Monday, August 27, 2012


Mists of water fall
and fall. No damp squirrel, no
bird, no elm leaf stirs.
Elm leaves and their lean
branches droop, pulled down
by a weight of rain.
In silhouette, sparse
leaves and lean branches etch themselves
against wet grey sky.

a cycle of three haiku

Thursday, August 09, 2012

Brilliance Afield

Brilliance Afield

Burning the wild lands, the moon rises gold; gold the eyes of wolves
Running in a rapid crouch up the snowy hill.  Exhaling,
I slip into the aspens, follow their tracks into a threshold of
Light under the firs.  The moon squats fat among them. I
Linger and watch, afraid.  Discard the fantasy that
I could be accepted, that I could be safe, that I could run.  With them.
A screech of owl cries. Wolves sing: close chorus, far response.
Nothing contains the fierce sacredness of this music.  I want to
Call back from this hidden body.  I pluck a tuft of fur from a drift,
Embrace bare branches, moon-bruised sky.  In

A cloud-smudged mirror of ice, shadows flicker, a broke
Face of moon shimmers.  I whisper: elk, caribou, antelope.  Stubbornly,
I reclaim the dream of hunting with the wolves.  Oh folly!  Will I return to this
Evening over and over, sifting through these images, lies and dreams?
Late-night owl calls again.  Wolf tracks fade in drifting snow.  I glimpse
Deer, then fox.  Braid my tracks into theirs.

1)This is an Acrostic poem. Acrostics are often used as games or doggerel. I have chosen here to attempt a serious acrostic poem. 
2)I would like to invite anyone interested to "play along" by writing serious (or not-so serious) acrostic poems and then posting the links in my comments section. I am sure you all know that in an acrostic poem, the first letter of each line creates a word when read vertically. It is a fun way to write about love or friendship or any other topic.
3)Poem and art by me, Mary Stebbins Taitt, published in Avocet. I'd love to think all of you subscribe to Avocet and have already read my poem, but I am guessing that is not the case. Because published poems are often read only by those who subscribe, I think I may post one of my published poems, maybe once a week, to share them with you. I hope that's OK.

Monday, July 23, 2012

Botanical Gardens
Golden Gate Park
San Francisco, California
photo by me
click image to view larger

Haiku: What the Heart Feels

What the heart feels when
anger and hatred are set
aside: love, peace, joy.

Yes, I know this is not a traditional haiku.
And NO I do NOT know what the flowers are, please enlighten me.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Poppies in Rain
Acrylic on Paper
by me, Mary Stebbins Taitt

From the Dark Centers of Flowers

Sometimes, I journey into darkness
while every shadow harbors a malevolent bat
whose wings reach out, sticky as spider webs
to trap me.
It’s a lovely day, friends say, trying
to cheer me. The sun shines; its warmth
caresses my skin, but in the shade, bats gather,
gnashing their teeth as their claws grow pointy.
When I bend to smell the flowers, the bats
ambush me. They pour from the center
of each blossom like flying monkeys,
like a plague of locusts.
When they eat holes in me, I am moth-eaten;
I am Swiss cheese. I am lace curtains
blackened by coal-fired ovens. I am despair.
The sun shines through me.
I am a pattern of light.

Mary Stebbins Taitt
location: Detroit, San Francisco
photosource: me (acrylic painting) (detail from "the Misunderstanding")