Summer 2009
Volume 3 Number 4
Modern English Tanka
ISSN 1932-9083 Print
ISSN 1930-8132 Digital
Denis M . G arrison, Editor
M ichael M cClintock, Contributing Editor
M
O DERN
E
NGLISH
T
ANKA
P
RESS
Post O ffice Box 43717, Baltimore, Maryland 21236 USA
www.themetpress.com publisher@ themetpress.com
M odern English Tanka - Sum m er 2009 - Vol. 3, N o. 4
Copyright © 2009 by Modern English Tanka Press.
Cover Art, “M idnight Poetry Jam,” © 2009 by Karen M cClintock.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems
without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers and scholars
who may quote brief passages.
M o d e r n E n g lis h T a n ka
, a quarterly print & digital journal, is dedicated to
publishing and promoting fine English tanka.
M ET
is interested in both traditional
and innovative verse of high quality and in all serious attempts to assimilate the best
of the Japanese waka/tanka genres into a continuously developing English short
verse tradition.
M odern English Tanka – Summer 2009 – Vol. 3, No. 4
Published by M ODERN ENGLISH TANKA PRESS.
Print Edition: ISSN 1932-9083
Digital Edition: ISSN 1930-8132 [PDF & HTM L] www.themetpress.com/M ET/
EDUCAT IO NAL USE NO T ICE
MODERN ENGLISH TANKA PRESS, Baltimore, Maryland, USA, publisher of the quarterly
journal,
Modern English Tanka
, is dedicated to poetry education in schools and colleges, at every
level. It is our intention and our policy to facilitate the use of
Modern English Tanka
and related
materials to the maximum extent feasible by educators at every level of school and university
studies. Educators, without individually seeking permission from the publisher, may use
Modern
English Tanka
publications, online digital editions and print editions, as primary or ancillary
teaching resources. Copyright law “Fair Use” guidelines and doctrine should be interpreted very
liberally with respect to
Modern English Tanka
precisely on the basis of our explicitly stated intention
herein. This statement may be cited as an effective permission to use
Modern English Tanka
as a text
or resource for studies. Proper attribution of any excerpt to
Modern English Tanka
is required. This
statement applies equally to digital resources and print copies of the journal. Individual copyrights
of poets, authors, artists, etc., published in
Modern English Tanka
are their own property and are not
meant to be compromised in any way by the journal’s liberal policy on “Fair Use.” Any educator
seeking clarification of our policy for a particular use may email the Editor of
Modern English Tanka
,
at dmg@themetpress.com. We welcome innovative uses of our resources for poetry education.
C O N T E N T S
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Volume 3, Number 4
7
1. The New M ET
, editorial by Denis M . Garrison.
8
2. D efining Tanka— D efinition of the ideal form of traditional tanka written in English
by Amelia Fielden, Denis M . Garrison, and Robert D. W ilson. Commentary
by the editor.
12
The Three Back Cover Tanka
by the editor.
13
TANKA
15
Hortensia Anderson
17
Megan Arkenberg
19
Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah
20
Pamela A. Babusci & Paul Smith
22
Raquel D. Bailey
23
Jim Bainbridge
24
Jon Baldwin
27
Tom Blessing
29
Elizabeth Bodien
31
Jerry Bolick
33
Shawn Bowman
34
Carmella Braniger
36
Owen Bullock
40
Owen Bullock & Beverley George
43
Miriam Chaikin
45
Keith Chopping
46
Charlotte Digregorio
48
Susan Diridoni
49
Marje A. Dyck
51
Amelia Fielden
52
Deborah Finkelstein
53
Bernard Gieske
55
Sanford Goldstein
60
Margaret L. Grace
62
C W Hawes
70
Elizabeth Howard
72
Geoff Hughes
76
Roger Jones
80
_kala
82
Kirsty Karkow
84
M. Kei
89
Larry Kimmel
92
Larry Kimmel & Ai Li
98
Joseph V. Kleponis
99
Dubravko Korbus
100
Don LaM ure
102
Chen-ou Liu
105
Bob Lucky
111
Nulty Lynch
112
Mary M ageau
113
John M artell
115
Terra M artin
119
Francis M asat
122
Giselle M aya & Beverley George
126
Michael M cClintock
130
Dave M oore
133
Aju Mukhopadhyay
135
Kathe L. Palka
136
Simon Palfrey
137
Jade Pandora
140
Stephen A. Peters
142
Dru Philippou
147
Patricia Prime
159
Kiersta Recktenwald
167
David Rice
168
Alexis Rotella
171
Adelaide B. Shaw
178
Radhey Shiam
180
Billy Simms
185
Guy Simser
188
Paul Smith
192
John Soules
194
André Surridge
202
James Tipton
204
Liam W ilkinson
206
Robert D. W ilson
210
Geoffrey W inch
213
ARTICLES & REVIEWS
215
Blue N ight & the inadequacy of long-stemmed roses (Second Edition with The
Temperature of Love)
by Larry Kimmel, review by Alexis Rotella.
219
Take Five: Best Contemporary Tanka
, edited by M . Kei, et. al., review by Liam
Wilkinson.
222
All the Horses of Heaven / Todos los Caballos del Paraíso
, Tanka by James Tipton,
review by Jeffrey Woodward.
227
Doorway to the Sky
, tanka written by Noriko Tanaka, translated by Amelia
Fielden and Saeko O gi, review by Denis M . Garrison
229
A Poetic Guide to an Ancient Capital: Aizu Yaichi and the City of N ara
by M ichael
F. M arra and
Seasons and Landscapes in Japanese Poetry:
An Introduction to
Haiku
and
W aka
, by M ichael F. M arra, review by Denis M . Garrison.
232
Recent Titles from Modern English Tanka Press & Forthcoming titles from Modern
English Tanka Press.
233
Contributors.
241
Tanka Venues, with abbreviations.
C o v e r a r t , “ M id n ig h t P o e t r y J a m ,” b y K a r e n M c C lin t o c k.
1. The New
MET
As we announced in our editorial in the last issue,
Modern English Tanka
is
making some changes beginning with the next issue, Autumn 2009. A number
of readers and contributors have written in with their input, insights, and
suggestions. Overall, the reaction to the proposed changes has been positive.
We have published all the submissions guidelines changes on the
MET
website,
on the Submissions page. They are also included in our call for submissions for
the Autumn 2009 issue.
A tighter focus on individual tanka, per se, and on quality is the nature of the
changes. We are no longer soliciting nor accepting tanka sets, sequences, strings,
tanka prose, collaborations, etc.; we seek top quality individual tanka. In support
of this goal, we have reduced the number of tanka to a maximum of 20
submitted for any issue. Please note:
MET
continues to solicit tanka in all styles,
from the most innovative to the most traditional; we publish the entire range.
The “Articles & Essays” section has been eliminated entirely, insofar as other
journals and venues (including other MET Press journals) are covering that
subject matter sufficiently. For the same reason, the “Book Notes & Reviews”
section in its present form has been eliminated as well. However, the new
MET
will continue to publish a section entitled “Tanka Publications” in which brief,
bibliographic style, announcements of recent publications will be made. Please
refer to the online submission guidelines for the details. We will accept “Tanka
Publications” submissions right up to press time.
Bio sketches will be limited to 50 words. Please submit your bio sketch written
in the third person. Please do not write book or journal titles in ALL CAPS and
please be sure your bio is up to date when you send in your submission.
As a result of these changes, the journal will be shorter—closer to 120 pages,
usually. It will be comprised of editorials, tanka, publications notes, and the end-
pages. While I have enjoyed the massive 250-260 page issues as much as anyone
else, I think poets will be able to shine a little more brightly in the shortened
journal. Per copy prices and subscriptions prices have been reduced, of course.
It is our intention, our plan, and our hope to bring readers a streamlined new
Modern English Tanka
. Please do not hesitate to let us know how we are doing.
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
7
2. Defining Tanka
Then, there is the matter of the definition of tanka. As we have written, “we are
not going to promulgate any definition authoritatively, not that we could if we
wished to do so. However, we also are not going to dodge the very real
concerns over the definition of tanka in English. The question of tanka
formalism must be faced and addressed.” The product of a collegial project to
do just that was first published in May by
Simply Haiku
. As promised, here it is
for
MET
readers, with a few comments.
Definition of the ideal form of
traditional tanka written in English.
Parameters of Definition:
C
“Ideal form” - We are not attempting in this paper to define a strict
prosody to be followed formulaically, viz., for the production of tanka
in accordance with a slavishly followed rule or style. Rather, we seek to
describe the prosody of tanka that may be confidently utilized, by
learners of tanka writing, as an exemplar faithful to tradition, albeit
adopted for English, and that may be considered a baseline from which
to begin writing tanka. Such a form is “ideal” inasmuch as a poem that
complies with such prosody would meet the formal definition of
traditional tanka written in English. On the other hand, we consider
that, if the fundamentals of traditional tanka prosody are ignored,
discarded, or subverted by any poet, the resultant quintain cannot fit
the definition of a “traditional tanka written in English.”
