hidden from full view
stars on a cloudy night
still hurtling, burning and
singing their tunes—
unseen, I sing along
This tanka was published in Ribbons, Spring/Summer 2026: Volume 22, Number 1
Photo by Mary Kendall London Night Sky
In honor of this beautiful season, here is an oldie of mine:
spring . . .
hearing green
and only green
[published Hedgerow #130, Winter 2020]
This haiku has only six words and eight syllables. It’s subject is simple: spring. What does spring mean to you as a reader, a person, perhaps a writer (as many of you are)? I’m sure we could spend hours coming up with wonderful definitions and explanations of what spring is (scientifically) and what it means to us. Spring evokes all sorts of images and memories, does it not?
Synesthesia–a beautiful word to say aloud–is both a neurological condition and a literary term/rhetorical device. A neurologist might encounter patients who might visualize a color when smelling a scent or hearing a certain note or sound when looking at a color. In the haiku (above), I have used synesthesia as a rhetorical device. You may be very familiar with this term and use since it goes back quite a way (Homer used it). Here is a definition from the Poetry Foundation:
Synesthesia in poetry is a literary device that blends different sensory modalities—such as sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste—to create vivid, unconventional imagery. It describes one sensation in terms of another (e.g., “loud colors” or “sweet sound”) to evoke intense emotional or atmospheric responses, often blurring the lines between perception and description.
For some wonderful examples go to their site and read this:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/education/glossary/synesthesia
I hope that this brief excursion into literary devices makes you suddenly aware of just how often synesthesia is used in the books you read or in songs and even in the commercials you see on television.
Remember when you were a child and you were taught about similes. You probably delighted in making up similes left and right. Literary devices expand our thinking and our perception by pushing us a little bit into making new (sometimes strange) connections.
This haiku of mine placed in the Golden Triangle Haiku Contest in Washington, DC. Each poem selected appears on a placard in downtown DC. What delight to have this one accepted this past spring and what excellent company to have.
From their website:
The 2025 Golden Haiku competition set another record-breaking year, receiving over 4,750 haiku worldwide from all 50 states, D.C., and 66 countries. Youth participation reached an all-time high as well, with more than 600 haiku submitted by school-age poets. Winning and selected haiku were displayed on colorful signs throughout the Golden Triangle from March through May.
All entries were reviewed and judged by a distinguished panel of published haiku experts including Abigail Friedman, Lenard Moore, and Kit Pancoast Nagamura.
Golden Haiku follows the Haiku Society of America’s guidelines for modern haiku, which does not require the traditional 5-7-5 structure. Removing the strict structural requirements for syllables frees the author to use evocative language to capture a moment or expression of beauty in a short, descriptive verse.
Three tanka published last February in the lovely journal, GUSTS:
Gusts No. 38 Contemporary Tanka, Canada,
Fall/Winter 2024
Compliments of “Draw Botanical”
a day lily blooms
for a single day
this brevity
a wonder to some,
unsettling to others
poor brown moth
trapped in a web
the more you flutter
the tighter those
fine strands pull
the art aisle holds
such soft sable brushes
wedge, round, pointed, flat
patiently waiting
to adorn my words
~ ~ ~
Three tanka published in
Gusts No. 37 Contemporary Tanka, Canada,
Spring/Summer 2023
~
I grow old now
and dream of a journey
I will never take
. . . the aurora borealis
dances, but does it sing?
~
the emptiness
of losing a friend—
never understanding
what I did or
what you felt I did
~
such soaring voices
pure soprano & alto notes
in a boys’ choir
each singer’s gift destined
to change course
~ ~ ~
.
.
Notes:
(1) All tanka by Mary Kendall © 2023
(2) Photo by stein egil liland
https///www.pexels.com/photo/mountain-under-aurora-borealis-9636388/.jpg
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Ribbons, the journal of the Tanka Society of America is a favorite of all tanka poets. It’s always an honor to have poems accepted for publication. Here are some from the last two issues.
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Ribbons Winter 2023: Volume 19, Number 1
crisp golden leaves
ready themselves for flight
. . . I was just five
when you walked out
and left us all behind
Also, in Ribbons’ Tanka Hangout:
winter winds
wildly whip limbs
boughs & branches –
come closer and hear
my heart hum along
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Plus a collaboration with Christine L. Villa–her beautiful art and my tanka that was inspired by it:
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Ribbons Fall 2022: Volume 18, Number 3
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the unmistakable scent
of ripe Anjou pears –
remembering
his low voice as he read
Verlaine aloud
.
