{Sometimes old poems ask to be reworked. This is a small example of just that.}
On Growing Old Together, A Love Poem
Will you scatter me over water or throw me to the winds, letting me float away?
Will your ashes mingle with mine one day when you too are gone . . .
Ashes to ashes . . .
Will you take my hand again and hold me close against the wind? Will your eyes always smile with mine?
Dust to dust . . .
Will our hearts travel as one no matter where that might be? Will our love be forever?
Two stars together.
November 2025
This is a love poem written for my husband. We met in 1974, fifty-one years ago. This poem originally appeared on this blog in 2015, but I was never really happy with the ending. It never felt “right” to me. Those of you who are writers will know the feeling. You will know that some poems are meant to pop up again for you to rework it until it really is complete, and this is what I have done.
Growing older together has been a gift to both of us. We have shared so much and grown so much. Love is the one constant in the equation we call life. This poem is dedicated to my beloved husband and to all who have loved and been loved.
I’ve recorded myself reading the poem should you care to listen. Just click on the button below and give it a half a minute to begin.
Blithe Spirit is the Journal of theBritish Haiku Society. Two of my tanka and one haiku were published in Volume 27, Number 23 (2017). I am most grateful to be part of this issue.
old shoes –
the challenge
of moving on
plum blossoms—
watching you
struggle for so long
I remember how brief
a season is
stopping to study
fritillaries, tulips
and jonquils –
the sudden way
you take my hand
(c) 2017, Mary Kendall Blithe Spirit, Volume 27, Number 23 (2017)
I’ve had two haiku and one haiga included in the newest edition of Wild Plum, a haiku journal, 3:1 Spring & Summer 2017.
unforgettable— the taste of zinfandel on your lips
forgiveness the new year’s moon lights the way
March brings lots of wonderful poetry journals. Another favorite of mine is Wild Plum, a haiku journal, 3:1 Spring & Summer 2017. The journal is edited by Gabriel Sawicki. This journal is based in Poland, and it has a very international group of readers and contributors. The haiga editor is Maria Tomczak. I hope you will go to their journal directly and read it in full. It’s a very beautiful journal (lovely cover art by Azi Kuder. I’ve added a link at the bottom of this posting.
Here’s a link to the complete version of this lovely haiku journal:
If you’d like to hear me read this poem, please click on the link below. Wait a few seconds for it to load. I hope you enjoy both listening and reading this love poem.
Another Love Poem…
~ To my husband and partner of forty years ~
We walked along in the Tuileries alone among the chestnut trees,
morning sky of crisp pale gold so many paths we have strolled,
and still we wander, just us two, my heart never very far from you.
We stop to sit and watch the birds green park chairs, unspoken words,
plain sparrows chirp, so unadorned no beauty lost, no beauty mourned.
Simple thoughts are often most true— no man was ever loved more than you.
This photo haiga was created by me as a response to a prompt: ZENITH. This is one day in NaHaiWriMo (National Haiku Writing Month) on Facebook during the month of February.
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.
In the past five months I have been studying my much beloved tanka, haiku and small poems in order to become a better writer. Writers–and poets–need to keep growing as they go. As part of my interest in these lovely small poem forms, I have joined a number of exception online groups of poets who post their own writing. On several of the sites, “prompts” are given and sometimes a picture is given. People respond as they wish or not. Often comments are given. I can’t tell you what a thrill it is to get a “like” or even a comment by one of these poets who are so gifted and accomplished tanka and/or haiku poets, but even without the ‘likes,’ it feels wonderful to be a little more confident about sharing poems publicly. This morning, I’m posting several tanka I wrote this week to specific prompts.
This love poem was written for my husband. We met in 1974, forty years ago. It really does seem like last year. Growing older together has been a gift to both of us. We have shared so much and grown so much. Love is the one constant in the equation we call life.
This poem is dedicated to my beloved husband and to all who have loved and been loved.
The link below will give you the option of hearing me read the poem. Click on it if you wish to listen. (It takes a few seconds to begin.)
On Growing Old Together
Will you scatter me over water
or throw me to the winds,
letting me float away?
Will your ashes mingle
with mine one day
when you too are gone?
Ashes to ashes…
Will you take my hand again
and hold me close against the wind?
Will your eyes always smile with mine?
Dust to dust…
Will our hearts travel as one
no matter where that might be?
Will our love be forever?
Ashes to ashes, Soul to Soul.