C
“Traditional tanka written in English” - Our concern in this paper is
with poems written first in English which are intended to be in the
form of traditional Japanese tanka. While there are linguistic and
orthographic differences between Japanese and English that cannot be
fully resolved, we believe that it is possible to follow the centuries-old
waka/tanka formal poetic tradition to a substantial and meaningful
degree. We do not seek to define nor deal with avant garde innovations
based on tanka in this paper, nor do we seek to restrain poetic
experimentation by any poet. The definition we offer should be taken
for what it is intended to be, no more and no less.
8
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Seven essential guidelines for writing “traditional tanka in English” in
the ideal form.
1.
Five lines. The form for English tanka (which is both singular and
plural) is an untitled and unrhymed quintain.
2.
Set syllable count. From 19 to 31 English syllables are permissible.
3.
The syllabic length of lines is set, which creates the traditional rhythm.
A.
A short/long/short/long/long syllabic pattern is ideal.
B.
Syllable counts may vary from a maximum of 5/7/5/7/7
down to a minimum of 3/5/3/5/5, ideally; but some flexibility
within the s/l/s/l/l pattern is acceptable, e.g., 4/6/3/5/6 or
3/5/4/5/7, etc.
4.
Diction: Use natural English phrasing on each line with no (or very
minimal) enjambment. Do not end a line with ‘a’ or ‘the’; avoid ending
a line with a preposition. Ideally, each line is one poetic utterance
ending with a caesura; this is often referred to as “five phrases on five
lines.”
5.
Japanese tanka build and build. They do not fall away like some English
poetic utterances. The 5th line of a traditional tanka is the most
important and significant line. Therefore that 5th line should ideally be
at least as long as the 2nd and/or 4th lines. Sometimes the 5th line can
be syllabically a little shorter than line 2 or 4, providing it is a ‘strong’
line in meaning and/or utterance, or continues in the reader’s mind,
e.g., with an ellipsis (e.g., “so she waited ...” might be okay, in the
context of the rest of the tanka). A one or two syllable 5th line is not
permissible.
6.
A certain amount of ambiguity/dreaming room/ma can be a desirable
quality but complete obscurity is not desirable.
7.
The content/theme/subject is wide-open, but tanka is lyric verse and
should not be didactic. For example, a “polemic tanka” is self-contra-
dictory.
This definition is Copyright © 2009 by Amelia Fielden (Australia), Denis M . Garrison
(USA), and Robert D. Wilson (The Philippines). Reprinting and publication of this
definition, with proper attribution, is expressly permitted by the copyright-holders.
Further permission requests are not required.
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
9
Commentary
After Robert D. Wilson, one of the authors of this definition, rolled it out in
Simply Haiku
online journal, there was considerable discussion, both publicly
and privately. The discussion was
animated
, to say the least. However, it did not
move the authors of this definition (Amelia Fielden, Robert Wilson and myself)
to adopt any changes to the definition.
Many comments were in the “how dare you” vein. We
did
dare to define the
ideal form of a traditional tanka written in English. What more is there to say
to such complaints? We have not claimed to be tanka masters nor gurus. On the
other hand, our individual and joint experience in tanka is not negligible.
Some comments were about aspects of tanka that perhaps should have been
included in the definition. My reaction is that, interesting as those aspects are,
they are matters of technique rather than fundamentals of identity. This is and
was intended to be a very limited definition of an ideal of form.
It was suggested that discussing the tanka aesthetic might be more useful than
discussing form. In the great scheme of things, this is probably true. However,
the exercise was a definition of form. Likewise, suggestions that we should be
defining the new English tanka instead of traditional tanka in English are true
enough, but simply not on topic. We defined traditional tanka in English to help
newcomers find a baseline, a benchmark, from which they can begin to make
some sense out of the great variety of new English tanka.
Some discussion was on our use of the word “traditional.” Some see the newer
varieties of English tanka as “our tradition.” We used the word “traditional” in
its generic and widely understood meaning; not as a specialist term of art. This
definition is meant to be of use to newcomers to tanka, not to specialists.
The argument that defining “traditional tanka in English” as we did somehow
de-values or invalidates innovative, avant-garde tanka in English is one that
cannot be dealt with empirically. We said explicitly:
“We do not seek to define nor deal with avant garde innovations
based on tanka in this paper, nor do we seek to restrain poetic
experimentation by any poet. The definition we offer should be taken
for what it is intended to be, no more and no less.”
In my view, the definition must be taken as a whole. To take parts of the
definition as authoritative while totally ignoring other parts leads to error. As to
the
implications
of the definition, everyone is free to draw their own.
10
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
There was a series of discussions on the matter of enjambment. While they were
at times off-topic in that enjambment’s use in new English tanka became the
issue, nevertheless they revealed a need for closer inquiry into this particular
aspect of the definition. Speaking only for myself, I see no place for
enjambment when writing traditional tanka in English, while for new English
tanka, I am slightly less strict. In any case, I am at the far end of the spectrum
of opinion in this specific aspect and think it is only fair to go on record as such.
In my personal view, the one-line five-part Japanese tanka translates into a five-
line English tanka in which each line is a distinct individual part which, I believe,
militates against the use of enjambment. Just my opinion. This is what I mean
to convey whenever I use the “five phrases on fine lines” rubric to define tanka.
The comment was made that we should have emphasized the unitary wholeness
of tanka, viz., that the lines of a tanka must create a unified poem. I most
certainly agree with this criterion. Whether it need be included in a bare-bones
definition of fundamental form, I am not so sure, but it is a point for
consideration in future.
In summary, I continue to stand by the definition of the ideal form of
traditional tanka written in English as published. It is meant to be a baseline, a
benchmark, a starting place. Anyone who can do better is sincerely and cordially
invited to do so. All those who have taken some shots at our definition are
people whom I consider friends and whose opinions I respect and value. What
tanka in English is, has been, and will be, is a question asked, not an answer
found. I hope the questioning will proceed apace.
Postscript just for MET Readers:
What does all this mean for the editorial
policies of
Modern English Tanka
? Very little, if anything. I have long
held these opinions; it is the enunciation of them in an agreed-
statement definition that is new.
MET
publishes the entire spectrum of
tanka from traditional to avant-garde—always has and always will. No
matter what style of tanka you write and/or read, it is welcome in
MET
. We judge tanka by its intrinsic poetic qualities, not by its
compliance with any definition or any set of rules or guidelines. We
involve ourselves in theoretical poetics only in support of clarifying an
ancient poetic tradition for newcomers to it. That is part of our mission
of promoting tanka poetry.
—
Denis M. Garrison, editor
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
11
The Three Back Cover Tanka
Below are this issue’s three tanka chosen for the back cover of the print edition. O ur
congratulations to these fine poets on their excellent verses.
I go to meet him,
these hands brimming
with poems
running over and
spilling around my feet
— M. Kei
thin streaks
of morning fog rise from
the winter field
cigarette smoke
hanging in the sun
— Tom Blessing
when he’s away,
I’m a june bug
banging
against a screen
on a summer’s night
— Jade Pandora
12
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
T A N K A
Hortensia Anderson
vestiges
of sunlight -
we embrace
between darkening clouds
an evening edged in gold
I dream I can breathe
beneath the emerald sea -
a grain of sand,
cradled in my oyster bed
covered by mother of pearl
the wind blows
through blossoming plum -
how fragrant
these blushing love notes
scattered on the grass
candlelight
glows in the darkness -
a luna moth,
I yearn to singe my wings
in flames of passion
a summer moon
hangs from a peach tree branch
so low and close
its ripe and juicy sweetness
seem within my grasp...
