A tiny fawn, dead… (Ukraine tanka)

Published in Kokaku, Summer/Fall 2022

~

a tiny fawn dead
by the side of the road –
I close my eyes & imagine
all those children lost
in Ukraine strikes

~

candlelight-gc591e5c78_1280

Image by meineresterampe from Pixabay

We turn away…(tanka)

 

This tanka was published in Hedgerow, a journal of small poems ~ #130, Winter 2020

 

 

we turn away

from all we just can’t face—

the glistening red

of a vulture’s head

emerges from a carcass

 

 

 

Poet’s note:

Out of decay comes art and beauty. Look what artist Georgia O’Keefe created from a skull found where she lived in New Mexico. All is part of nature and is nature.

 

Deer’s Skull with Pedernal by Georgia O’Keefe (c) 1936

 

Where I live in central North Carolina, we have plenty of black vultures and turkey vultures. They circle and gather in the sky when there is carrion to be had. I chose this topic for the tanka because it’s a scene I’ve seen more than once. Yes, it’s not a pretty sight. Vultures, especially when eating a dead animal or gathering in a group in a tree or abandoned house do give you shivers. Something in us seems to respond with at least a momentary revulsion. However, I’m a bird lover and I try to see how a specific species fits into the scheme of things. Vultures and crows do eat carrion, the flesh of dead animals, often of roadkill along our roads and streets. They perform a good service by eating their meal and cleaning the mess up. Imagine all those dead animals left to rot. So these birds help us as they go about their business (albeit unpleasant business to us). They are birds we should appreciate for their useful role in nature. They also offer us a wonderful metaphor.

My thanks to editor, Caroline Skanne for being the one editor who chose to publish this poem. 

The old dog . . . (tanka)

 

 

Tanka Society of America 2018 Members’ Anthology:
Of Love and War and the Life In Between

 

 

almost toothless

the old dog sleeps

by the fire . . .

the peace of knowing

you are there

 

 

 

This poem is dedicated to all beloved, faithful dogs for the  pure joy they bring.

 

 

Black swan . . . (haiku)

 

cattails, October 2018 Issue

The Official Journal of the United Haiku and Tanka Society

 

 

 

black swan    

the beauty

in difference

 

 

 

 

 

Screen Shot 2018-10-15 at 4.48.54 PM

Credit:Bournemouth News / Rex Features

 

 

 

I urge all of you to read the full issue of cattails, which you can download as a pdf here:  http://cattailsjournal.com/currentissue.html

 

With breath so soft . . . (tanka)

 

Redlights, June 2018:

 

a newborn fawn
hidden in tall grasses,
with breath so soft
not even a dandelion
stirs

 

Fawn by Carmen Sterba Russell

Photograph by Carmen Sterba Russell (used with her permission) (c) 2018

Poem: On Viewing a Skull Painting by Georgia O’Keefe

I love Georgia O’Keefe’s quirky paintings and perspective.  She did a lot of work using skulls, which seems quite natural. New Mexico must yield all sorts of bones in the mountains and deserts. Just as she studied and painted flowers, so she did the same with animal bones and skulls. She was very prolific in her work, painting a skull or pelvis in many views, often accompanied by a flower or other desert item. Many didn’t like her bone paintings, but that didn’t deter her in the slightest. Even her husband, photographer Alfred Stieglitz, was initially critical of them. He later relented, as did most critics. To find beauty in death and decomposition and to create art that is somehow mesmerizing and thoughtful is quite an accomplishment.

