’s there
in buds drowsing,
a promise of carousing
when summer’s scent
will rise from each branch, bent
from the memory of
winter’s icy love.
Seasons circle and dance,
hypnotic with romance.

Note: Are you finding the magic in the season? It’s harder in the winter doldrums, but keep your spirits up, the days are getting longer already! Cast your eyes on a Scottish stone circle formed from the earth’s oldest rock, and you’ll see winter romance, indeed, thanks to Seonaid at breathofgreenair.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 8, 2016

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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59 Comments

Gray Magic

Stone Wall with phlox overhanging

Tinge of gray
on evergreen,
sparkly spray,
icy and clean,
fairy frost,
silver dance.
Summer’s lost
in hoary trance.
Winter sleep
casts its spell.
Blankets deep,
warm us well.

Notes:

Cold has tinged New England with silver. It’s the time of year to burrow under blankets or duvet. I hope you’re warm and cozy. My favorite thing to do this time of year is sleep late. What’s yours?

Happy Poetry Friday to all kid litters! Thanks to Tabatha Yeatts for hosting this week at the Opposite of Indifference. Thanks for reminding us that the “opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference.” ~ Elie Wiesel

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 21, 2015

Posted under

Holiday, Photography, Poetry

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61 Comments

Note: I wish you all that’s happy, whatever you do or don’t celebrate. We are all brothers and sisters in the mystery of life, all stardust in the universe, all hungry for love and joy. I’ll be taking some time with my family the next few weeks. A million warm holiday hugs!!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 19, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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18 Comments

Fish Grin

Blue fish grins.
His scales gleam with
labyrinthine markings.
Perhaps lady fish
get lost, tracing their
path through the bends.
His charm bewilders
and intrigues, and we stare
at each other through
the ocean tank glass.
Close, but not connecting.
Near, but breathing
different elements.
Each puzzled by the other.
His liquid gaze and citrine eye
as mysterious and fleeting
as a golden leaf on a tree.
What does the leaf remember,
hanging there for one last day?
What does the fish see?
A swish of his tail and
he’s gone. A cypher,
a code of the universe,
a mystery to contemplate.

Note: I’m surrounded by swirls of wrapping paper, twinkling lights and the smell of brownies. I’m planning to make brownie Christmas tree cookies. If they turn out well, I’ll put up a picture. And my husband just bought girl scout cookies. I hope you’re having a wonderful weekend!