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
15
Hortensia Anderson
summer night -
is it the driftwood in flames
I see in your eyes
or the reflection
of the glow I have in mine?
the winding road
of childhood has overgrown
with clusters of grapes;
hacking my way through the vines,
the fruits of labour are sweet
16
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Megan Arkenberg
having watched you write
poetry on the blackboard
I dream tonight
of drinking water
from your chalky hands
wanting
the color of you
I have instead
this faded armchair
this cup of faded tea
cool dark glass
of the bus-stop window
this realization
that all I feel for you
is everything
late spring
and still no sign
of thaw
you tell me I love you
in all the wrong ways
a sprig of mint
and curling lemon rind
in my empty cup
but your tartness
never lingers
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
17
Megan Arkenberg
you think with feeling
and not with reason
foolish heart
if you were a man
I would leave you
18
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah
June gloom
cutting an orange from any angle
I am walking in Paris with you
probably Taiwanese woman
should I ask for your name
lily of lilies
yes my lily
I have remembered
how I used to cross the bamboo bridge
in the night with yoghurt
a tray of clouds
darting from one corner to another
the whole town slows down
with drawn lines of traffic
at sunset
in coldness
she opens the poem
and begins to eat
I am looking
outside
the committee
sit down this time
to write New Year’s first tanka
a welcome address
to the prisoners
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
19
Pam e la A. B ab u s c i
& Paul Smith
Aw ake B e fo re Daw n
awake before dawn
I run my fingers through her hair
as she sleeps
and wonder where it will lead
this insatiable desire
the last of the rose petals
fall on the bed
he travels
her galaxy of endless rivers
where he floats for days
watching clouds
drift across the face
of the moon -
right here, right now
I know she’s the one
like a pink lotus
opening
under saffron stars
she spills her moonlight
across his heart
at their favourite spot
on the beach
watching waves roll in
not a word between them
none needed
____________________
20
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Pamela A. Babusci &
Pau l Sm ith
Ro u te 66
won’t you ride with me
down Route 66
into endless
blue horizons with the
convertible top down?
along this road of dreams
so many voices
ahead of us
countless souls
lost and found
we are all looking
for something, someone
to believe in
i tear a page from the bible
& scatter it to the wind
at the pitstop
a stone Buddha
covered in dust
smiles
but has nothing to say
wordlessly we cross
the midnight desert
leaving
a flame of stars
in the rearview mirror
____________________
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
21
Raquel D. Bailey
floating
in my half empty glass
a half moon
as I reflect
on my sinking dreams
in her song
sorrow kept pouring
like monsoon rain in my cup
and it filled my ears
this black summer night
rising from the earth
new hyacinths
to replace the old
a toddler asks
“So when’s grandpa coming back?”
late afternoon stroll
humming to myself
I ignore bird calls
taking the same path as me
and the setting sun
I am a seashell,
sitting by the shoreline
waiting for someone
to notice my beauty
and make me theirs
22
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Jim Bainbridge
Carbon cycles when
through pink-stained fragrant spring air
sun-stunned blossoms fall
and dragonflies hunt flies, their
micacious wings aflutter.
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
23
Jon Baldwin
.
..th e fig h t...
shadow boxing
the mirror
his demon
himself
versus himself
old hands
wrap bandage round
young hands
the tape tight
between knuckles
feigning
indifference
his name
mispronounced
by the m.c.
they stare
seeing eyes
being seen
the battle
not to blink
even before
the bell has ended
a toll
the first punch
tossed
24
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Jon Baldwin
falling short
with his jab
short again
the fighter stretches
out his jaw
inside a clinch
the romance
of violence
the sweet smell
of energy
walking
onto a punch
from deep
inside the crowd
a shriek
he parts them
the referee
prises
a third man
inside two men
deep breathing
the corner man shows him
how to do it
the wisdom of
breathing deep
on the stool
sweat wiped
from shoulders
two eyes or more
look upwards for hope
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
25
Jon Baldwin
a grease glob
swells an eyebrow
the boxer
bites down hard
on his gum shield
could’ve
taken out this pair
could’ve
the ringside eye
of the ex-champ
the silver stiletto
of a round card girl
catches on the canvas
first job this year
for the part-time model
just a trickle
of crimson
just a trickle
the warrior’s face
a warrior’s fate
the spot light
on red gloves
the spot light
in tears
of sweat
right hook
spray cloud
a dipping
of knees
a change of mind ______________________
26
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Tom Blessing
thin streaks
of morning fog rise from
the winter field
cigarette smoke
hanging in the sun
alone at night
he fingers his rosary
to the rumble
of log trucks
on the highway
my southern friend
talks of crocus blooms
here
they are only a dream
beneath the snow
from beneath
your old hoodie
your red hair
your blue eyes try
not to smile
each morning
he sits and rings a bell
three times
snow slides from the roof
spring comes unnoticed
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
27
Tom Blessing
in the blizzard
what was our life
is folded
white into
white
beside the road
coyote and raven share
a deer
who has gone
somewhere else
from its hole
in the toast the frying egg
looks back at me
a bit of sun
on this snowy day
28
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Elizabeth Bodien
old women
gather in spring
at their friend’s grave
by the whispering sea
for her sake, and theirs
the furrowed bark
of the butternut tree
in morning light
I wish my wrinkles
would look as good
an old game
among your belongings
the cards dog-eared
your hands that held them
do so no longer
full moon --
howling in the dark forest
a lone coyote
in my white lace nightgown
I step out, to join in
if I were to choose
a picture of your kindness:
your smile
as you gave up your coat
that chill winter night
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
29
Elizabeth Bodien
grandmother
brushes and braids her hair
for the night
the moon in her window
everything silver
reading the old words --
the Book of Common Prayer
I am lifted
to some place where
it is meet and right
the sharp point
of this yellow pencil
ready for paper
invites me to write
-- what words are waiting?
winter turns to spring
these long gaps between your calls
I fill with worry
the seasons have not changed
my love for you
your voice
so gravelly
this morning
what rough roads did you travel
in your sleep?
30
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Jerry Bolick
Above the fog-fingered ridge line,
the promise of blue sky
holds, quiet awaiting
one of the myriad moves
to more
Out there somewhere on early air
woodpeckers’ clatter
of seemingly distant concerns
somehow sound of comfort,
of work being done.
With the end in sight
the path clears of itself,
so many troublesome leaves tossed,
now unexpectedly buoyed
in soft puffs of gladness.
At the curb,
in front of Starbuck’s on Shattuck,
the acacia bends,
many feathered leaves turning
always advancing currents.
Pulled in, pulled
softly in
gentle formality
melting
all resistance.
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
31
Jerry Bolick
Just the other side the window
leaves dance
multi-colored morning light,
acacia limbs
rush muffled winds.
32
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Shawn Bowman
indelible,
black ink tattoos
the page
which I know
I must crumple
strawberry pattern
on a plastic tablecloth
will my art
ever sell
at the five and dimes
this time around
there is no separation
of cardboards and plastics
I recycle, recycle, recycle
my apathy
let’s have one about joy—
do you see the problem,
one about joy,
we easily could have said
two or three
to touch
your own fingers together
is still touching Mother Nature
I can almost see her
in teary eyed delight
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
33
Carmella Braniger
her fingers trace
flakes of frost
along the window
her name
then mine
empty field
hawk eyes
piercing stillness
i breathe in
and out again
everyone asleep
arms reach night
savasana
muscle hugging bone
letting go
along the road
a mountain lion
dead
our desire
too strong
pomegranate
pearls fall
through fingers
i dream
in crimson red
34
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Carmella Braniger
my body
a ghost
roaming these halls
a seed of new life
harbored inside
slip of snow
veils
stiff coyote
too hungry
for this cold
in the bright sun
her slight squint
blinks out
the worries ahead
the sorrows behind
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
35
Owen Bullock
the faintest
flicker of her eyelash
as I hold up
a melon and ask
how much
a father spouts
platitudinous rubbish
about God -
I want to
eat his cake!
on TV
bodies and murders
news &
results of the latest
reality shows
the kitten
twirling a cushion
chasing its tail -
so much to do
these rainy days
there’s no prospect
that a man working
all his life
with a shovel
could refill this mine
36
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Owen Bullock
a dragonfly
a cabbage butterfly
the world carries on
as usual -
but I have no usual
even though
I now believe
she’s fond of me
perhaps it’s best to be alone—
cicadas chorus
having to accept
I’m just a man
and not
a man and a woman -
day becomes night
could I
love again?
the shadow
of a hawk
over the verandah
when we were courting
we sat on the rocks
and watched the waves
for hours -
never fishing
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
37
Owen Bullock
between festival stages -
a primitive chant
and an Indian melody -
I stare up at the sky
through native trees
on the next street,
a woman in a long black skirt -
I almost
turn from my path
to go to her
three boxes
of bills, receipts,
love letters . . .