‘Tanka Studio’ in Ribbons Fall 2022
.
speaking in an even tone
that gives nothing away,
your inscrutable gaze
was always a challenge
for me to decipher
.
All poems (c)by Mary Kendall
The lovely New Zealand journal, Kokaku, published two haiku and two tanka in their fall issue: Kokaku #37, 2022.
Kokaku #37, 2022
evening web –
the last plum blossom
caught fast
***
corner flower shop –
if only our lives were
arranged so well
***
quick twists and turns
of rutting deer ~
another season passes
adrift in colours
of passion and promise
***
This tanka appeared on my blog last month but was from this issue (37):
a tiny fawn dead
by the side of the road –
I close my eyes & imagine
all those children lost
in Ukraine strikes
***
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
~
Image by meineresterampe from Pixabay
~
having made it
halfway across, halfway back
I stop and pause
wondering which way
I really want to go
~
Published in Eucalypt 32 Tanka, May 2022 Issue
~
Tight-Rope Walker by Jean Louis Forain, c. 1885, Art Institute of Chicago
This tanka was inspired by a painting of a tightrope walker:
Tight Rope Walker by Jean Louis Forain, The Art Institute of Chicago
~
This is the first of two tanka published in:
so many bodies in Bucha,
even more mass graves
are dug and quickly filled
. . . no mourners, no prayers
at the gravesite today
Here are several of my contributions in Brass Bell:
Brass Bell October 2022 / Theme: kitchen haiku
teatime
just water and leaves
you and me
Brass Bell September 2022 / Theme: homeplace
buffalo, new york
we all laugh & tumble off
the long toboggan again
Brass Bell August 2022 / Theme: water
icy rain—
somehow this ache
just won’t leave
washed up
without a song
moon shell
Brass Bell July 2022 / Theme: sound
lyrics long forgotten
the melody always
in my mind
Brass Bell is published on the first day of every month. This delightful haiku journal is beautifully curated by editor/writer, Zee Zehava and can be found here: http://brassbellhaiku.blogspot.com. Writers are from around the world and some of the finest haiku/senryu writers appear on these pages.
Presence #72, Spring 2022
.
winter birds crack seeds
& feast on blocks of suet –
my long morning is spent
polishing old pieces
of silver we rarely use
.
.
Photo by Stauffers of Kissel Hill
Moonbathing 26, Summer 2022
one by one trying
hard to make amends,
I separate fine strands
of webs I’ve made
to hide my mistakes
‘silk’
Published in Ribbons, TSA, Summer 2022
your Panama hat
blows off
into the Grand Canal –
if only our decisions
could be so free
with healing hands
placed over my heart,
I hear its whispering
voice between beats—
forgive, forgive, forgive
~~~
Brass Bell June 2022
Theme: One line haiku
~ ~
~ ~
~ ~
Note: All pansy pictures are taken from Pinterest. No specific photographers were listed.
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Kokako #36, Spring 2022
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It’s always a joy to have the New Zealand poetry journal, Kokako, publish some of my poetry. For their spring issue, they chose a one-line haiku and two tanka. I hope you enjoy them.
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.
seabirds drift on thermals—night becomes day
.
.
~~~
cassia, lady slippers,
dutchman’s breeches, rue –
my garden becomes
the one circle of friends
I find it hard to leave
.
~~~
.
dark morning
filled with wild winds
that blow the birds awake
& by the crows’ swift,
and sharp reply
The third (and last) tanka published in the latest issue of Gusts:
does inner life
start or end in the heart
I heard it for the first time
in a deep red canyon,
that distant river of me
GUSTS no. 35, Contemporary Tanka,
Spring/Summer 2022 Tanka Canada
Universe by Gerd Altmann
A second tanka published in the spring/summer issue of Gusts:
imagination . . .
the only place it’s always
safe to go and wander,
just the songs of stars
and sweep of ice-drifts
~
GUSTS no. 35, Contemporary Tanka,
Spring/Summer 2022 (Tanka Canada)
Like so many other people, the year and a half pandemic has thrown my sense of time way off. I’m so far behind in posting newly published poems on this blog that I find myself now playing catch up. I am both honored and happy to have had such fine journals select some of my work to publish in 2021.
both of us relieved
we made it to this side
of the pandemic –
falling back in love
with spring’s soft greening
Published in Ribbons, Tanka Café, Spring 2021
day moon ~
no shadow on
my mammogram
Published: Blithe Spirit 31.3 2021
A haiku or a senryu? I love this poem very much, and I’m so grateful to Caroline Skanne, the editor of Blithe Spirit, for choosing it for publication.
