Billowing fog (a few haiku & tanka)

 

 

Two haiku and one tanka in Kokako 29, 2018, a journal of the New Zealand Poetry Society:

 

 

where the house
once stood
only cherry blossoms 

 

 

 

billowing fog
the burden of keeping
your secret

 

 

 

rosé bottle
the forgiving vagueness
of frosted glass
the morning
after

 

 

 

 

Screen Shot 2018-09-28 at 4.01.00 PM

no attribution for this lovely picture I found online

 

 

 

Unwanted touch …

 

Presence Issue 61 (2018) / three haiku and one tanka:

 

1.

a shadow blocks the light    unwanted touch

 

2.

washed up –
this broken shell
once sang the sea

3.

far above
old cotton fields –
migrating swans

4.

thin curls of wood
fly away
from the lathe –
his memory slips 
away bit by bit

 

Screen Shot 2018-08-12 at 11.46.46 AM

 

 

 

Trying hard to hold on … (two tanka)

 

IMG_4495

Red Lights, Volume 13, No. 2, June 2017

 

 

peeling an orange

in one long strand –

trying hard to hold on

to all I remember

of those now gone

 

 

 

a wooden pew

empty and waiting . . .

colored light

from stained glass

cupped in my hands

 

My thanks to editor and poet, Marilyn Hazelton, who published these tanka in the most excellent Red Lights.

Walking Away

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:

610980-bigthumbnail

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.

 

 

1-IMG_1133

“Walking Away” was published in Erasing the Doubt by Mary Kendall (c) 2015, Finishing Line Press.

 

 

 

 

Marching on…

 

Two tanka and one haiku were published
in  A Hundred Gourds 5:2 March 2016

Screen Shot 2016-03-07 at 7.58.50 AM

 

 

 

~~~

A Hundred Gourds 5:2 March 2016
http://www.ahundredgourds.com

My Mother’s Voice…a poem of loss

Today, my favorite haiga was published in a favorite journal, Gnarled Oak. It is a lovely home for this haiga. Here it is along with the link to Gnarled Oak (check out all the great poetry in this journal). The editor, James Brush, releases one poem a day, a custom I love. It’s always a joy to see what each day holds. My thanks goes to James for accepting this piece.

http://gnarledoak.org/issue-5/my-mothers-voice/

 

My Mother's Voice haiga

 

.

beautiful border for blog

 

This haiga was originally posted on this blog on June 14, 2015.