All we left unsaid . . .

 

 

Two senryu and one haiga are in the July issue of Failed Haiku.

 

 

Failed ​Haiku, A Journal of English Senryu

Volume 4, Issue 43

July 2019

 

 

 

 

abandoned nest

four blue eggs

but no answers

 

~

 

vagrant fog

     a distant train

            slows the night   

 

 

 

 

~

 

Catching up!

Over the past few months, a lot of my work has been published, but I’ve been negligent in getting them posted. Breaking from my usual tradition of a separate post for each journal, I’m going to post all of them here in a single posting. Separate poems and journals are both divided by  ***.

 

 

Redlights, Volume 15, No. 2, June 2019

.

a day will come

when we are the faces

in old picture albums

and no one left

to give us names

***

 

babcia’s borscht recipe

in faded black ink—

can you smell the beets

bubble and hear her

hum along

 

 

Ribbons Spring/Summer 2019: Volume 15, No. 2

.

 

PET scan . . .

all the dogs & cats

I ever knew & loved

romp in the tunnel

where I lie in stillness

***

 

Ribbons Spring/Summer 2019: Volume 15, No. 2

Tanka Café:  Theme: What Matters [to You]

 

they say time

moves faster as we age

yet here I am

stealing an hour

to listen to the birds

 ***

 

cattails: The Official Journal of the United Haiku and Tanka Society, April 2019 Issue

.

 

late winter

the garden’s breath

shifts once more

 

*** 

 

one crow

and a clutch of chickadees

at the birdfeeder —

that simple need

to fit in someplace

       

 

***

 

 

Frogpond 42.2 * 2019

.

graveside—

white blossoms

lighten the darkness

 

 

*** 

 

 

Blithe Spirit 29.2, 2019

.

 

evening meditation

fireflies flit here

& there

                           & there

 

***

.

sacred sites

finding myself praying

in another language

.

***

.

the soft rustle

of quivering aspen leaves

over and over

I replay the words

I might have said

.

***

.

a feeling of you

standing behind me …

when I turn around,

only shadow

only silence

.

 

*** 

 

 

.

Moonbathing 20 Spring/Summer 2019

.

 

sea glass

    a distant story

        told in waves

            I long

                to read

 

.

*** 

.

The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXI, Number 2: June 2019

.

 

a single brass button—

I try to remember

his voice

*** 

.

Eucalypt  Issue 26,  2019

.

 

without warning

a leaf rises in the wind

then tumbles—

our need for forgiveness

so unexpected, too

.

(Eucalypt, The Distinctive Scribblings Awards)

http://eucalypt.info/E-awards.html?fbclid=IwAR2TIZkoI7env3GUJGjZftPzY1FSJbEBKzn5UTsZ7nmXxncO_NpCwyEzE_A

 

 

*** 

.

Gusts, Contemporary Tanka  No. 29, Spring/Summer 2019

 

.

 

faint notes

of a harpsichord

playing Bach –

why is it you always wait

for one wrong note

 

 ***

 

you pour a second cup

of pale moon tea

in a teashop in Prague

. . . I wonder what story

the leaves might tell

 

 

***

 

walking alone

past the tide’s own

push and pull –

I turn to see my footprints

wash away

 

 

*** 

 

 

Kokako 30, 2019

 

.

 

abbey ruins

voices of evensong

     nowhere                 everywhere

 

***

 

 

old burying ground

so many grave markers

buried too

 

***

 

 

in the coffee shop

a glimpse of someone

who looks just like you—

I quickly check my face

in a mirror

 

***

 

 

dark storm clouds

dissolve in sunlight

and shift again—

your changing moods

just as quick

***

 

 

Five years . . . and counting

.

Dear Readers:

.

I have been blogging on A Poet in Time for five years this month. I began in 2014, and five years have flown by. While my original concept was to complete and post a poem weekly, I veered off into the magical word of Japanese short form poetry in English. For the past few years, this blog has really become a way to share haiku, senryu and tanka that I have published. At the top of the menu, I’ve separated published poems by years. For those who only know my tanka or haiku, I invite you to go back to 2014-5 and explore my longer poetry.

.

I haven’t decided how much longer I will keep this blog. I have a lot of subscribers, but not many comments are left, so there is no way to know if anyone is reading things that are posted. Time will tell. I always welcome comments and observations from poets and non-poets alike. 

.

For those who are subscribed and who read this blog, my deepest thanks go to each of you. It means a great deal to have readers who return again and again.

.

Wishing you all a beautiful day. May peace and kindness rule over this world.

.

Mary

July 2019

.

 

Haiku Holiday turns 40

 

The North Carolina Haiku Society hosts an all-day meeting on the last Saturday of each April. This year marked the 40th year of these days called “Haiku Holiday.” Each of the past 40 years has been hosted by one wonderful poet and woman, Jean Earnhardt

on Bolin Brook Farm, an old farmstead that has been in her family for 12 generations. Can you imagine opening up your home and garden annually to a large group of poets? Jean does so graciously and with a welcoming, inclusive attitude. Thank you, Jean!

 

“In honor of the 40th anniversary of Haiku Holiday, we read 40 haiku by current and past members of the North Carolina Haiku Society. Crystal Simone-Smith selected the poems and published them as a broadside.”  (Dave Russo, the NCHS website Editor)

 

The Broadside is so beautiful, and it’s an honor to be part of this. My two haiku are listed below. My thanks to Crystal for selecting this to be included.

 

Haiku Holiday, NCHS, 2019

40 Years, 40 Haiku: A Broadside

 

 

dandelion—

more and more invisible

as I grow old

 

 

our country’s story

ever evolving

. . . fallen blossoms

 

 

Both haiku by Mary Kendall (c) 2019

 

War memorial (a haiku)

As Memorial Day approaches, thoughts of all who have sacrificed for our country come to mind. There have been so many wars, so many skirmishes, so many of our service people posted to regions far away from their homeland. The work they do in times of war or in conflict is something that requires a level of courage I don’t have. Yet we can all pay them our deepest respects and honor those who have died as well as those who came home. They have made this country what it is.

 

This haiku was published in Frogpond 42.1, Winter 2019 (Haiku Society of North America)

 

 

war memorial

blue dragonflies

loop in tandem

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Starlight on winter branches

 

 

Two haiku and one tanka in Blithe Spirit 29.1, 2019

 

      *

 

ground fog
even birdsong
is invisible

 

*

 

wood’s edge –
that inescapable pull
of darkness

          *

 

starlight on
winter branches—
those nagging thoughts
that seem to come
from nowhere

 

 

All poems by Mary Kendall