I have always been fascinated with seeing a “day moon.” I’ve always considered it a sign or good luck or something fortunate happening or about to happen. Do you have any thoughts about seeing the moon out during the daylight hours? Is it magical to you? It is for me.
Three poems (two haiku and one tanka) were published in the winter issue of Kokako, 2021. I have a real fondness for this journal because I love all things Kiwi. New Zealand is a beautiful country with such great people. They have a very active poetry community, and Kokako is a beautiful journal to be part of.
1.
snow drifts ~
the wild wind’s
last brief fling
2.
woodland colours
now grow pale
winter light
3.
arranging zinnias
in an old milk jug,
this pandemic silence
urges me to notice
the simplest things
Note: Photo of Zinnias (c) 2021 by Park Seeds
a gathering basket
filled with rosehips & hazels –
why is it so hard
to put back all the bits
and pieces you left behind?
Published in GUSTS: Contemporary Tanka 33 (Tanka Canada)
starry-eyed
the vast galaxy
of a child’s imagination
Published (c) Frogpond, Volume 44.1 Winter 2021
.
.
.
sleet storm –
a nagging thought
just won’t let go
.
.
.
Published in Blithe Spirit, 31.1 2021
.
.
bleakness –
the lingering taste
of a bad dream
Blithe Spirit, 31.1 2021
.
rough edges worn down
on well-trodden paths,
each cobblestone
a reminder of how far
we’ve travelled
.
.
Published in Eucalypt 29, Winter 2020
Redlights, Volume 17, No. 1, January 2021
Photography by Autumn Mott Rodeheaver
whirlwinds of scarlet
and ochre leaves
flit across the square –
days of self-isolation spent
learning to slow down
Redlights, Volume 17, No. 1, January 2021
a red-bellied woodpecker
flaunts his drumming skills—
below his tree I pause
to feel his thunder,
to hear his words
Moonbathing, Issue 23, Fall/Winter 2020
hot roasted nuts
heaped into a paper cone –
all that burning anger
you hold onto
so tightly
Photograph by Monika Topolko
As an aside, I am realizing my age is showing. Do young people today even know about folks roasting chestnuts (or other nuts) and buying a brown paper cone full of piping hot nuts to eat on the street? I first came across this in Istanbul when I was young. The scent, heat, taste on a chilly autumn afternoon was one of those moments that has stayed with me all my life. Europeans had this custom, but does anyone still do this? The fragrance was so tempting.
And yet another dream poem ~
Blithe Spirit, 30.4
dream time –
chasing blossom
after blossom
Photo by laura adai on Unsplash
My thanks to Laura Adai for this beautiful photograph of drifting blossoms.
Presence Issue 68, November 2020
winter nights—
dreaming of blackbirds
on snow
My thanks to the editors at Presence for publishing this haiku.
I am blessed with another haiku published in a favorite journal I love to read: hedgerow: a journal of small poems, issue # 132
September roses
the stone wall
hidden between us
(c) 2020 Mary Kendall
Ribbons 16:3 (fall 2020)
ghosting myself
by looking away . . .
the mirror
no longer a friend
I care to see
(c) Mary Kendall, 2020
Note: This pretty hand mirror was crafted in Germany and sold on Etsy.com.
The Heron’s Nest, XXII.4, December 2020 published one of my haiku:
snow day–
a crackle of fire
in our stories
So careful a gardener, he patiently weeds between the pebbles.
This tanka is dedicated to my dear husband, Ritchie Kendall.
each day you kneel
and work in the garden
I can think of nothing
more prayer-like
than this
Published in the Tanka Society of America Members’ 2020 Anthology.
.
the chiming clock
begins to wind down . . .
five months of quarantine
yet still the roses bloom
and red birds sing
.
This tanka was published in October, but obviously was written in early summer. We are now nine months into this pandemic. Writing is a wonderful relief as we isolate ourselves. Like so many poets, I find my writing has been changed by the pandemic.
cattails:
The Official Journal of the United Haiku and Tanka Society, October 2020 issue
Here is the third of my three tanka published in the latest issue of Gusts no. 32, Fall/Winter 2020:
even the crows
are quiet now . . .
the sudden silence
that morning snow
brings
Here’s the second tanka published in
Gusts no. 32, Fall/Winter 2020
pale pink petals
scattered on the desk
one by one the days
of isolation pass,
each fading to nothing
Three tanka published in the winter edition of Gusts, Contemporary Tanka, the journal of Tanka Canada. It’s always a huge thrill to be included in this special journal of tanka. I’ll offer them one at a time.