I burn them all
in the bonfire
looking up
through poplar branches
with a certain joy
thoughts of you
gone but not gone
the silver birch
bare now when it seems that
only yesterday
full of leaf
it flowed in the wind
38
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Owen Bullock
a silence
to fall into
no clock ticking
just autumn branches
with no breeze
hard to believe
that there’s war
anywhere in the world
the liquid amber
does its colour cascade
I wake early
with thoughts of words
and characters . . .
you reach out a hand
and it steadies mine
I can see
from the cat’s
slit eye
there are many ways
of looking at the world
leaves of the cherry tree
orange, now red, purple
only the new shoots
at its base are green
yet the autumn has no plan
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
39
Owen Bullock &
B e v e rle y Ge o rg e
ro s e m ary h ard -p ru n e d
it’s the little things
that please me -
old tins
for dry stores
bringing home some DVDs
grandpa’s shed . . .
nuts and bolts in jam jars
sorted for size
bundles of lavender
strung from the rafters
Granfer drew cartoons
when he got sick
with diabetes
& Gran went to Chapel
to listen to the Preacher
Buddha’s birthday . . .
the sweet smell of black ink
rubbed on stone
in Saihoji temple
we kneel to brush a sutra
matter is a thought
according to quantum mechanics
& everything
has gone my way today
in the house I made
40
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Owen Bullock &
B e v e rle y Ge o rg e
rosemary hard-pruned
and the linen press in order
no way to tame
the books that spill
from every shelf and table
in the end
some particles will form
& the waves
will shy away–
I mustn’t wait for her to come
still cold–
yet the wren is weaving twigs
and whales are flowing south
steadily my life takes shape
beyond the space you left
focusing
on scraped glass
shouts from the street . . .
suddenly there is
no noise
drumming
red fingernails
on formica
she tells the weeping man
what he already knows
we walked
through the bush
to the stream
to the place the miners called Dancing Flat
where men danced with men
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
41
Owen Bullock &
B e v e rle y Ge o rg e
Greggie Greenlove
the rubber glove puppet
hamming it up again–
more megastars than audience
at every family concert
the thrushes are performing
with tossed mulch
my juggling days are done
but I’ve scripts, stories, poems
to send into the air
poised to delete
one thousand email . . .
the two years
of letters that you penned me
cracked along each fold line
other people
exploring who I am
but where
is the self of this,
who answers the door?
star jasmine in flower
above its woody stems
these fleeting days
at peace with where I am
I would not retrace a step
__________________________
42
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Miriam Chaikin
the pink cyclamen
born to stone and tree
in spring
– hanky-panky
in the dark wood
in the image of god
created he them
male and female
created he them
– look it up
in baby carriage
furious little legs
pound the air
running
to catch up
“i love –” said my mother
i look up
at her rare use
of the word
“cherries,” she says
i bend over
a tiny stiffness
on the ground
it is wrapped in wings
O-to lose a singer!
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
43
Miriam Chaikin
tossing items
into a pouch
as you go
tossing them out
non-attachment
unseen and
numerous
cicadas flock together
at summer’s end
to sing of loneliness
from inn of no sorrow
yang wrote poems
i, from high rent
high rise
in west village
as grieving passes
a lesser grief
migrates inside
and remains
to keep us company
44
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Keith Chopping
The student’s voice, full of summer,
timetable needy. My day cramped
with clock-time, quoting trains.
He warms me, his tone ripe
with end of term, and gleam of August.
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
45
Charlotte Digregorio
alone
this evening
i look out
onto darkness,
my constant
winter morning
biking through the park,
i feel the wind chill my bones
as the sunlight
warms my soul
cold easter morning
in the botanic garden,
still bare,
the sun’s radiance
graces the river
morning rush hour . . .
deer traverse
the lampposts,
minutes from the crush
of the metropolis
standing near the poplar
i tell the neighbor’s child
i do not know
how long it must grow
before touching the sky
46
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Charlotte Digregorio
awakening
to news of her death . . .
from my window
i catch the sun’s glint
on the frozen lake
walking to work
i cross the city’s bridge
glancing at the murky river . . .
snow-capped skyscrapers
sparkle in sunlight
spring again,
from my open window
hearing the robin’s tapping . . .
from below,
my neighbor’s white cane
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
47
Susan Diridoni
my mother’s house
now empty
the strata of eras
seared in our hearts
fixed in our minds
keeping the redwood steps
my father built—
a stairway straight
from the starry nights
on the redwood highway
the hoopoe disappears
in the ancient dust
of Bukhara—
may I, too, vanish
in the caravan
48
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Marje A. Dyck
tall Linden tree
grown from a sapling
the park
where my children played
empty
along this street
in early evening darkness
people move
in lit rooms
unaware
in the park
on a cloudy day
behind sunglasses
I become just another
casual observer
it’s still beautiful
this August sunset
but I am
no longer
twenty-one
their straggly cries
above the piney creek
winter geese—
still hanging on
will he make another spring?
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
49
Marje A. Dyck
we think about
our comings and
our goings
seldom immersed in
our here and now
late spring evening
spicy smell
of catkins
they drop from trees
with quiet thuds
from somewhere
the faint sound
of a saxophone—
blue sweater intensifies
the blue of your eyes
for half an hour
I put on makeup
for a five minute walk
to the corner store
for milk
50
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Amelia Fielden
“NO W B LO W!”
six candles
such a vivid picture
still focussed—
how could I have lost
all those who loved me then
‘Happy Birthday
Sweet Sixteen’ daughter
kissing me
kissing my mother
those generations of love
seventy-six . . .
happy birthdays came
too late for him
to celebrate with ease
his own and others’
six kindy kids
crowded round the cake
waiting to sing—
her candles are lit
“now blow, grandaughter!”
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
51
Deborah Finkelstein
petting zoo—
tiny hands on the goat’s head,
tiny feet lost
in long blades of grass,
the goat’s lunch
habana
flimsy fisherman’s boat,
gray creeps across sky
pounding raindrops
lightning strikes the ocean
52
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Bernard Gieske
big tom
spilling into towns
beware
aggressive bird
with spurs
all too visible
mountain lion’s story
in the snow
children can only try
to cover their tracks
white bird
on rhino’s back
sometimes
I wonder
about friends
dog and lizard
resting on a log
sometimes
friends don’t need to look very far
they just meet
looking up
looking down
an upside-down tree
we both arrive
where we plan to be
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
53
Bernard Gieske
where land and sea kiss
along the shore
there you will find
that beauty
where heart and soul meet
just beyond
sunset’s burst of color
a glimpse of promise
so far between wishes
and fulfillment
the sun has reason
to celebrate day’s end
no matter the weather
we find ours
or wait another day
fish splash in the sky
between big cloud puffs of white
there are times
when we must swim
another stream
54
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Sanford Goldstein
o u ts id e r: a tan ka d ram atic m o n o lo g u e
your earring’s
a special statement,
I told her,
everything on me is,
she said
over the wine,
her fourth or fifth
red,
I remember her usual
meat loaf supper
delicious
cinnamon rolls she made
for breakfast
I watch the smoke trailing
her third cup of coffee
I sat through
without talking it out
and listened,
the road getting bumpy
about her dead husband
why did I say
you always abused him,
debased him,
that Filipino chef
you had such power over?
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
55
Sanford Goldstein
that previous night
and nothing seemed to work
I ponder
her face turned
to the wall
the shrill voice
comes as I walk away
from the door
she slams against
the California morning
I wave
marionette,
wave of a
corridor stroll,
of a curtain call
was it a hole
or was it a mouth
shouting?
that frantic gasp
of get out! get out!
it’s with nostalgia
I see myself dragging
this suitcase,
banished as I am
from her house
56
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Sanford Goldstein
once,
only once, did I see
poetry
in her face
in her eyes
I mind-recite
as if with a deep hole
in my own voice:
you retreated
you fled
only now do I think
there was pathos in that voice,
in that face,
telling me
all I have been is regret
over
sidewalk cracks
I pull my way
against different circles
of that grating voice
at the Sausalito
waterfront where tourists
stroll,
I sit and sit
and think about endings
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
57
Sanford Goldstein
on the park bench
I watch hundreds of scattered
legs,
no way to cancel memory,
no courage to backslide
eternal
the analysis
if and if—
and still, still,
no sound can end it
a simple turn
of several screws
and my life
transformed
on the head of a dot
I review once more
those last night and morning
events,
my Prufrock universe
reduced to a pierced shell
my flight
in four hours
and I taxi
my way to the airport
with the wrong ticket date
58
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Sanford Goldstein
I sit in a lounge
after making the necessary
changes—
I watch as if waiting
for her to walk through
swept up
and the city of San Francisco
all lights,
the book on my lap,
the peanuts in their small bag
I head
back and back and back
no turning,
no e-mails to send
no telephone calls to make
________________________
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
59
Margaret L. Grace
Po e try in H o n g K o n g
‘double happiness’
she spoke with a smile
handed me the key
I smile in return
feeling it already
in this train
automated fast clean
people pressed . . .
to smile or catch an eye
like breaking some-one’s bubble
Hong Kong
at the Fringe club
reading
poetry to jazz . . . how
the music and words seduce
egg tarts
in temple street
neon lights
shred the night sky
beggar woman on her knees
snared by touts
night market food
at
temple spice crab
eating someone else’s order
while two Irish girls eat ours
60
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Margaret L. Grace
pigeons flutter
a ramshackle roof top
above Kowloon
above the rusty tangle
of daylight neon signs
high on a hill
Po Lin monastery
a fog of incense
two hundred steps to Buddha
how many steps to heaven?
