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May 14, 2015

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Spring Rain Crescendo

Raindrops
Rain plops
Plink, plink
Pitter, patter
Crack of thunder
Howling gusts
Shake the windows
Rain drums sideways
Young plants flatten
Trees bend sideways
Dry earth drinks deep
Lemon tulip petals scatter
Blacktop steams and hisses
Pollen washes into soil
Puddles swell to lakes
Wind softens, sighs
Drip, drop, stop
Greens deepen
Flowers glisten
Birds sing
I listen

Note: We are having a dry spring, and we need rain. If we don’t get rain soon, we might be dancing for it like the children in the fairy tale, Rain Dance. This poem is a prayer for rain and a celebration of Poetry Friday, where poetry falls like rain on a dry earth. The host and poetry gathering point this week is Random Noodling. The hostess, Diane, offers a quote by Mark Twain and a poem about sanity. Worth a look! Write a poem for kids or quote one by another, and you can join the fun by visiting and contributing your link. Here is a bonus poem by a favorite author:

April Rain

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.

— Langston Hughes

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

August 11, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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34 Comments

Rainy Renewal

Opposites: rain and sun,
The yin and yang of life.
Clear cooling drops
Cleanse and refresh.
Even as I welcome the rain,
I long for the sun.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

August 6, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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51 Comments

Scent of Morning

rain in the night
moist scent of lilies bathing
cool summer morning

Note: This post is dedicated to Bastet and Blog It, two haiku friends. It was inspired by Jen at Blog It’s Ghost Writer for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, for the scent prompt.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

June 3, 2014

Posted under

Humor, Photography, Poetry

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31 Comments

Fairy Tale Flower

To glow in the cold rain,
When bleak skies are dim,
And never once complain,
You could be written by Grimm.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

May 28, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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27 Comments

Diamond Rain Tanka

clouds crystalize
raindrops dissolve light into
diamond dewdrops

sunshine is a memory
but cleansing tears renew life

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

May 1, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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31 Comments

May Queen

Sad May Queen and her court,
Drenched, washed by rain,
Cold droplets cascade off,
Heavy heads rise when
The torrent ceases, blue sky
Teases, clouds chase the wind.

Then state visits commence,
Foreign dignitaries hasten toward
The still glistening, but elegant
Tulip Magnolia Queen.
Bees kiss her hands, aquiver,
Trembling to touch her perfume.

A sensitive courtier
Drips tears onto the lawn.
Pink petals fall and
Lay like lotus blooms
On a glassy pond, quiet
Except for water dripping.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

April 30, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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42 Comments

Waiting Flowers

On this rainy day,
Cold damp enters the stem,
Stiffening the buds.
Red veins dry to yellow.
Petals close tightly,
Waiting for the sun.
Waiting for the bees.
Waiting for the children.

Continue reading →

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

April 2, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry, Tales for Kids of All Ages

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53 Comments

Dreaming in Cherry Blossoms

Rain patters on the roof,
While the cardinal calls:
“Birdie, birdie, birdie, birdie.”
My eyes drift closed, heavy
With disappointment at the cold,
Wet spring and the absent sun.

Azaleas flame in raspberry bursts.
The weeping cherry cries amber tears
Of swollen pollen from pale pink blossoms,
Sunshine heats the wet sidewalk,
And it breathes steamy sighs.
A mist curls up toward the blossoms.

In my dream, my two arms multiply,
Turning to wings, to feathers, to thin limbs:
To an infant, a new weeping cherry.
My long arms tremble in air currents.
The cardinal lands on my highest shoulder
Calling “Birdie, birdie,” red crest proud.

I hear again the sound of the rain,
My dry roots yearn toward the nectar
Shared by clouds, whispering of oceans.
I awake stretching my legs,
Moving freely, but stiff and cold;
Blossoms, an afterimage, on my closed eyes.

Note: Inspired by Michelle Marie, who was longing to see cherry blossoms.
These photographs are from last spring.