Gusts no. 32, Fall/Winter 2020
lapis lazuli, delft blue
and French ultramarine . . .
the blueness of blue
in these tired veins
just won’t let go
forgetfulness—
soft feathers drift out
of a poultry truck
~ ~
Published in Frogpond vol. 43:3 fall 2020
Frogpond is the journal of the Haiku Society of America
Today I realized I’d forgotten to post a number of poems published this year (2020), so here they are. I hope you enjoy reading them.
Ribbons 16:2 (spring 2020)
.
icebergs drift and melt
and furious fires rage
will this earth dissolve
into rivulets
of decisions poorly made?
~
Frameless Sky, Issue 12, 2020
soft ripe plums
sitting on the sideboard ~
wouldn’t it lovely
to know you’re
so desiredPresence 66
.
tiny fledglings
with wings outstretched
take that first leap—
how old were we
when doubt began~
wind spilling
from copper rain bells
unbroken drought.
~
impossible
to count them
fireflies
I am delighted to have one tanka and two haiku in the latest issue of Presence:
Presence, Issue 67, July 2020
bitter wind
the maple’s heart
still frozen
~
once so innocent
we had to make up sins
. . . first confession
~
I tried to bury
those memories
for so long…
the raw scent
of freshly plowed earth
The second of two tanka appearing Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal,
Issue 28, 2020
sea glass in cerulean,
aqua and seafoam green
wash up in the morning tide,
mysteries I gently place
in this pail of dreams
One of two tanka appearing Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal, Issue 28, 2020
in the attic I find
your small Wellies
with little frog faces—
oh, those happy puddles
when you were only three
Note: We lived near Hampstead Heath in NW London for a full academic year, 1989-90, with our (then) three year old son, Adam. Oh, how he loved rain puddles and stomping in them in his little green Wellies. Getting exercise each day was never a problem with a child who loved the outdoors no matter what the weather. This poem is for him.
Moonbathing 22, Spring 2020
a faint train whistle
passing by at 3 a.m.
. . . the only normal thing
in these pandemic nights
that makes any sense
Milkweed by James DeMers (pixabay.com)
These tanka were written during the quarantine of Covid-19. My thanks to editor/poet, Marilyn Hazelton, for persuading me to combine some tanka into a tanka sequence. A really good editor is priceless. It’s always an honor to have poems included in Redlights. Click on the link below if you care to hear me read it.
Half-light
August morning
just before the katydids
begin to sing . . .
the lake finally calm
with no ripples
milkweed seeds
scatter straight from
the cottony pod ~
such freedom to go
anywhere, everywhere
a spoon slowly stirs
cream into coffee
those quiet moments
when we lose
all sense of now
arm in arm
we walk together –
forty years & more miles
than either of us
can count
half-light—
walking in fog
where nothing is seen
but somehow we trust
it’s still all there
Red Lights, Summer Issue 2020
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What a very nice surprise! I am one of the top contributors to Prune Juice, a journal every haiku and senryu/kyoka poet knows and loves. What a thrill to be included with such excellent senryu poets.
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Many thanks to the great editors: Brent Goodman (current editor); past editors are: Steve Hodge (2016 – 2018); Terri L. French (2013 – 2015); Liam Wilkinson (2010 – 2012); Alexis Rotella ( 2009)
.
Here’s a link to the whole anthology: pj-book-of-senryu
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The PRUNE JUICE BOOK of SENRYU celebrates 10 years of the finest English Senryu from around the world by 85 of our TOP Contributors, featuring 337 poems plucked from the journal’s first 29 issues by past and current Prune Juice editors.
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Here are mine that they published:
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Mary Kendall – USA
12 issues
.
your tumor growing we worry about the snow
.
#18 2016
.
Reiki session . . .
feeling so
out of touch
.
#20 2016
.
beginner’s yoga class . . .
our first sun salutation
eclipsed by the teacher
.
#22 2017
.
promises not kept —
that umbrella you gave me
blows inside out
.
#23 2017
.
defined
by their parameters
love triangle
.
#29 2019
.
Prune Juice Book of Senryu: Celebrating 10 Years: 2009 – 2019 Copyright © 2020 Prune Juice
p. 94
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the slow hiss
and sudden pop
of a pinecone in fire—
admitting the mistake
is a first step
*
had you lived
we’d almost be twins,
two sisters
so close in time
we nearly touched
*
this urge
to turn and walk away
chokecherry
Mary Kendall (c) 2020
Kokako 32, 2020, a journal of the New Zealand Poetry Society
My thanks to the editors of Kokako for publishing all three poems.
sleepless—
I turn and watch
the moon watch me
Acorn: A Journal of Contemporary Haiku, #44, Spring 2020 issue
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.