red peonies
sewn on green silk —
against
the whiteness of winter
a garden for the mind
the peak
enveloped in mist
above the mundane
folded to my breast a song . . .
love is a many splendored thing
___________________________
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
61
C W Hawes
what creature
from the Id takes shape
and prowls the night
set loose in fits
of restless sleep
fingering
these prayer beads wondering
about truth
yellow and orange color
the eastern skyline
taut
so very very taut
this rubber band
horns honking
only horns honking
the early morning
moon being kissed by the sun
with golden lips
the honeyed words sweetly stick
to my willing ears
bold the tree
dominating her landscape
and in the distance
are the birds all of them
ascending
62
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
C W Hawes
from out of the woods
comes one who is so like us
timid and afraid
this world we’ve created
so much road kill so much
the rose petals fall
and cover the ground in red
a deep dark red
and each night I find you
lying there waiting for me
a hole is dug
for over a million years
by this line of men
hands grasping, clawing, taking
but rarely, if ever, giving
coursing through the sky
is something strange and wonderful
a thing unimaginable
from my pencil comes squiggles
which have meaning to someone
this morning so still
outside there’s only remote
sounds of traffic
inside the apartment
the clock’s tick so faint
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
63
C W Hawes
For forty years
it lay packed away in a box
and now it is gone;
on the fly leaf, I noticed
her note had become faint.
a gullet
stretches from cradle to grave
long and dark
the exit comes upon
a billion year dung heap
obliterated
by the bold and glorious rays
of the sunrise
light without and light within
always and only the light
dark matter
and exotic dark matter,
dark energy —
existing unknowns
or simply God’s thoughts?
we sleep
through this life and awaken
to find it a dream
through my fingers flows sand
and waves wash the shore
64
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
C W Hawes
this moment
coming to me out of time
déjà vu
of a watercolor memory
or a dream I only dreamed
this gnat I’ve crushed
between forefinger and thumb
just a black stain
which unceremoniously
I wipe off on my napkin
apple blossoms
here today and tomorrow
blowing from the trees
I am one petal today
or is it now tomorrow?
my hospital bed:
the silent sound of the rain
outside my window
a fitting companion
for these long and endless days
no tube down my throat
I freely discuss all subjects
with my friends
but somehow old illnesses
become the recurring theme
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
65
C W Hawes
the clock says midnight
and I look around my drab
hospital room
this solitude so lonely —
how can the sick endure it?
I think about death
in the midst of this illness
which had surprised me
over there is it possible
the summer days are endless
This lazy morning
with August rain softly falling
on the soft earth—
Ravel’s Pavanne, how many
dead princesses have heard it?
long orange fingers
reach out across the treetops
touch me in my room
write a letter, page after page
then mail it to myself
days on end languish
throughout the timeless ticking
of the faceless clock
what god, what buddha, what priest
knows the truth of nothingness
66
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
C W Hawes
watching summer fade
into the haze of autumn
I build a fire
burning the old elm which now
transcends every season
eighteen-day moon rising
dark blood orange from the clouds
this still August night
am I witnessing an omen
or a pretty sight on a calm night
“life is what you make it”
within the palm of my hand
my destiny
weekdays there is the office
and weekends the excuses
bright orange pants and blouse
she goes about her workday
laughs at the whispers
“tell them I’m to be married
to the man in the moon”
I am light
pure and indefinable
eternal as the source
the baskets all the baskets
trying to hide me
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
67
C W Hawes
arguing in circles
he’s all wrapped up in the details
of his system
what can one say about God
and so I stop talking
forty feet of wood
floating on this placid ocean
the sails lifeless
to the horizon I see
beyond that line, the unknown
my mind is filled up
with chatter from a little monkey
who lives there
someday I’ll have will power
I’ll say, “Shoo! Shoo! Leave me now!”
within me the need:
“I must go down to the sea”
on the beach
the water laps my feet
and I see it’s just water
gullets insatiable
everywhere I look nothing
but these gullets
in the mirror this morning
just a large, red gullet
68
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
C W Hawes
asphalt and concrete
high above rise steel and glass
basements plunge below
and deep within the earth lie
the remains of those before
as a child I knew
the key to the secret of life
I just knew it
cursing the traffic everyday
to fill up my wallet
I see the blood
it’s everywhere crying out
it wants justice
these hands of mine why
do I think of Lady Macbeth
my chest splits open
and out swims an angel fish
not one but two
they follow me everywhere
recording good deeds and bad
the sound of the stream
burbling on past the campsite
mingling with my dreams
the what ifs of days gone by
paths taken and not taken
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
69
Elizabeth Howard
these frail hands
retired
from dutiful labor
crimp to a pencil
sifting words
where goldfinches
perch in the bare tree
golden pears
will hang
heavy, succulent
where to find my roots
grandmother’s house burned
strangers laying exotic sod
over rabbit burrows
and killdeer nests
a freshening in the air
the old terrier
rises from her pad
hitches a dance
on the twirling leaves
pileated woodpeckers
usher fledglings
to the suet—
Audubon, surely you
did not pull the trigger
70
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Elizabeth Howard
by the trail
a spring blocked with debris
do you fear it
the stillness
the silence of words
young hitchhiker
laden with plastic bags
and water jug
a bluetick hound jogging
along beside him
a bright light
descending toward me
a beacon of sunshine
on the jumbo jet
bringing you home
his leisurely footsteps
down the parquet hall
padding along beside him
his relentless companion
the Siamese cat
after a lapse of years
the whippoorwill
at twilight
once it sang me to sleep
in grandmother’s featherbed
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
71
Geoff Hughes
Yellow and purple blossoms
The first flowers of spring
Bring a little sunshine
To this otherwise Dreary
April day
The hours fly by like minutes
But I don’t notice
My train of thought
Heads full steam ahead
Into the valley below
These dreams never cease
You and I together again
Maybe one day
On the other side
Of this life
Fallen leaves
Floating in the puddles
Drifting here and there
Cruise ships
For ants
Another place another time
Her and I could be lovers
But today we are two strangers
Passing each other by
In the calm of night
72
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Geoff Hughes
The fall leaves
Once glowing and beautiful
Have fallen to the ground
Blown and scattered by the wind
Our love the same
My child’s chalk drawing
Of roads and signs
Cover the drive way
I wonder
If it’s the pathway to happiness
In the spring sun
I hike the woodland trail
Wishing I knew your heart
As well as I do
These trees
A single candle
Lights the room
Your life
Still a mystery
Covered in darkness
Two robins
Splash playfully
In the bird bath
Oh to be
Young again
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
73
Geoff Hughes
Frosted windows
Snowflakes
Trapped in time
Memories of you
In my mind
The rains fall heavily
The winds roar
The river rising
The anger between us
Spills over the banks
Your silence
Says more
Than your words could
I stand here
My heart sinking
Between the squeals
Of children
In the playground
The love song
Of two cardinals
Sun burnt
After falling asleep
On the beach
You and I
An ocean apart
74
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Geoff Hughes
I stare into the room
We once shared
Now only a skeleton remains
Me
Without you
Pierced
By the roses thorns
My pursuit of her
Left me
Wounded
Sun beams
Shine down
Between the thick clouds
The way you
Light up my life
The old LP
Crackles as it plays
B.B. King
Singing me the blues
On valentines day
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
75
Roger Jones
quiet trees,
silent houses;
first fall cricket
scraping, scraping
in front yard grass
warming days,
galleon clouds;
somewhere in the middle
of the bluebonnet sea
a baby
karaoke night
in the hotel club:
is this the worst version
of “Me and Mrs. Jones”
ever performed?
black flecks in the sky —
bats from caves
in the southern county:
their summer evening
mosquito raid
breezy day,
windblown cumulus
scudding across blue sky:
just like that
ten years pass too
76
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Roger Jones
jogging to the top
of a steep hill at night
on the county blacktop;
I stop, but the road goes on
into the starry pathways
mid-February —
planting seed potatoes
in early morning dark,
careful to set each one down
eyes up
Sister’s prayers
whispered to the ceiling
in our dark room;
snowflakes hissing
on the roof after midnight
standing far off
watching
the pyre of What Happened
consume who we were
over and over
thirty-two degrees
all day today;
six months ago
the metal porch rail
burned my hands
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
77
Roger Jones
cold windy sunny day
after frontal passage;
biding time
looking out the window,
birds at the feeder
bang bang bang —
the windblown door
after midnight;
waking from a dream
of a long-dead friend
finding my ex-roommate’s
twenty page letter
in a box of old files —
that summer we each complained
nothing was going on
walking home midnight
down a county highway,
mid-summer —
shaking off
the Milky Way dust
corner of Market St.
