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."
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