Synesthesia in haiku ~
This haiku was recently published in Hedgerow, a journal of small poems ~ #130, Winter 2020
spring…
hearing green
and only green
Haru = Spring
Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga
Issue #30, March 2020
both parents
dead at sixty one –
imagine my surprise
the day I turned
sixty-two
Published in Modern Haiku, Winter-Spring, Issue 50:4, 2019
the bite of winter wind
all this murmuring
but no words
Redlights, Volume 16, No. 1, January 2020
a gradual loss
of peripheral vision
leaves it all unclear
why is it that the brain
still searches for the edge
~
underlined passages
in a library book –
I idle away an hour
puzzling why a reader
chose those words
The Heron’s Nest
Volume XXII, Number 1: March 2020
snow melt
a trickle of caribou
comes to an end
Published in Gusts 31 (Spring/Summer 2020), Tanka Canada
Three tanka written and read by Mary Kendall (click on link):
how do I tell you
about the darkness
that embraces me,
uninvited
unwanted
~
a loose shutter
flaps in the storm ~
times when it’s so easy
to lose names, numbers
and where to go
~
the morning spent
ripping out
wild honeysuckle vines . . .
no matter how hard I try
you turn a deaf ear
A Thousand Voices,
2019 Tanka Society of America Member’s Anthology
sweet peas,
crab apple blossoms
and old roses—
for part of each day
I become my mother
What a nice surprise to find one of my tanka included in this beautiful exhibition at the Bristol Museum & Art Gallery in the UK.
“In autumn 2019, poets from around the world responded to a call for haiku, a form of short Japanese poetry, based on Japanese prints in the collection at Bristol Museum & Art Gallery. People sent in more than 800 beautiful, thought-provoking poems from thirty countries worldwide. See the selection below.
Many poems were inspired by woodblock prints in our popular 2018-2019 exhibition series, Masters of Japanese Prints.
The project was arranged by haiku poets Alan Summers and Karen Hoy of creative writing consultancy Call of the Page.” (Quoted from the Bristol Museum & Art Gallery website)
Bristol Museum & Art Gallery, Bristol, UK
winter woodland
bereft of birdsong
with your passing
even clear days
are shadowed
My thanks to Alan Summers and Karen Hoy who oversaw this project. Over 800 poems were submitted. Congratulations to all who were chosen to be part of this exhibition.
Link to the exhibition: https://exhibitions.bristolmuseums.org.uk/japanese-prints/haikus/
Note: You have to click on all the small pictures in order to open many of the prints and poems. Read them all and enjoy!
Published in FROGPOND, Volume 43:1, Winter 2020:
widowhood
day blurs into evening
into night . . .
Woods Hole, MA – 3/30/14
I don’t enter many poetry contests, but I do love to see what entries win or place in contests/competitions I enjoy and admire. There is always so much to learn from other writers, of course, and it is always an inspiration to see what others produce.
One competition I really wanted to enter was the Fourth Annual Jane Reichhold Memorial Haiga Competition, which is co-hosted by Failed Haiku and Prune Juice, two of the very finest Senryu journals around. It is divided into two groups: the Traditional (i.e., with original drawn art) Category (judged by Ron C. Moss) and the Photographic/Mixed Media Category (judged by Steve Hodge). My two entries were in the second category using photographs I had taken. One was left untouched and the other was embellished by some art programs I enjoy using on my iPad.
Imagine my surprise when I found out one of my entries won First Place in the Photographic/Mixed Media Category and the other one got an Honorable Mention! Yes, I was over the moon. It’s a double honor indeed. All the other entries selected in both categories were wonderful. I really can’t imagine how an editor selects one over another, but they do. My thanks to editor, Steve Hodge for selecting both of my haiga in this competition. I am deeply honored. Thanks also to Mike Rehling and Brent Goodman who edit Failed Haiku and Prune Juice.
I’ve included the comments of the editor because it’s always great to hear someone else’s interpretation and response to a poem.
it took sixty years
to find the voice I’d lost–
that day
blue dragonflies
alighted at water’s edge
Moonbathing, a Journal of Women’s Tanka, Fall/Winter 2019.
Edited by Pamela A. Babusci
Two tanka were published in
Eucalypt Issue 27, 2019
miscarriage—
the very word
betrays
the promise
of hope
persimmon sun
dips low and sets –
moonlight on the bed
where I was born
& where my father died
Dove photo by Merlune
defined
by their parameters
love triangle.
