Verses
from the Tanka Cafe
Presented below is a selection of tanka taken from past installments of "The Tanka Cafe," a popular feature of our newsletter that continues in Ribbons: Tanka Society of America Journal. The poems appear under the themes for which they were originally written, e.g. "Summer Skies" or "Musical Instruments." Just added: verses from 2006-7!
calling her
by his wife's first name
how quickly
they come
clouds in a summer sky
--Doris Kasson
of course
the summer sky
is beautiful
I mustn't hate them
for saying it so often
--John Stevenson
From Sons and Daughters, March, 2002
On my knee
our friend's daughter
explains the
complexities of
her small world
--Art Stein
she loses her keys
needs reminding of the time--
at what point
did I become the mother
and she the wayward child?
--Thelma Mariano
From Ice, Winter, 2001
a deer cries
in the misted park
splinters of ice
slide over the pond
and into my heart
--Amelia Fielden
hush, hush . . .
ice cubes in the martini
talking about why
she carries a spare key
for her diary
--Fay Aoyagi
scraping the windshield
in the dawn light
I catch her peeping
through the curtains
before goodbyes
--Lenard D. Moore
From Beginnings, Autumn, 2001
autumn equinox
the California hills
are golden brown
I'd trade these thoughts of spring
for a good rain
--David Rice
From The
Future, January, 2003
my thirteen year old
lies on the couch reading
with the cat, wearing
the face of the woman
she will become
--Miriam Sagan
don't expect
forever of me
i am like the wind
invisible & always
changing direction
--Pamela A. Babusci
From Things That Fly, June, 2003
vivid dreams
of running toward him
lighter than air
these feathery seeds
floating toward the sun
--Kirsty Karkow
a blue heron
flaps gracefully upriver
like me
belonging to no one
except the wind
--Thelma Mariano
From Object on a Shelf, September, 2003
wiping the dust
off the unopened letter
to trace her name,
I shift in my chair
to listen to birdsong
--Lenard D. Moore
one poem
more wonderful
than the next
mercifully, some pages
stick together
--John Stevenson
after the burial,
a shoe box of photos
on a closet shelf ---
memories with no mind
to remember them
--Larry Kimmel
From Musical Instruments, December, 2003
in sunlight
you play saxophone
and i am breathless
knowing precisely
how each note will fall
--Beverley George
St. Patrick Day's Parade
in South Boston
the saxophone's
a perfect catch
for the empties
--Raffael de Gruttola
From Bridges, June, 2004
such color!
before the Bridge at Arles
I hesitate―
one bold step and my
life
may change forever
--Kirsty Karkow
caught
in the bridge's ribs
this winter sun
this heart
rubbed raw
--Pamela Miller Ness
From Personal Reflections, September, 2004
great whales
on the evening dunes
their whispers in sand
carry into the depths
of our dreams
--Raffael de Gruttola
having a premonition
of losing love again
I crush strawberries
one by one
with a spoon
--Kozue Uzawa
From Mending and Repair, December, 2004
no repair
for the fallen camellia
weighted with rain
an apology too late
only complicates my life
--Cherie Hunter Day
can she fix me?
this staid psychologist
a Vermeer print
tacked carefully to the wall
just above her left shoulder
--Laura Maffei
From Portraits, Summer, 2005
Frank
sitting in the sun
on the steps,
the cabin unfinished,
a cold one in his hand
--Michael Ketchek
From Taika, Autumn, 2005
("Taika" is a term that was made up just for this issue's
Tanka Cafe to describe
verses that combine the aesthetic elements of
both tanka and haiku.)
ranchland
the wild poppies bloom
only on slopes
too steep for cattle
too steep for botonists
--Margarita Engle
from one
to many
to all
I hardly know
water lilies
--Jeanne Emrich
From The Abstract, March, 2006
trying to tell her
how I feel
she hands me
an invisible paintbrush
with which to whisper
--Andrew Riutta
Truth and Beauty
met for cappuccino
at the corner deli
Truth thought it would rain
Beauty hoped it wouldn’t
--Elizabeth Howard
From Summer Scenes, June, 2006
a lover’s moon
hangs low over the river
as I sit alone
sorry to see it
slowly swallowed in cloud
--Thelma Mariano
Summer turning
when you died in India . . .
I'll always keep
the pink elephant
you promised to bring home.
--Pamela Miller Ness
From Where We Write, September, 2006
at the pond's edge
knowing what
the heron knows
we wait for
something to leap
--Robert Kusch
Tall windows
and the fancy ceiling carved
by a man who built
this house to hold the words and days
of dreamers he would never see
--Carol Purington
From Leafless Autumn, December, 2006
another swing
of the splitting maul
and a thought:
perhaps I should follow
the southbound geese
--Dave Bacharach
faint and high above
the voices of sandhill cranes
since my childhood
they have heralded
the deepening cold to come
--Marje
A. Dyck
From
Newness, March, 2007
a sigh of wind
across the greening
winter wheat
is there a reason
to travel elsewhere
--Giselle Maya
from the spring,
"Tradition,"
I will scoop
a handful of
New Year's water
--Aya Yuhki
From Summer, June, 2007
I am stabbed
by your soft eyes
in this summer
of Lyre and ocean
singing in turn
--Mariko Kitakubo
rough winds
do shake the darling
buds of May
and summer's lease hath
all too short a date
--William Shakespeare, from Sonnet XVIII
alone in the house
after you've gone
in the silence
I scrape layer after layer
of paint from an old chair
--Angela Leuck
a shooting star
flares across the sky
and vanishes
I wish
you hadn't done that
--Peter Yovu
From Giving, December, 2007
I'm never without it
this ring from my friend
even in surgery
they had to take it
from my sleeping fingers
--Aurora Antonovic
we didn't have much
just a tiny apartment
and each other—
a reason to dance
across the bare linoleum
--Linda Kulp
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