Chopsticks . . . (a haiga)

 

 

 

Published in Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga, Issue, 24, Spring 2018

 

Note on the art work for this haiga: When we lived in London in 2017, I was enjoying the beautiful Christmas windows at Fortnum and Mason. You can see what is obviously a part of a window display in this haiga but superimposed on it is a reflection of the buildings that were on the opposite side of the street.  It was pure luck (since I’m not much of a photographer and usually only use my iPhone) that the sun was right and I caught this interesting juxtaposition. Obviously it was perfect for pairing with a verse and this senryu seemed to fit the bill.

 

Speechless . . . (a tanka)

 

 

 

the statue of David
stands so tall in the gallery,
I am speechless
in the Italian
I never learned

 

 

Published in Ekphrasis: The British Haiku Society Member’s Anthology, 2017

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The statue of David by Michelangelo is in the Accademia Gallery in Florence, Italy. It was sculpted between 1501 and 1504.

Looking back…

In Frameless Sky 4, editor Christine L. Villa paired my haiku/senryu with a another lovely photograph of Irena Iris Szewczyk. My thanks go to Irena Iris Szewczyk and to Christine L. Villa, editor of  Frameless Sky.

 

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Words by Mary Kendall
Photograph by 
Irena Iris Szewczyk
Frameless Sky 4, Summer 2016

So many I loved now gone

In Frameless Sky 4, my tanka was set to this beautiful photograph of Irena Iris Szewczyk. My warmest thanks to Irena Iris Szewczyk and to Christine L. Villa, editor of Frameless Sky. I will be posting others from this fine video publication in the next week.

A link to me reading this tanka is given below:

 

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A Few Extra Notes:

Irena Iris Szewczyk is both a distinguished photographer and haiku poet. Irina blogs at Iris Haiku where she posts her photographs and her haiku:                                           http://iris-haiku.blogspot.com

Her artwork for Frameless Sky 4 can be seen here:  http://framelesssky.weebly.com/artwork.html

Christine L. Villa is editor of Frameless Sky. She is a distinguished poet herself. Her blog is called Blossom Rain and is located here:  http://blossomrain.blogspot.com

Frameless Sky can be found here: http://framelesssky.weebly.com

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

Silver 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

Winter Night Sky (a tanka)

starry night sky kayaga

Starry Sky (c) Kayaga

 

how could the moon

show its face

without light

…how could the stars

sing us songs?

 

journal and pen

 

 

 

Beauty in Broken Pieces

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New Note as of March 11, 2016: This poem has just been published on a favorite online journal called Ekphrastic: Writing and Art on Art and Writing. A link to the journal:  http://www.ekphrastic.net/ekphrastic/beauty-in-broken-pieces-by-mary-kendall

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Readers of this blog don’t always notice its subtitle: One Poet’s Practice. I like to practice. I like to experiment. All poets do. Without stretching the mind, you fall into the pattern of repetition. Each poem starts sounding like the last or the next.

I have been writing a lot in short form poetry–haiku, haiga, tanka, and other small poems. Today, in an effort to go in a completely different direction, I offer you a very long, rambling poem–quite unlike me, I know. It is called “Beauty in Broken Pieces,” inspired by a lovely photograph taken in Dublin, Ireland by India Leigh Lassiter, herself a talented writer as well as photographer. Thank you, India, for allowing me to use your picture as a starting point for this poem.

 

To hear me read this poem, please click on the link below (give it a minute to load):

 

India blue spiral

Blue Spiral, Dublin, Ireland (c) 2015 photograph by India Leigh Lassiter

 

Beauty in Broken Pieces…

 

 

Perhaps it was once a deep blue vase,
holding seven pale pink peonies
freshly cut one May morning…

the silence shattered
suddenly when
she lost her balance,

grabbed
the oval table

and together
crashed down,

one in splintered pieces,
the other dazed
watching the water
slowly spread
under the petals.

Or perhaps…

it was packed away in a doctor’s study,
an old cabinet filled with bottles…
cobalt blue bottles with faded labels,
the dark blue hinting of hidden secrets,
dangers that lay in long-dried residue
of those bottles that were shattered
and thrown upon a fire
that raged for hours,
flaring up in vivid hues
of acid green
and mustard yellow,
tipped with amber,
azure and moon,
the air once heavy
with poison
and dreams.

Or…maybe

there was no story.

Do you believe the whole really is bigger
than the sum of its parts?
And please, don’t let’s forget
there is always
perspective.

Large things are large,
but small things
are also large
if seen
close
up.

 

It is lovely, this small mosaic
made of glass in shades of blue,

blue so dark,
it might still hold the sound
of the ocean from the sand
that washed up and back
over and over

dancing on the ocean floor

before it became
the glass
we see…

for what is glass
but sand
and fire,

beach
and
star?

even
a simple
spiral
mosaic
in shades
of blue, pearl and silver
might hold the deep bass song
of the darkling ocean,
the glimmering
whispers
of clouds
above,

patterns spiraling through nature
like our thoughts about beauty,
reality or memory’s truth

Fibonacci gave it his name,
the Greeks gave it meaning
with their golden ratio…
it exists everywhere
… a simple nautilus shell,
the sunflower’s seed head
that turns to the sun,
and following its cue, the pinecone,
the hurricane, even the galaxy, the cosmos

and here with this Irish glass spiral
we come full circle of woman
with camera, snapping
a photo, capturing
the balance of
silvery bits
and pearl
to blue
done
just
so
.

 

 

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