This poem is from my chapbook (Erasing the Doubt (c) 2015, Finishing Line Press). It is hidden amongst just a few of these wonderful paintings.

okeefe and skull

Georgia O’Keefe and cow skull

 

 

bob-steer-head.jpg!Large

Bob’s Steer Head by Georgia O’Keefe (c) 1936

Cow's Skull with Roses

Cow’s Skull with Calico Roses by Georgia O’Keefe (c) 1931

 

 

 

On Viewing a Skull Painting by Georgia O’Keeffe

 

  1. The Artist’s View of the Skull as Form

 

The sinuous curve
hollowed circle
smooth chalky bone
worn smooth, it goes
beyond the form
behind the slow dip
of the arching eye
twisting and curving
back on itself

 

2. The Skull’s Perspective

 

At first it all felt wrong,
reversed, bent forward
in a geometric embrace
of mass and space,
the brush stroke
through the hollow eye
that will never see,
beyond to the delicate shell
of the brain
that will never again think,
moving slowly
into that shadow of light
the sky insinuates itself in color
and it is there
that you alone can wander,
deep inside the form that is me

 

Georgia O'Keeffe, Ram's Skull with Hollyhock, in 1935

Georgia O’Keeffe, Ram’s Skull with Hollyhock, (c) 1935

deers-skull-with-pedernal.jpg!Large

Deer’s Skull with Pedernal by Georgia O’Keefe (c) 1936

 

 

Haiga #1 (a senryu)

I had three photo haiga  published in the March issue of faileD haikU, a Journal of English Senryu, Volume 1, Issue 3, edited by Michael Rehling. The journal is only the third issue, but it’s become enormously popular…with good reason.

For this first one, I’d like to thank my dear friend and photographer, Yolanda Litton, for the collaborative use of her wonderful picture with my senryu.

I talk to the birds haiga

 

I will post the other two haiga separately.

Dream Time 2

 

 

 

1-crow's ebony wings haiga Jan 20, 2013, 1-31 PM 2622x1966

This tanka art piece is the second in my Dream Time series of poems. To read the first poem in the series (on this blog), follow this link:

Dream Time 1

As you’ll notice the two poems are quite different in style and content, but I’ve grouped them together in Dream Time since both were written while poised on that slender edge of dreaming into another time and place. 

 

pen divider

A Special Word of Thanks:

A big thank you to my dear husband, Ritchie D. Kendall, who took this photograph on a hill in Greenwich in 2013 when we were living in London. 

 

Library of Congress Japanese woodprint

Crow on a Willow Branch, Japanese woodprint, Library of Congress woodprint

 

Charlotte’s Story: Haiku for Wilbur by Mary Kendall (ME, IN FICTION Poetry and Prose Series)

silverbirchpress's avatarSilver Birch Press

Charlottes-Web-Terrific-Garth-Williams1Charlotte’s Story: Haiku for Wilbur
by Mary Kendall

“My Words”

my words—
who knew what a story
we’d become?

“First Friend”

a friend—
something my kind
never knew

“The Unexpected”

new friend—
silken parachutes in spring wind
bestow surprises

“Silken Words”

silken words…
hearts woven together
in their own story

“Some Pig”

little did they know
how special you were—
some pig!

“Terrific”

a real friend
who accepted me as I am…
terrific!

“Radiant”

just knowing
you have a good friend…
this radiant heart

“I Told You”

out of nowhere
grows the best thing…
kindness of spirit

“Humble”

humble—
your kindness of heart
my friend

“The Fair”

harvest moon—
who knew how high
we’d fly?

“Templeton”

even a rat
can help a friend..
who knew?

“My Time”

time for rest
my voice a whisper
…alone now

“Good-bye”

no need to worry—
our memories will live on
in your heart

“Death”

View original post 261 more words

The Gleam in His Lusty Eye

 

Woods Hole, MA - 3/30/14

 

From the window

I watch the cardinal

shuck a sunflower seed,

and, beak to beak,

like a passionate kiss,

he passes it to her,

his paler partner.

I imagine then

that I see the gleam

in his lusty eye.

 

 

sunflower seeds

Note on Photograph: I can find no other attribution for this photograph other than it was taken in Woods Hole, Massachusetts in 2014. It has appeared in a number of online birding sites. My thanks to the anonymous (but talented) photographer for capturing this tender moment.

The Eagles Have Landed…

800px-bald_eagle_fish

THE DECORAH EAGLES…JOIN THE FAN CLUB!

