The Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh, 1889, Museum of Modern Art, NYC
The Starry Night
It is silent tonight.
In the ever flowing
river of the night,
a boat of darkness
sails by
as wave upon wave
of stars flow,
then crest,
then
fall,
and silently subside,
consumed by another wave
until nothing is left,
just flickering light
of celestial glowworms
that hang
in the cave of night—
languid star strands
from the heavens.
The moon
could tell stories
if it chose.
It is silent tonight.
Chairs in Luxembourg Gardens, Paris by Mary Kendall
In Luxembourg Gardens, Paris
A stairwell of shadows invites us to sit.
Empty chairs bask in the late spring sun,
Waiting for readers who choose to sit,
slipping into the borrowed lives of books.
Waiting for lovers to pull two chairs aside,
stealing time away from the world.
Waiting for an old man with a limping dog,
passing time away from his silent rooms.
Waiting for the widow who longs for the sun,
savoring the warmth like a delicate embrace.
Waiting for the disheveled girl who waits,
sipping a café crème with a guarded look.
Waiting for a businessman to eat his lunch,
savoring silence, no rumble of demands.
Waiting for the grandpère missing his children,
wondering what it is they do continents away.
Waiting for weary tourists who sit and rest,
whispering in languages you don’t speak.
Waiting for a tumble of clouds to sweep the sky
just as this sweet day slips into the waiting night.
Time passes.
People pass.
Memories pass.
Another day will come.
Forget-Me-Not by SarahharaS1 (c) 2013
~
Don’t Forget Me When I’m Gone
~~
Don’t forget me when I’m gone.
I’ll be there thinking about you.
Don’t forget me in my silence.
I’ll bring you back a poem.
Don’t forget me when you’re sad.
I’ll be ready to understand your tears.
Don’t forget me when life is good.
I’ll be happy to laugh along with you.
Don’t forget me if the glass breaks.
I’ll be there to sweep up the shards.
Don’t forget me when you doubt.
I’ll listen to your words spill out.
Don’t forget me in the dark.
I’ll bring you a small violet star.
Don’t forget me when I leave.
I’ll return. I always will
Forget-Me-Not, photograph by Flowers HD.com
Haiga by Mary Kendall
This was written for a prompt on the spring equinox for a favorite small poem poetry group I belong to called “seize the poem.” I’m enjoying creating this mix of haiku and photography, and I think I finally got the words correctly balanced on the picture, so I’m sharing it here as well. The photo is my own taken in the sculpture garden of the Rodin Museum in Paris this month.
This poem began in a meadow up in the Scottish Highlands while my husband and I were visiting the ruins of a castle. He went inside to explore further, but I chose to stay behind and linger in the beautiful summer fields. As you have probably experienced yourself, this frequently leads the imagination to so many new places. It also presents an opportunity for a simple sensory awareness meditation. Just standing there looking and listening is a spiritual act in itself.
The challenge for me in this poem was to use a repeating word (“listen”) to create both mood and cadence in the lines. The decision to complete the poem with a repeating line (or couplet) was a very different way to close my own lyrical love song to nature.
[Note: the following two paragraphs were added here several months later when the poem was published by Dagda Publishing Company.]
On 3 March 2015, Dagda Publishing Company, a publisher of poetry and literature based in Nottingham, UK, featured this poem in their blog. It was a real honor to have had my poem chosen by this excellent publisher. This is what they had to say about the poem:
Today’s featured poem, and the first one in March, is this one from Mary Kendall. Inspired by a trip to Scotland, this piece has a naturalistic theme to it, and we feel is just perfect for this time of year, as we start to escape the cold and dark of winter and crawl toward summer and longer days. Musing upon the sounds of nature and imagining a song being sung by the choir of trees, flowers and the meadow itself, this piece has a touch of magical realism to it, of there being something fantastical just behind the ordinary and everyday. A poem full of the wonder of nature and the sense of being away from the familiarity of one’s normal life, we hope you enjoy this poem by Mary Kendall.
An audio clip of me reading this poem is included below. Click on the link below to hear it. It will take a few seconds to begin.
Meadow Song
Have you ever been a few thousand miles from somewhere,
standing in meadow of sweet grass or barley and thistles,
bright pink bells of foxglove swaying in the wind,
and then you stop, just standing still and listening;
listening to the wind song of the leaves and grasses.
I asked them to tell me the words they sang to those
who stopped to listen. They heard me and replied,
but I could not understand what it was they said.
I waited and waited until the wind resumed its blowing,
the grasses their gentle whispering;
the leaves sang loudest of all, and I listened.
I listened the while.
I listened until the song ended,
and then I went on my way.
So far from home.
So far from home.
A Poet in Time 