The rhododendron doesn’t bloom
like the cherry, in wispy pink petals
that fall like snow in the first wind,
no, the rhododendron blooms
like a queen, standing her ground,
petals unmoved by rain and wind, Continue reading
May Queen
Tag Archives: Rose
Climbing with Elegance
she rose above
her naysayers and nodded yes,
you can do it, too
Copyright 2018 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Winter Color
The colors of life,
of all things growing,
form a complex rainbow
in any season.
They linger as autumn
slips seamlessly into winter. Continue reading
Fae Rose Fairy
With treacle, a radish and bee’s knees,
Fae Rose grew apricot roses with ease.
She turned away blight,
With joy and delight,
And her ladybugs gave aphids a squeeze.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This poem is a limerick, rhyming AABBA.
Rose Petal Path
Another might have taken the path less traveled,
I walked the path strewn with rose petals.
Perhaps the roses faded, and the petals blew away,
But each step crushed the scent into my fiber.
That day has made all the difference to my life.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
References: The path referenced in the first line is from a famous poem I will reprint here, courtesy of The Poetry Foundation, with my own yellow wood.
Note: The poem is dedicated to my hubby, a fine man in every way. I’m also posting it in honor of my hubby’s friend who is marrying tomorrow.
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Bloom of Life Haibun
At the suggestion of my friend Jules Paige, I am dipping a toe in the still waters of the haibun, an art form embodied by prose followed by a haiku. The prompt is by Ligo Haibun, and with a choice of two pictures, I chose call2read‘s, and here goes:
Bloom of Life
And so my life unfolded, petal by petal, each memory as silky as a dewy rose petal brushed against my cheek. Shivers of dreams, slivers of thorns, sparkle of moon and stars. As a child, just a bud protected by my thick green casing, I did not always understand adult things. I dreamt of traveling the world, finding friends, eating new foods, learning every day new things. Slowly, my green shield loosened and opened. The days seemed infinite, opening petal by petal. I traveled, I made friends, and I learned every day. Now the rose of my life is fully open to the sun, and summer’s heat has made my soul expand in all directions, drinking in light, energy and warmth from friends, places and memories.
Spark of life sustains,
Creativity expands
Peace, love, joy with friends.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Rose Fairy finds a Family
Each fairy breath of summer,
as it blows with loveliness,
inspires the blushing rose.
— Unknown
On the day Rose Fairy was born, a young family picnicked in the sunshine. Their chubby firstborn, Barnabus, wore a solemn smile and chewed on his fist. Then his father slipped on the stony ground, and fell smack, bang, boom on the ground with an “Ooof!” that could be heard for miles.
Barnabus’s mom cried out, “Charles, dear, are you okay? Is anything hurt?”
“My pride!” Barnabus’s dad answered with a hand rubbing his bottom, where he landed on the rocks, and straightening his glasses.
Barnabus removed his fist from his mouth, and drew in a deep breath.
Friendly Fairy Tales 