The eagles landed some time ago and have carefully rebuilt and replenished their nest. I am referring to the now famous Deborah Eagles out in Iowa. For several years now, I’ve been one of their fans watching the live camera feed. The first egg has been laid, and the camera is showing mom sitting on it as the wild winds blow past here high up in a cottonwood tree.

eggshell2

The first egg was laid a day ago. It will hatch in 35-39 days if all goes well.

eagles together close up of egg

Watch it, if you dare. You just might get hooked on this fascinating bit of eavesdropping.


Raptor Resource Project Decorah Eagle Cam, Decorah, IA

***LIVE CAMERA LINK:  http://www.raptorresource.org/falcon_cams/decorah_eagle_xcel.html

[All citations from: http://www.thedecoraheagles.com]
 


I first watched them in 2011 and was fascinated by the eagles but also by the avid eagle watchers. I learned more about eagles and raptors than I thought I would. For instance, this first egg that was just laid will hatch in 35-39 days. These particular nesting eagles have been very successful, very attentive parents. If you have children or grandchildren, nieces or nephews or if you teach, I can’t recommend this more highly. Technology gives us a beautiful glimpse into the world of these powerful, beautiful birds.
 
And, since this is my poetry blog, here’s my poem that I wrote for the first eagles I watched learning to fly. Hard to imagine that they need to “learn” but they do indeed. My poem is dedicated to the eagles.
 
out of the nest

And Then It Flew

Older by only days, the first-born eagle
Was the first to branch, the first to fly~

Young eyes studying the world beyond the tree,
It now stood on a limb, lifting its wings over

And over, learning how to battle erratic gusts,
Learning how to channel the waiting wind,

Understanding now what it would be like to fly.
Again and again, those powerful wings fluttered,

Starting and stopping, gaining strength and nerve,
Gathering courage for that first awkward jump

Until one morning it lifted off the branch and flew,
Joining its parents in capturing the wind, trusting

That once it had made that leap, it too would fly.

His first flight.

His first flight.

Donut Dog ~ a Visual Poem

Katy, my donut dog, deep in sleep.

Katy, my donut dog, deep in sleep.

One of the great joys in life is owning a dog you absolutely adore. For me that is my sweet seven year old yellow Labrador retriever, Katy. We got Katy as a one year old rescue dog from the wonderful rescue group, Saving Grace, in North Carolina. She surprised us by chewing just about everything including more than one down-filled pillow. (Did you know that a down pillow contains a million and a half down feathers? Neither did I until I had to clean up the ‘snow filled’ house on several occasions.) Seriously, we quickly found out that this bundle of energy needed really long, hard exercise. For Katy, this came in the activity of fetching. Even today she still runs so fast that people comment on it. And she fetches until you stop throwing the tennis ball. My neighbors are used to dropping off bags of used tennis balls, all for Katy’s pleasure. She definitely has her fans. Who can resist a lovely, very silly dog who won’t live without her beloved tennis ball?

This poem is my tribute to my dear Katy. As you can see from the picture above, she loves to curl up like a donut (what dog doesn’t love this position?).

Donut Dog by Mary Kendall

Donut Dog by Mary Kendall

Eye on the prize!

Eye on the prize!

A ball is always close by.

A ball is always close by.

Even old tennis balls need a nap.

Even old tennis balls need a nap.

The First Coyote

The First Coyote

Shadowed by trees, it was alert,
Watching those on the porch.
Tall, thin, a knife sharp gaze,
This coyote knew its way around.

The startled man cradled the cat
And called the nervous dogs back
Inside the house, far away from
This lurker in the evening woods.

Was it waiting for a squirrel or
Rabbit? You couldn’t tell this far
Away, yet clearly it was patient
And after tonight’s dinner.

How else could it survive
If not for foraging here and
There, waiting for a quick
Capture, meat for a day or two.

This was the first coyote seen
In the neighborhood, and now
I open the window late at night
To listen to it sing to the moon.