Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 28, 2015

Posted under

Humor, Photography, Poetry

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53 Comments

Now You See It, Now You Don’t

Here is the bench before the Nor’easter,

And where is the bench now?

Now you see it, now you don’t!
Mother Nature’s sleight of hand
Is more magical than any of man.
What could be hiding under there?
Perhaps a family of icy hedgehogs
And a passing brownie sipping chai.
Under the bench, they stop to say Hi,
Peeking out at other passers-by.

Note: New England was blessed with over two feet of snow in 24 hours and two snow days! We shoveled four times. We went sledding twice. We had one epic snowball battle. We drank hot chocolate with friends. We had a weekend in the middle of the week! Stay warm! 🙂 School is on again tomorrow.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 27, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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43 Comments

Bow to the Snow Queen

The tree’s snow cloak drags the ground
Until the snow falls, wind-downed.
Released branch springs up with a shiver,
Like a dog, with a shake and quiver,
Rising from its long, low bend,
To the Snow Queen, its lady friend.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 25, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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65 Comments

Stomping, Tromping

Snow in the air,
Snow on the ground,
More in my hair,
Falls all around!

Snowballs packed tight,
Kids laughing and hiding,
Forts left, ice castles right
Tiny tots slipping and sliding.

Tongue sticks out far,
Nothing hits it, no fair!
A snowflake, like a star,
Lands coldly right there.

Ah, how we love the snow,
Sledding, flopping, tromping,
Love when the drifts flow,
Plowing, tunneling, stomping.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 15, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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52 Comments

Snow Day Wanted

One of the very best reasons for having children
Is to be reminded of the incomparable joys of a snow day.

— Susan Orlean

Cold, gray day with
Snow on the way.
Tiny flakes fall,
Hardly any at all.
Just a tease,
Tickling trees.
Children haunted:
Snow day wanted.

Notes: I read this to my son. He sadly shook his head and said: “I don’t think we’re going to get a snow day this year.” Poor guy, we’ve had almost no snow. No sledding, no snow shoeing and no snowmen! On a more prosaic note, I have just spent days updating all my contents pages, poetry, flash fiction, haiku and haibun. I’m still emotional thinking of the many outrageously wonderful compliments left, which make me blush to read the reviews on the contents pages. You might see yourself quoted there. 😉 Thank you all for reading and commenting. I know how busy you are, and I am deeply moved and appreciative!! You’ve restored my ego to almost life-sized just in time for attending a writer’s conference in NYC! I’ll be preparing for that in the next few weeks. Remember the magic! Warmly, Brenda

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

January 12, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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63 Comments

Snow Queen Haibun

I walk through my own personal cloud of crystalline breath. The nighttime is silent but for the thuds of snow falling from branches. The modern world disappears, and even the family van is a slumbering dragon. I pace the silent woods, twilight falling to full dark quickly.

ice chokes the pond
water reflects the dark sky
even my breath stills

I return to a long-ago winter. Lacy snowflakes fall all night. School is cancelled. Frost stars seal the window glass. I don three layers of clothes before pushing through drifts over my head. I forge new pathways. I enter an icy, secret world with caves, trolls, mountains and a snow queen.

hiding from monsters
across alien frozen worlds
in the quiet, is me

Note: This is a haibun, a Japanese form of writing, alternating prose and poetry, in this case, haiku. It has many rules. It should be present tense. The haiku should be without punctuation, except where a stop is indicated by a comma. Basho made this form famous.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 12, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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31 Comments

Winter Wonderland

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream-
Lingering in the golden gleam-
Life, what is it but a dream?

— Lewis Carroll

Alice frosts pink fairy cakes
And carries them on amber platters
To the party in the tippy-top of yews.
Icing sparkles with snowflakes:
Tea party treats for mad hatters.
Alice pours tea and lets guests choose.
The Red Queen chases drakes.
Feathers fall amid snowy spatters.
The Cheshire Cat grins and chews.
White Rabbit calls “Land sakes!”
The March Hare nods and natters.
Not a few party guests snooze.

Note: In addition to getting the holidays in hand, I have a new project. I am now offering Fine Nature Art prints for sale on Society 6. Your purchase would help support Friendly Fairy Tales.

Have a magical weekend!

Warmly, Brenda

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 10, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

Comments

34 Comments

Evergreen

If you get simple beauty and naught else,
You get about the best thing God invents.

— Robert Browning

The
Opposite
Of greening
Must be browning.
Cold settles into fibers
And olive-brown blooms,
Likewise the heart slows,
Older passions fail to flow.
Snow settles on fading green,
Leaves sagging with resignation.
Even the pungent sage withers.
Yet, the possibility of vitality
Withdraws into the roots,
Lingers to bloom again.
But not love – love is
Evergreen.

Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.

— Robert Browning, Sage and Poet

Note: This poem is a concrete poem, about leaves, in the shape of a leaf.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

March 24, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

Comments

36 Comments

Winter Red Ditty

Patches of snow gleam in drifts,
Branches entwine in red towers,
High rises for fairies on shifts,
Thicket bark lovelier than flowers.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

February 7, 2014

Posted under

Humor, Photography

Comments

27 Comments

I’ve got my Eye on You

Anybody seen my other eye?

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

February 3, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

Comments

34 Comments

Weather Witch

Tempers ran high when the snow started to fall.
Frog would not come out of his palace at all.
Orla Fairy drank cup after cup of tea.
Jake the Forest Snip, belligerent was he.

Down the slippery village road he stalked.
Approaching all the closed doors: Bang! bang! he knocked.
A Siberian tiger paced and snarled,
Snow piled onto his fur, nails old and gnarled.

Forest Snip banged on the Weather Witch’s door,
Calling out, “What are you thinking, you great bore!”
“You tell her,” said the old tiger with a grin.
“Stop your banging!” came a shrill voice from within.

Out with demands came a magnificent mouse:
“Stop making a racket in front of my house!”
“We all talked and decided, it would be spring!”
Jake the Forest Snip’s words had a rousing ring.

Fairy Orla put down her tea, now resigned.
Outside, she said: “Mags, an accord was designed.”
“Don’t you dare call me Mags,” the Weather Witch grumped.
“But why did you change your mind? We are all stumped,”

Fairy Orla inquired. “Dear, we all see snow.”
“Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, you know!
How can I ignore that?” asked the Weather Witch.
The tiger’s black and white striped fur gave a twitch.

He growled: “Don’t tell me we have to wait six weeks!”
Fairy Orla sadly brushed snow from her cheeks.
“All this cold for a Pennsylvania rodent?”
Fairy Orla snapped, ending quite despondent.

The witch scratched her mouse whiskers with tiny nails.
“There might be a way, but if done wrong it fails.
Gather some helleborus, ginger root, moss,
Shrew coat clippings, raven feathers, grassy floss,”

The Witch listed, hugging her pink coat tightly.
“Gather all that, my friends, gather it sprightly.
A brew will I prepare that will end this storm,”
Gravely she spoke, looking at snowflakes, forlorn.

All but the ginger root came quickly to hand.
Not one could be found on fairy village land.
They bartered for roots with five passing tinkers,
But Forest Snip lost them dicing with drinkers.

Now all were snarling at Jake the Forest Snip.
He left to go south on an extended trip.
More and more snowflakes drifted quietly down.
“Each thing has its time,” quoth the mouse with a frown.