in January fog
under champagne streetlights —
enjoying the buzz
of this new marriage
78
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Roger Jones
faint rot scent
in the old garden plot;
amid dead weeds,
dried melon husks,
fall’s full weight
I smell pines,
the green washed air
near the lake;
at sundown mine’s the last
boat still on the water
like the flash
of the just-cut gem,
that spark of light
in the midst of blonde hair
falling down your shoulders
cold autumn wind
rustles the trees;
I had to walk this far
into woods
just to hear quiet
a jar of peach tea
steeps on a window sill
in afternoon light —
when she arrives, she’ll be
wearing a summer hat
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
79
_kala
a novel
lies beside him
half read
a smile on his face
as he dreams his dreams . . .
as a child
I day-dreamed the hours...
now pining for dreams
to become a reality
I’m sleepless through the night
in the curve
of her hip
she holds
an earthen pot’s
tilted twilight
leaves on
falling leaves
just one
is enough to leave behind
a poem
a squirrel
scurrying up
fruit branches
all the mangoes we’ve eaten
our tiny legs dangling
80
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
_kala
charging bulls
the dusty screams
from spectators...
the hunger of cavemen
hangs in the air
hopes afloat
on myriad dreams
he brings home
a basket of roses
for me
in scorching heat
missing the water songs
from the river
I gather pebbles
the beauty in them
a friend’s call
all fine here
and there?
I hardly want to disclose
the truth of the moment
diwali night
sitting so far away
from my family
thoughts go tumbling over
to childhood days
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
81
Kirsty Karkow
floodtide
so many moons
reflected
so many eyes
so many eons
buffeted
by each gust of wind
here and now
caught in thoughts of Tao fish
who know they swim through water
through a dark night
worries and scary fiends
roam the bedroom . . .
they would vanish easily
if I just reached out for light
she and I
walk the same planet
an ear offered
and a hand extended
makes all the difference
here I am
walking happily
in hard rain—
an eccentricity
due to British genes
82
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Kirsty Karkow
these first moments
of deep morning silence . . .
how carelessly
the mental chatter starts
with lists, with who said what
reminders
of boarding school
sepia snapshots
note the technicolor change
when she went on to college
an evening spent
in amicable debate
isn’t a warm
better than a cool light
for the bedroom lamp?
learning to fly
a remote-controlled plane
my son’s
finger on the joystick
though he is far away
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
83
M. Kei
tempted to play hooky
but I have students waiting,
this day without a morning
this night without a day
in the shadow of a sparrow
a thin white crust
of moon
scattered in a
blue sky
a perplexing party invite
home sick
I discover
the beauty of
a snake garden
in the April rain
the pudgy
security guard did
me a favor
kicking me out
into a May evening
every one
walks past azaleas buds
on the way to
the parking lot
and the trip home
84
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
M. Kei
a student
in a white shirt and
blue tie . . .
doesn’t he know this night
will never come again?
khakis,
name tag and glasses . . .
I could be mistaken
for the professor
I am not
outside the wall of green,
an unwelcome voice,
car horns, traffic,
the sound of my own feet . . .
and then the sighing of the wind
wooden debris
rusty nails
broken glass . . .
signs of intention
now abandoned
the plank remembers
the tree from which it came,
slowly dividing
along natural lines,
returning to the earth
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
85
M. Kei
cleaning house,
I discover
an old diary . . .
who did
I used to be?
“red, right, return”
the red light on
the nun buoy
a welcome sight
this hazy night
the old flat
faced east,
and so
I gloried
in the dawn
reading a book
of someone else’s
love poems,
I sigh a little and
turn to the dawn
tempted myself
to talk with some of
the employers
who are recruiting
my students
86
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
M. Kei
how can we
do what we know we
should not?
a brown flood
roiling at the doorstep
the wave
always returns
to lap this strand
of broken stone
and empty dreams
pretty soon
I’ll have to get up
and go back to work —
another summer seeping
into the wood of the boat
tying the ears
of the garbage bag
together,
I notice the rabbit
on the patio
I go to meet him,
these hands brimming
with poems
running over and
spilling around my feet
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
87
M. Kei
what is the name
for that exact shade
of gray
hanging over my head
this morning?
no safety net
under this bowsprit —
just the chains,
the sea,
and duty
dreams
stuck to the pavement
like melted ice cream
your words
a gathering of flies
autumn —
dark skies
illuminated by
the golden lamps
of trees
as sudden
as it came,
it leaves,
a summer storm
full of tornado fear
88
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Larry Kimmel
not 12 inches from my hand,
a sparrow braves the wrought iron table
for a poppy seed —
I can’t believe
she’s gone back to him
along the pond’s edge
a young woman stitches her way
through evening willows —
I sat on that very bank today
reading Hafiz
gas flames rise from fake logs,
the tribe’s story teller
a Kindle —
how hard we try
to hang onto our origins
inside the grape arbor,
shadowed-patterns where her blouse
lies open —
the purple fruit
wants tasted
blond barefoot & beautiful*
she offers me a daisy held
between two toes —
beneath the blue frock
her naked body
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
89
*paraphrased from John Berryman’s
Sonnets
: #37
Larry Kimmel
at first light,
before the crack
of dawn — the crack
of an egg
on the skillet’s rim
home for lunch
in the driveway
3-inch mushrooms
that weren’t
this morning
90
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Larry Kimmel
an o ld s c e n ario
narrative tanka sequence
your bed creaks
you whisper my name twice
I pretend to sleep—
the pad of bare feet
down the hallway
the susurrus
of hurried whispers
the click of a door—
racked on twisted sheets
at least now I know
first light.
frost-stars pink and fade
to a neon pulse—
bad as it is
I’m going to be okay
______________________
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
91
Larry K im m e l
& Ai Li
o b s c e n e c alle r
a tanka malam [tanka of the night] 27 March 2009 - 3 April 2009
her very own
obscene caller
before the hot cocoa
and the last moth
of youth
in a 60 watt apartment
the poised pen
at length decides
on simply —
a friend
long distance romance
through winter dark
kisses on window steam
his name in capitals
she can touch
falling snow
past streetlights holiday
the parking lot —
at Starbucks an answer
from tomorrow’s Toyko
at his wake
s&m leather and black cod
they line his
box for eternity
with shared nights
92
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Larry K im m e l
& Ai Li
on my back
on a bed
in a bed & breakfast —
my dime destiny
mapped on a cracked ceiling
her red wig
their silhouettes
at 69
both sets of teeth
in a water glass
after blotting lipstick
on linen —
her sneer
in a casing knife
darkly
a fire stairs moon
listening to the blues
from the room
i emptied
20 years ago
nude
at a window
she lets
the lightning
flash her
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
93
Larry K im m e l
& Ai Li
the undertaker
reading lines from Poe
candle shadows
a fingernail
and three stumps
by the time you wake
i’ll be half-way to Miami
thanks
for the loan of your warmth,
your body’s fragrance
_____________________
94
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Larry Kimmel &
Ai Li
e m p ty b e d
a tanka malam 28 April 2009 - 2 May 2009
i had forgotten
your touch your voice
but in an empty bed
deep into my winter
memory roars
pacing unlit rooms
the pulse
of a sleepless cigarette
and all the old
familiar shades
a slow tango
his deep blue eyes
and the heat
of the barrio
on her breasts
“make yourself at home,
i’ll put on coffee” —
by nite-lite
soiled underthings
a lidless jar of vaseline
he came from nowhere . . .
all this talk of smoke and mirrors
from a mouth i can still taste
i run my toes up his leg
the wooden one
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
95
Larry Kimmel &
Ai Li
can’t read
in a room full of one fly —
how would Ahab cope?
turn off light? sit in dark?
nuh-uh
rorschach test
the beast in indian ink
and a full moon
to howl to
on my hands and knees
glint
of braceleted arms, body
maddered by firelight —
i wake! to a trace
of goat and sandalwood
arabian nights
my casbah longings & leanings
desert sweetmeats
honey trickling down
bare throats
an army of bottles
tiered behind the bar,
beautiful at this late hour —
my poker-faced love
for the barmaid
96
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Larry Kimmel &
Ai Li
love juice . . .
the heart shaped pool with fairylights
and muzak at the treetops
she lies face down
tattoo bleeding
swing shift over,
again, jane in passing sees,
cut in silvery beech,
the mocking legend of yesteryear
jack
♥
jill
__________________________
Note:
A tanka m alam is a 12 free form tanka sequence about the night, how we love and hate
and sometimes do unspeakable things in its nightly embrace. It can be written solo or
with others and was dreamt up by ai li on 27 march 2009 whilst soaking in a lavender
milk and dead sea salt bath.
‘malam’ is night in the m alay language — a tanka m alam is therefore tanka of the night.