.
.
Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga
Issue 29, November 29
One haiku and one tanka were published in Presence, Issue #65, 2019
cat’s tongue
the shallow rasp
of a scar
* * *
tree bark
kissed by wind—
out of the blue
a memory of you
appears
Blithe Spirit 29:4, 2019 (two tanka)
the familiar scent
of lemon oil rubbed
on old wood –
a new cat finds a place
in your empty chair
* * *
on the ground
a nest of hatchlings
fallen from a tree –
how well you always
hid your pain
Modern Haiku, Issue 50:3, 2019
pruning roses
unable to forget her
scarred wrists
The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXI, Number 3: September 2019
dementia
the soft clay begins
to harden
Three tanka were published in the last issue of
Gusts, Contemporary Tanka No. 30, Fall/Winter 2019
as Geminids flit by
in the inky darkness
I pull your jacket tight
around myself
. . . all I have left
∼ ∼ ∼
ripeness
bears its own burden . . .
fragrant peaches
dangle low
bruises a breath away
∼ ∼ ∼
in old growth grass
a newborn fawn
wobbles on spindly legs –
a sure reminder
how brief a season is
KOKAKO 31 , 2019, a journal of the New Zealand Poetry Society
first apricots
the baby’s soft breath
in my ear
~
moonflower
night after night
that same dream
~
barely a whisper
between daylight
and nightfall
when shadows
hide in darkness
2019 Haiku Society of America Members’ Anthology (A Moment’s Longing):
chasing the night—
a falling blossom
graces my tea
Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga
Issue #28, July 2019
powerless
neighbors mingle
after the storm
~
our gods
stand between us
total eclipse
Two senryu and one haiga are in the July issue of Failed Haiku.
Failed Haiku, A Journal of English Senryu
Volume 4, Issue 43
July 2019
abandoned nest
four blue eggs
but no answers
~
vagrant fog
a distant train
slows the night
~
Over the past few months, a lot of my work has been published, but I’ve been negligent in getting them posted. Breaking from my usual tradition of a separate post for each journal, I’m going to post all of them here in a single posting. Separate poems and journals are both divided by ***.
Redlights, Volume 15, No. 2, June 2019
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a day will come
when we are the faces
in old picture albums
and no one left
to give us names
***
babcia’s borscht recipe
in faded black ink—
can you smell the beets
bubble and hear her
hum along
Ribbons Spring/Summer 2019: Volume 15, No. 2
.
PET scan . . .
all the dogs & cats
I ever knew & loved
romp in the tunnel
where I lie in stillness
***
Ribbons Spring/Summer 2019: Volume 15, No. 2
Tanka Café: Theme: What Matters [to You]
they say time
moves faster as we age
yet here I am
stealing an hour
to listen to the birds
***
cattails: The Official Journal of the United Haiku and Tanka Society, April 2019 Issue
.
late winter
the garden’s breath
shifts once more
***
one crow
and a clutch of chickadees
at the birdfeeder —
that simple need
to fit in someplace
***
Frogpond 42.2 * 2019
.
graveside—
white blossoms
lighten the darkness
***
Blithe Spirit 29.2, 2019
.
evening meditation
fireflies flit here
& there
& there
***
.
sacred sites
finding myself praying
in another language
.
***
.
the soft rustle
of quivering aspen leaves
over and over
I replay the words
I might have said
.
***
.
a feeling of you
standing behind me …
when I turn around,
only shadow
only silence
.
***
.
Moonbathing 20 Spring/Summer 2019
.
sea glass
a distant story
told in waves
I long
to read
.
***
.
The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXI, Number 2: June 2019
.
a single brass button—
I try to remember
his voice
***
.
Eucalypt Issue 26, 2019
.
without warning
a leaf rises in the wind
then tumbles—
our need for forgiveness
so unexpected, too
.
(Eucalypt, The Distinctive Scribblings Awards)
***
.
Gusts, Contemporary Tanka No. 29, Spring/Summer 2019
.
faint notes
of a harpsichord
playing Bach –
why is it you always wait
for one wrong note
***
you pour a second cup
of pale moon tea
in a teashop in Prague
. . . I wonder what story
the leaves might tell
***
walking alone
past the tide’s own
push and pull –
I turn to see my footprints
wash away
***
Kokako 30, 2019
.
abbey ruins
voices of evensong
nowhere everywhere
***
old burying ground
so many grave markers
buried too
***
in the coffee shop
a glimpse of someone
who looks just like you—
I quickly check my face
in a mirror
***
dark storm clouds
dissolve in sunlight
and shift again—
your changing moods
just as quick
***
The North Carolina Haiku Society hosts an all-day meeting on the last Saturday of each April. This year marked the 40th year of these days called “Haiku Holiday.” Each of the past 40 years has been hosted by one wonderful poet and woman, Jean Earnhardt
on Bolin Brook Farm, an old farmstead that has been in her family for 12 generations. Can you imagine opening up your home and garden annually to a large group of poets? Jean does so graciously and with a welcoming, inclusive attitude. Thank you, Jean!
