Flying against the wind

Posted on February 6, 2018 by Mary Kendall

Flying Against the Wind

Your thoughts drifted out to sea—riding on the wind

like wisps of breath lost on a freezing day.

.
With only the lighthouse for company and water all around,

your steady feet were planted firmly on the point.

You looked as if you were an island isolated from the world,

but you were not.

The chill March air made even you feel cold.

You pulled the flapping wings of your jacket closed,

zipped it, and slid your hands deep inside the pockets.

Except for this, you never moved.

You stood there looking at the sea that went on forever,

searching the horizon for clues where it might end.

The wind stung your eyes as waves conjured up whitecaps,

then swept them away like mermaids lost and turned to foam

while currents pulled together and then apart.

A fierce gust blew through your bones, trying to topple you,

but you stood fast. Even sea birds hid behind steep cliffs,

not daring to fly against the wind.

“Arai: Whitecaps on the Ocean (Arai—Enkai hato),” c. 1848-1849, by Utagawa Hiroshige I

Walking Away

Posted on February 7, 2017 by Mary Kendall

Where do poems come from? Anyone who writes poetry asks that question and has that question asked of them by others who wonder how a poem comes to be. There are many articles and books on the subject, but still there is no single answer. Every poet writes differently and often in a lifetime writing patterns and habits might change, too.

To show you how oddly this can happen, I’ve decided to post a poem that appeared in my chapbook, Erasing the Doubt (published 2015 by Finishing Line Press). “Walking Away” is a poem that has its own style, its own cadence and its own meaning. If I were to read this somewhere, I think I’d say it feels very much like an old fashioned poem, as if it echoes a voice from long ago. How did that happen? There is an unusual story behind this poem and how it came to be. It came to me as a whole poem when I was up late writing and suddenly became very, very tired. It appeared almost dreamlike to me. I typed it up quickly, read it once and went to bed. When I read it the next day, it didn’t feel or sound like me, but obviously I had written it. Strange indeed. This experience happened only once in my life.Was another poet speaking through me? Or was this merely a side freed from regular consciousness because of fatigue?

I’d love to hear your comments on this poem and what it means to you when you read it. Feel free to leave a message

I’ve recorded this poem if you care to listen as well as read. Just click on this link:

Walking Away

When you go, where do you wander?
When you leave me, do you look back?
I sit here, book in hand, not reading.

The wind blows fiercely through now.

They asked how long you had been silent,
And I answered with a lie, which
Was not the truth but might have been.

The wind blows silently through now.

Did you hear me whispering to you?
Did you hear what I had to say? Or did
I turn away and only mouth the words?

The wind blows piercingly through now.

Where do you go when you wander?
Tell me what you see. When you look
At me, I feel you walking away.

Lamenting the darkness, the wind blows softly now.

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

Posted on May 27, 2016 by Mary Kendall

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.

Georgia O’Keefe and cow skull

On Viewing a Skull Painting by Georgia O’Keeffe

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

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Category Archives: Erasing the Doubt

Flying against the wind