—
Ai Li
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
97
Joseph V. Kleponis
except for the rain
spattering on the rooftop
the house is silent —
I cannot even recall
the echo of your footsteps
in my memory
I believe I remember
moonlight through the trees
scent of lilac in the air
evanescent promises
if I were a god
and could speak in thunderclaps
might and mythy
would you then hear what I say —
or would it still be mere noise?
there’s a waterfall
wind rushing through swaying trees
birds rising in flight
wavelets breaking on the shore—
and then, there is your laughter
on that winter night
of ice dams along the roof
I paused from chopping
looked into the starry cold
and wished for the spring now gone
98
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Dubravko Korbus
on top of sharp cliffs
thrashing painfully
the sea is creaking
moan of the storm takes away
shrieking of the crumbled waves
a strong burst of the wind
and suddenly dandelions’
flakes are everywhere
brought down by large drops
of the Spring rain
the railway tracks
coming and leaving
on both sides
the first station to the left
and right is infinity
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
99
Don LaMure
sifting through
boxes of family photos
questioning who
is the black sheep member
no one calls to say
stone stare
into the river below
this bridge
we’ve crossed into
family reconciliation
hummingbird
sucks the nectar of life
outside my window
as I move the dangling
tubes in my arm to see more
rhythmic wind
beats a sad ballad
onto the window
chilling my confused heart
after another lover leaves
burning love
heated the winter solstice
as infatuation
reared its reality
blow out my reading candle
100
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Don LaMure
walking alone
stopping and staring
into Starry Night
my threshold of love for you
found as I leave the museum
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
101
Chen-ou Liu
I go see her
along the road of dreams ----
days slip away
nothing changes
except my dreams
hopefully
each word I weave
into my tanka
forms the fabric
of daily life
bobbing up and down
in the ocean of time —
my mind drifts
to the shore
at daybreak
with a click
I send out
my tanka —
time seems to crawl
from that moment
at the sight
of a crescent moon
in star-struck darkness —
the moth eyebrows
of my beloved
102
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Chen-ou Liu
walking along
dreamlike corridors
I seek you
by groping in the dark
both hands touching nothing
shot
by the gleam in your eyes
I am wounded
blinded in daylight
tortured by moonrays
the world
of morning dews, campfires
maple leaves, and snowflakes
is a world
under the same sun
clutching stocks and bonds
the Dow Jones flees
the onslaught of winter
squalls of white
bury my life
night deepens
with piercing cries
of a cat —
I hear
my heart throbbing
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
103
Chen-ou Liu
eyes fixate
on bare branches of a maple
standing still
I wait silently
for time’s passing
these photos
of you and me —
constant reminders
of things
not yet lost
startled geese
fill the blue sky —
happily on green grass
kids run
and chase each other
I don’t expect
much of you
a garden
changing hues
as the season turns
walled in a room:
a clutter of books
a coffee-stained desk
stacks of returned mail
a mind unrested
104
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Bob Lucky
tired
of melancholy
I jump off
the third step
and land on both feet
in the morning
we start anew
our suffering
turning off the alarm
and rolling out of bed
in a moment
I will think of something
to say to her —
safely across the counter
she doesn’t mind my staring
in the middle
of the recording session,
my wife suggests
it might be best for me
to sing my own harmonies
long lost friends email
invitations to join them
on Facebook —
when we talk about a wall
we mean different things
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
105
Bob Lucky
not a Romantic
of the long-suffering school
I prefer
diseases that come
and go with a cure
rough day
this evening I need to see
a movie
in which the bad guys are bad
and the good guys are good
passing the window
of a lingerie shop
she stops to explain
tight bras and breast cancer
and my spirits droop
T h e Se v e n Es s e n tials
after a Chinese proverb
near the gardens
that line the river bank
an old man
lifts a bundle of firewood
onto his hunched back
no customers
in her shop, the vendor
rakes the rice
into perfect mounds
that might be found in heaven
106
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Bob Lucky
on the curb
a woman drizzles oil
on a black griddle —
I join the huddled hungry
and wait for my flatbread
down the aisles
of a Chinese grocery
I scan the shelves —
there among five kilo bags
of msg, a tiny box of salt
two years in China
and I’m still afraid to try
the soy sauce
the old woman ladles
from a fifty-gallon drum
butchering Chinese
in an upscale restaurant,
we go through waiters
until one understands
our need for some vinegar
in Longjing village
the Dragon Well tea harvest
has begun —
in shops all over town
last year’s tea is a bargain
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
107
Bob Lucky
T h e Lo g ic o f Pain
I haven’t put my pants on all day, which reminds me of my father when
I was a kid. Sunday was his version of back to nature. Like a sated lion
after a feed, he would lounge around in his underwear and watch football
on TV, fall asleep and growl if anyone changed the channel.
a migraine
stalks me all day —
pacing
a circuit of pain
through the apartment
If I lie down I get nauseous. The light is so bright it hurts, so I walk with
my eyes closed. My son tells me to put some pants on, but I mumble
about a man’s home being his castle and keep walking.
all my dreams
have begun to fade
but clearly
it’s not too late
to own an Irish Wolfhound
To distract myself, I imagine I’m an old Volkswagen bus headed for
Mexico. For a while it feels good to be rolling through the Rio Grande
Valley, honking at Crested Caracaras perched on fence posts, until I run
into a coffee table.
Buddha, my boy,
you were right about one thing —
life is suffering
the throbbing in my toe
out of synch with my head
108
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Bob Lucky
Sm ile
She had thought the orthodontist was evil, but the surprise braces-
coming-off party gave him hope of redemption in her mind. Soft drinks,
caramels, cookies, and bowls of nuts. Caramels she didn’t care for. The
occasional cookie and Sprite had been allowed. But nuts! She hadn’t had
a nut in three years.
beneath
the empty desk
classmates
start a collection
of chewed gum
The doctors said it was rare for a person to develop a peanut allergy that
late. If anything, such an allergy often disappeared with age. The
mortician said she had a beautiful smile.
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
109
Bob Lucky
O n e M y s te ry So lv e d B e fo re Lu n c h , Sin g ap o re , Ye ar o f th e O x
sometimes to sleep
I conjure a whisk
beating eggs
slowly the bowl and my mind
fade into nothingness
Awakened by a nagging cough, I’m kept awake by the slow drip of
anxiety that accompanies the end to all holidays. I stare into the darkness
until the morning call to prayer from the Abdul Gaffoor Mosque wakes
me. But the world is upside down, night is day, day night, and that
bull-horned reminder to acknowledge god sends me off to sleep, the kind
of unsatisfying sleep in which the dreamer is aware he is dreaming.
So there I am in my dream riding a motor scooter through Hoi An, “The
Town for Walkers and Primitive Vehicle Users.” I swerve around puddles
and pedestrians. People are giving me dirty looks and throwing segments
of grilled sugar cane wrapped with minced prawns at me, but I’m so
distracted trying to recall the Vietnamese name for that tasty snack that
I don’t pay much attention to them. After all, it’s just a dream.
Rolling over and peering through half-opened eyelids, I see my wife and
son are gone, but they’ve left a note on the toilet lid directing me to meet
them at a particular kopitiam for lunch. An hour later, as I’m going down
the escalator to the Little India MRT station, I think I smell chao tom.
pinching my butt
in a crack in the plastic
toilet seat —
all my great thoughts
disappear in one foul whoop
__________________________
110
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Nulty Lynch
Asked to wear something
sexy, she doesn’t know how.
Pacing nervously.
New skirt precipitously
blowing in the train’s backdraft.
Secret and wide smile.
You look as surprised by the
feel of it growing,
as I am by the new sight,
unused to its appearance.
Thick calves below a
tweed skirt (even in this heat.)
Shimmy in her walk.
Pale peach of belly showing
with every long stride.
Is this how we find
out that the world has ended?
An empty car park?
Are we the only few left?
Still showing up to commute?