“In honor of the 40th anniversary of Haiku Holiday, we read 40 haiku by current and past members of the North Carolina Haiku Society. Crystal Simone-Smith selected the poems and published them as a broadside.” (Dave Russo, the NCHS website Editor)
The Broadside is so beautiful, and it’s an honor to be part of this. My two haiku are listed below. My thanks to Crystal for selecting this to be included.
Haiku Holiday, NCHS, 2019
40 Years, 40 Haiku: A Broadside
Both haiku by Mary Kendall (c) 2019
As Memorial Day approaches, thoughts of all who have sacrificed for our country come to mind. There have been so many wars, so many skirmishes, so many of our service people posted to regions far away from their homeland. The work they do in times of war or in conflict is something that requires a level of courage I don’t have. Yet we can all pay them our deepest respects and honor those who have died as well as those who came home. They have made this country what it is.
This haiku was published in Frogpond 42.1, Winter 2019 (Haiku Society of North America)
Two haiku and one tanka in Blithe Spirit 29.1, 2019
*
ground fog
even birdsong
is invisible
*
wood’s edge –
that inescapable pull
of darkness
*
starlight on
winter branches—
those nagging thoughts
that seem to come
from nowhere
All poems by Mary Kendall
Red Lights, Volume 15, No. 1, January 2019:
Both tanka by Mary Kendall
Modern Haiku, Volume 50.1, Winter-Spring 2019
that look . . .
a skim coat of ice
in the bird bath
Frozen Birdbath with Frozen Ripples (c) Terry Gray
Prune Juice, Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun & Haiga,
Issue 27, March 2019
Edited by Brent Goodman
My deepest thanks to Kate MacQueen for writing this rengay with me. It was a wonderful and illuminating experience to write with Kate. Kate’s verses are #2, 4, 6 (italicized) and mine are #1, 3, 5.
This rengay was published in Vines #3, part of the publication hedgerow edited by Caroline Skanne.
Note: for readers not acquainted with rengay, here is a definition from “Graceguts” by Michael Dylan Welch:
“Garry Gay invented a renga alternative in the summer of 1992: the “rengay.”
“The rengay is a collaborative six-verse linked thematic poem written by two or three poets using alternating three-line and two-line haiku or haiku-like stanzas in a regular pattern. The pattern for two people is A-3, B-2, A-3, B-3, A-2, B-3, with the letters representing the poets, and the numbers indicating the number of lines in each given verse.”
Presence Issue #62, 2018
scraping ice ferns
off the windows
of our old jalopy –
such fragile beauty
soon pushed aside
Photo by eddy on ‘Unsplash’
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.
Skylark, Tanka Journal 12,
Winter 2018 (6:2)
black feathers
scattered
under a bush—
the unspoken truth
gone forever
~
in an old book
a letter, ‘address unknown’
a million miles away
a new star is born,
another dies
Moonbathing, A Journal of Women’s Tanka,
Issue 19, Fall/Winter 2018
indigo ink
on vellum paper—
all those dreams
of making a different life
for myself
Blithe Spirit, Journal of the British Haiku Society,
Volume 28 Number 4, November 2018
~
Milky Way by Felix Mittermeier
2.
Photo by Pezibear (Pixabay)
Blithe Spirit, Journal of the British Haiku Society,
Volume 28 Number 4, November 2018
Three tanka were published in Blithe Spirit this past November:
Snow Landscape by Hans Braxmeier
winter woodland
bereft of birdsong
with your passing
even clear days
are shadowed
Photo by Frantisek Krejci
together so long
we seem to finish
one another’s sentences,
fluent in the pauses
of each other’s mind
Universe by Gerd Altmann
loneliness
comes and goes,
dancing around
my mind
with two left feet
Part 2:
Prune Juice, A Journal of Senryu, Kyoka,
Haibun and Haiga,
Issue 26 – November 2018
Four Senryu:
reproach –
finding a way back
from heated words
~
overanalyzing–
the smell of wood smoke
on the wind
~
winter walk
learning to negotiate
what can’t be seen
~
the house
where I was born
weeds & more weeds
Photograph by Marina Shemesh
Prune Juice, A Journal of Senryu, Kyoka, Haibun and Haiga,
Issue 26 – November 2018
~
photography by Mary Kendall
Highgate Cemetery, London
Photograph by Mary Kendall,
Blackwood Farm, Hillsborough, North Carolina
~
My deepest thanks to Steve Hodge, editor. This was his last issue as editor of Prune Juice. It has been a joy and a wonderful learning experience working with Steve as an editor.
