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 the new Ribbons: Tanka Society of America Journal. The poems appear under the themes for which they were originally written, e.g. "Summer Scies" or "Musical Instruments."

   

    


 
 From Summer Skies, June, 2002

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

 

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