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
111
Mary Mageau
T h e Las t Re c ital
I hold my program for his final Carnegie Hall recital. The concert is sold
out. Imagine — all the Bach cello suites, completely from memory. They
say his playing is even better, since he’s become blind. Taking my seat I
wait expectantly as an elderly man is carefully escorted to a single chair
that occupies the centre of the stage. The house lights dim. A hushed
silence settles over the hall.
closing his eyes
he lifts his bow
as sonorous notes
cascade
from the cello
his mastery will
articulate rhythms
produce arpeggios, trills
build mighty crescendos
coax whispers
at the final chord
amid bravos and
endless applause
he places his bow
on the floor
____________________
112
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
John Martell
after all these years
you stand before me glowing
on this sunny street—
with nowhere to go now
as I awake
every spring you say,
your head is in the clouds—
oh
if you could only see
the view from here
tonight
the moon’s bright face resembles
old Mr. Broucek—
I wonder who it will be
tomorrow night?
this evening
as my elderly neighbors
sit out on lawn chairs
I envy their tap root
nourished by hope and fear
this evening’s bouquet
culled with love this afternoon
wilted
on my way to her house—
as romance always does
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
113
John Martell
packing, she thinks,
one day love will find me,
but wonders
if she should not leave
her forwarding address
where we walked
along this path together
counting stars.
tonight I hold tightly
to a sliver of the moon
sub-zero sunlight
breaks in icy shards today—
words
we do not mean
freeze the space between us
I walked beneath
the distant stars last night
and sensed a world
when I would not exist—
fire burning wood to ash
enjoying the day
a young woman strolls
past our flower bed
in shifting lilac shade—
where now your ashes lie
114
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Terra Martin
T ah q u itz Can y o n
transformed
into an earthquake
the shaman
carves his signature
into the land
spirits
of cahuilla indians
walking the path
through a dusty gorge
I thirst
pink flower
tiny black seeds
if ingested
harvests—
dreams and destiny
spiny lizard
blends with the rock
can I camouflage
my weakness
as subtly . . .
open fork
like a woman’s genitalia
this waterfall
gives birth to an ever
changing flow
______________________
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
115
Terra Martin
could it be
the moon flower woke me
from this dream
of your arms
around my body
more than
this tombstone
separates me
from my mother
and father
burgundy
maple leaves
rustle
like the sound
of her crepe dress
waiting
for you is like
waiting for
the blue moon
to reappear
laughter
bounces like sunbeams
round the harbor
as I wander
cobblestone streets
116
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Terra Martin
jasmine
perfumes the air
like sweet
lingering
lovemaking
this flower
follows the light
should we be
choosing
the same path . . .
the taste
of your kiss
a cinnamon
promise laced
with anticipation
fallen petals
here, there
is all beauty
destined to
be temporary
the words
I wanted to say
are whispered
to the marigolds
instead
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
117
Terra Martin
impatient
my neighbour
plants
plastic flowers
of every kind
violets
crushed against the gate
do they realize
freedom might be
on the other side
the time spent
wishing we never met
is like wishing
for dandelions
to disappear
limbs
over the low fence
exposing
those pink blossoms
to strangers
118
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Francis Masat
prairie dawn
above a buffalo herd
slowly rising steam
my breath joins
with theirs
morning run —
a curl of wood smoke
through the snow flakes
the smell of bacon
pulls me from the trail
facial tissue
gauzy thin
purest white
no hint
of its forest origins
Key West strip —
a male tourist
recrosses the street
after being fooled
by a drag queen
salt pond mangroves —
the homeless bargain
over dry spots
egrets bicker
for roosting rights
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
119
Francis Masat
in
and out
in and out and in and out
chicken tracks
in my new sidewalk
rest home parlor puzzle —
putting in the same piece
I put in last week
I am asked again
what day it is
iridescent bubbles break
the glassy surface
of an ocean swell
I remember the phrase
“The sea will give up its dead.”
goading his body
stroking his neck
whipping his thighs
timing his final thrust
winning in the last furlong
Key West coffeehouse —
morning glories
with trumpets raised
sunburned legs
under a rusted bench
120
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Francis Masat
road-side shoulder–-
a motionless snake
stomach to the sun
I feel the heat
and move on
The Florida Straits —
shrimp boat lights
— and lightning!
the scurry
of bare feet
small hands
pick blueberries
one-by-one she’s learned
those still red
are green
Halloween party —
when I try to disappear
with a buxomed witch
my faerie wife reminds me
she’s the one who’ll cast a spell
New Year’s Day
fresh powder covers
last year’s tracks
the same happened overnight
outside
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
121
Giselle Maya &
B e v e rle y Ge o rg e
An c e s tral We av in g s
ask not whether it is
a jewel or a pebble
simply hold it in your palm —
return from a long voyage
to the full moon of May
Grandfather
died long ago
those stars
whose names he taught me
are mine . . . his legacy
swallows have come back
they remember their nests
under my rooftiles
our visit has ended
still I see my grandson smile
flowing up and down
mother’s needle gathers
pleats for smocking . . .
gloves and stockings ‘de rigeur’
for each trip into the city
father
of elegant long hands
you taught me
to ride a bike
and love of animals
122
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Giselle Maya &
B e v e rle y Ge o rg e
swift fingers
of the childless aunt
across yellowed keys
raised hands told us to sing
a nod, to turn the page
is mother
ever separate from child
they are linked
two drops of water
join the bright stream
catching tadpoles
from banks of a spring creek—
the first touch
of our flailing hands
the tangle of our laughter
older brother
you taught me
the Greek alphabet
to be recited aloud
when visitors came
kids’ concert
on the summer lawn
the adults
often laughing
in unintended places
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
123
Giselle Maya &
B e v e rle y Ge o rg e
daughter
so close to me once
I see you dance
hand mudras and anklebells
enchanted tales of Shiva
returning home
you hang wind chimes
in the camellia
smile secretively
about people we don’t know
aunt Emma
tall and eagle-eyed
dark hair in a bun
your gaze held all
the miracles of the forest
camping
by Brown Hill Creek
in a tent that leaked —
cooking porridge in a haybox
making out it tasted good
I held out
pink blossoming clover
for the rabbits
in the village I visited
as a seven-year-old
124
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Giselle Maya &
B e v e rle y Ge o rg e
my father
would not allow
caged birds
one day he left us . . .
for the land of long white cloud
_______________________
New Zealand is known as “The Land of The Long W hite Cloud.”
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
125
Michael McClintock
Abe Lincoln stood up,
too tall for the room,
hitting the lamp,
and with his hair on fire
strode into the night
the Heidelberg train
headed for the countryside;
take me away
from this smoky old place
say her eyes . . . .
what surprise, to see
these earthen colors lifted
onto soft platforms
in the sky --- an entire village
sedated, and burned to ash
with the new ladder
I go looking for frisbees
up the mulberry tree —
bones of lost kites, and dragons
petrified in their eggs
the morning work
on a stubborn poem
I lost, in wonder
of a woman in ochre scarves
passing on the avenue
126
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Michael McClintock
my dad wants his heaven
where men eat pizza, drink beer,
play a hand of cards
imagining all the cards
were lives they might have lived
black-and-white
photographs of family,
not one with a smile;
they are all dead now
and left only these
passed as a gift
through generations,
it now comes to me —
the Bible an Irishman bought
sailing west from an English port
catching up the blood,
with my hands I give
the color back
to a torn chest and
the smoking ruin of a shirt
each and every person
swallowed by the streets
at night . . .
drumbeats and the howling
vowels of a saxophone
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
127
Michael McClintock
at the barbershop
in the century-old hotel
there’s a Gibson Girl
my granddad once loved,
prettily framed on the wall
she has still, I note,
to begin speaking —
the little girl
found lost in the forest
by the man who married her
the pole-dancer
does her thing, daydreaming
a candle for supper
and all those she’ll light
for her bath after work
alone on the street
a woman with henna-bright hair
sheared off —
her sandled feet
madly kick it away
I came here last,
land of the black bear
and wild bee,
the game played and lost
in solitude of the woods
128
Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Michael McClintock
the mighty mountain
in the summer shower
lonely, lonely
this cabin with a tin roof
one chair and a cot
I was in pursuit
of a wounded bear, amid
the sublimities —
golden-rod and fern,
the booming cataract
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Dave Moore
this fur
pines for the kiss of snow
for only then
will it not be hidden,
bound by envy
caught in traffic —
she stares at the river
twirls her hair
imagines
gone
The child’s mind!
She places the prettiest stones
in the flower pot
and centers it on the table.
How the years steal this!
the weekend is here,
but how shall we spend it?
for just as it’s settled,
we close our eyes — refreshed,
and awaken reset
a driving rain
beats down
marching working class foot soldiers
the sky, headlines, and mood match their suits
and these are the lucky?
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Modern English Tanka — Summer 2009
Dave Moore
sunlight illuminates
a new building in this spotless town
everything’s perfect
if not for the greasy hand prints
on the windows
maybe tomorrow night
I’ll just put the dinner scraps
on a plate outside . . .
that way the raccoons
will let me sleep
hours before I hop in the car,
my wife tells me about the accident.
I forgot the story
until I drive over the flare powder,
running him over again
Too warm to shiver,
but yet a distant fire
lingers in the air.
There’s no peace within this smoke.
Someone should make a phone call.
bicycle rider
on the wrong side of the road
stares straight as his back
smile shines ear to ear
I wonder what he’s thinking?
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Dave Moore
amazed at pictures
of my daughter just months old
who is that child?
where has the time flown off to?
soon she’ll think this way
riddled with a guilt
for wanting more than I have
blessed to have some don’t
in times like these I’m grateful
in times like these I’m employed
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