Cover art by Chase Gagnon (c) 2018
Here is the link to the full issue of this amazing journal. It includes the amazing prize winners of the Jane Reichhold Memorial Haiga Competition for 2018 (edited by Steve Hodge and Michael Rehling), pdf: pj-26-rev
website: https://prunejuice.wordpress.com
This tanka is dedicated it to all who have dealt with the trauma
of childhood sexual abuse.
he believed
himself omnipotent…
the innocence
of so many children
dissolved in a moment
Photograph by Circe Denyer
Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal,
Issue 25, 2018
It’s a great honor to have had this tanka published in Eucalypt. My thanks to editor, Julie Anne Thorndyke for selecting this particular poem.
.
Ribbons, the Journal of the Tanka Society of America Fall 2018: Volume 14, Number 3
the long scar
down your chest
almost healed —
so hard to forget
you almost disappeared
Ribbons, the Journal of the Tanka Society of America
Fall 2018: Volume 14, Number 3
My first time in this journal.
Haiku Canada Review, October 2018
hospice window
cherry blossoms
fade and fall
Acorn: A Journal of Contemporary Haiku (issue 41), October 2018:
frayed feathers
beneath the dogwood tree
silence
Well, somehow I missed this, a tanka published in Eucalypt, one of the finest tanka journals out there. Eucalypt is published in Australia, the home of a great number of brilliant tanka poets. It’s always a great feeling having a poem published in this journal.
My thanks to Julie Thorndike, the editor.
Eucalypt, Spring issue 2018:
how it begins
this love of beauty . . .
a little girl touches
each coloured heart
on grandma’s quilt
“Stacked Hearts” by Planted Seed Designs
One tanka published in:
cattails, October 2018 Issue
The Official Journal of the United Haiku and Tanka Society
told not to tell
or be a bother
a child soon finds
a world of her own
silence
In that silence, poems are born.
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
cattails, October 2018 Issue
The Official Journal of the United Haiku and Tanka Society
black swan
the beauty
in difference
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
Three tanka published in one my very favorite journals.
GUSTS No. 28, Contemporary Tanka
(fall/winter 2018)
pounding rains
& the peonies are lost –
how did I miss
your pallor, your reticence
that last day?
turning from pale gold
to dusky violet
our last embrace
so certain
so final
rain patter
on windows –
just when it seems
the darkness is over
it all begins again
My thanks to my friend, poet and editor, Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy for writing this tanka sequence, “Changing Notes,” with me. It was published in Kokako 29, a journal of the Poetry Society of New Zealand.
Changing Notes
A Responsive Tanka Sequence
by
Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy (UK) and Mary Kendall (USA)
glass bangles
tinkling with laughter
rice grains
strewn on the newlyweds
seeding a new dream
(SK)
such longing
month after month
turning to years
suddenly the emptiness
disappears
(MK)
the curve of his hand
cups the moon
quickening
the one butterfly
aflutter in my belly
(SK)
watching
the fragile pulse
of his fontanelle
and those half smiles
in his milky dreams
(MK)
rocking horse
hither and thither
the long curls
of sun-kissed memories
braided into birdsong
(SK)
one day his son will chatter
in a different tongue
raven locks
eased into smoothness
. . . a new chosen land
(MK)
Photo: aperture art blur/Pixabay
My thanks to my friend and fellow poet, Iliyana Stoyanova
for writing this tanka sequence with me.
Blithe Spirit, the Journal of the British Haiku Society, August 2018
ONE FRAME AT A TIME
A Tanka Sequence
by Mary Kendall (USA) and Iliyana Stoyanova (UK)
camera in hand
you tame the world
click by click …
living your life
one frame at a time
(MK)
the old album
asleep in dust
for all these years
the last two pages
stuck together
(IS)
so alike
everyone said
we could be twins
but then one day
a letter arrived
(MK)
through the open windows
spring wind…
by the ballerina box
my old ribbons tangled
like childhood memories
(IS)
in my hands now
a forty-year-old picture
of an unknown aunt
a tiny birthmark
same as my own
(MK)
Photo from Freeimages.com
A Poet in Time 