Since my last posting, my husband and I have flown across the Atlantic and are settling into the faculty flat in Winston House, Bedford Square, London. Quite a beautiful place to live for four months ago. Some of my readers know all about this because they followed my travel blog (Bedford Square + 2), which will continue on a non-Word Press platform. If you are curious, you can find it through this link: http://marykendall2.blogspot.co.uk
We lived here two years ago, spending the spring term and following it with five weeks on the continent. This time ’round we will be here for four months. The flight was, for once, not too bad way back in coach class. The pilot surprised us all by taking off exactly on time and arriving at Heathrow Airport 50 minutes early. For real.
Jet-lag is something that seems to get worse with age, and both of us fell fast asleep at 10 pm on New Year’s Eve. At the stroke of midnight we both woke to what sounded like an awful ruckus. It took only a few seconds to figure out it was the fireworks along the Thames. From our windows we couldn’t see the fireworks directly. What we did see was the sky turning beautiful shades of pink, green, purple, white…and flashes of sparkling white rockets. By sticking my head out the window I figured out that I could see some of the fireworks and those were dazzling enough to me in my exhausted state.
(we didn’t see this from our window, but the sky was quite similar)
After about 12 minutes of this sound and light show in this ancient city, my husband quickly fell back to sleep while I remained wide awake for an hour. It gave me some quiet time to make a cup of tea, sit down in the darkened living area and think about our many visits to the UK and to London in particular.
Our first trip to London and England was back in 1977 when we were young and energetic enough to walk absolutely everywhere. Another summer we spent about a month in London following a month in Oxford where R. did research, and I enjoyed exploring parks, museums, shops, streets. In 1989, we brought the first group of students over on this Honors London program sponsored by my husband’s university. We lived in Hampstead that year, and we loved it. Our son was in nursery school, so I made friends of some spectacular women. The Heath was there for daily walks and our local library was next door to the Keats house. After we checked out our books, my little son and I would go sit in the garden of the Keats House and read stories together. It didn’t ever get better than that for me. Sometimes simple acts or simple gestures are better than anything.
In 2013, we returned to London and were housed in beautiful Winston House that now is home for this London Honors program. It was a very wonderful time for us and for the students. We’ve kept in touch with many of them. And now, in 2015, we are unexpectedly back again for four months. A new group of students will arrive on January 10th, and the term will have begun.
I will continue my travel blog if anyone is interested. Since this blog is devoted to my poetry writing practice, I thought I’d begin the new year with an old poem. I published it in 2013 in my Bedford Square + 2 blog as a Valentine’s gift to my husband. Since his teaching and research have given us both so many wonderful stays in this beautiful country, I’d like to share a very simple love poem I wrote for him. Love is not tied to a single day or week or year, and sometimes simple things like strolling in a beautiful place help you reaffirm your love and relationship.
If you might like to listen to me reading the poem, simply click on the link below. It takes a few seconds to begin.
Taking Your Arm
I took your arm for the first time in so many years. Was it the cold damp air that made me reach out? Was it the need to feel safe in the noisy city streets?
Slipping my fingers into the crook of your arm, the warmth of your soft wool coat was comforting. I felt grounded and balanced by your strength.
Through the busy London streets we walked, much of it in silence, a silence built on knowing that words aren’t always necessary.
I glanced down at our booted feet. Our steps kept time, first left, then right, left, then right, finding the rhythm of these unknown streets.
The Broken Promise: Orpheus and Eurydice
by Mary Kendall
If only he had kept his promise, she’d be there.
All it took was one glance, a quick turn,
a meeting of the eyes and then she vanished.
How long did he stand there staring at where she had been?
When did he realize that she was lost to him forever?
How sad the stars were that night,
tumbling through the black sky
in mournful arcs;
even the moon turned its face away.
As he lead her out toward the ledge,
did she gasp at her unsure footing?
She with her snake-born limp,
trying hard to keep pace through dark tunnels
winding up to the craggy precipice?
Was this what tempted him to look?
His glance came so naturally,
that of the husband who worried
his wife might stumble and fall.
His trust in her never wavered and yet he looked…
I’m not sure where this poem came from. It just happened. I was thinking about the sad loss of butterflies this summer and what that might mean to our environment, our gardens, our enjoyment of nature. Somehow, from that line of thought to the poem…well, how does one explain where things are born? I hope you enjoy this poem.
An audio of me reading this poem is available at the link below. Give it a few seconds to begin.
When a Heart Breaks
Did you ever consider a heart is like a chrysalis? Perfectly wrapped round and round, silken strands layered one upon the other, locked together in a solid embrace of fragile fibers.
This is what the heart is.
When a heart breaks, no one picks through the fibers trying to separate the strands. Yet it can be undone so easily.
Words can unravel it so quickly that it spins like a frenzied top, leaving behind a trail of weakened strings, no longer useful to anyone.
A Poet in Time 