2012: Anthologized in Take 5, volume 4 (editor M. Kei)
Thirty years later
holding hands at breakfast
coffee weaker
pancakes smaller
but the grasp still strong
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| First published in Eucalypt issue 11 |
2011: Anthologized in 25 Tanka Poets from Great Britain and Ireland (editor Jon Baldwin)
Let's meet next summer
at the place of the apple tree
where horse traders
can tell your fortune or,
if you have none, invent one.
|
|
Refers to Appleby
(the county town and market town of the deceased county of Westmorland) and its annual gypsy fair. |
2011: Anthologized in Dreams Wander On (editor Robert Epstein)
Children jump the surf ...
[First published in Moonbathing, Autumn 2009]
|
Storms this morning ...
[First published in Eucalypt issue 4, 2008]
|
First published in American Tanka number 20, January 2012:
Goodwill dining table
my husband sanded it smooth
resealed its surface
said it would last a lifetime
and it has
|
First published in American Tanka number 18, Spring 2009:
January gale
another roof slate
cracks off —
I can't stand it
that you're gone.
|
First published in bottle rockets number 28 (2013):
Golden aspen leaf the tremor in his hand but perhaps he feels himself steady that my palm trembles on his |
First published in Chrysanthemum (Spring 2011):
Falling coupled
into bramble thorns
mating butterflies
everyone's wings
torn by desire.
With German translation by Dietmar Tauchner:
Bei der Paarung
stürzen verkoppelte Falter
in die Brombeerdornen
ihr beider Flügel
zerrissen vor Begierde
|
For my family's sake
the day before my operation
I get a haircut
in case I need to look
respectable on a slab.
With German translation by Dietmar Tauchner:
Meiner Familie wegen
einen Tag vor meiner OP
lasse ich mir die Haare schneiden
für den Fall dass ich gut aussehen muss
auf dem OP-Tisch
|
| First published in Eucalypt, these poems appear on this web page with the author's preferred punctuation (including initial capitalization and concluding full stop). Sometimes a poem's wording is 'improved' from the published version. |
First published in Eucalypt issue 4, 2008:
Storms this morning
keep me home recycling
inessential documents,
discarding yet again
all those people I once was.
|
Wintry surf
tosses rocks, kelp, and salty grit ...
their racket
blanks out all chance to catch
your next wise advice.
|
First published in Eucalypt issue 5, 2008:
First daybreak
of the silent retreat
I fracture its rules —
hum like fog in the shower
whistle like sunrise with the kettle.
|
Talking to her friend
in bonfire light
she neglects for once
to cover her face
with a charming mask.
|
First published in Eucalypt issue 6, 2009:
Spring nervousness —
roof-ridge boastings
of starling and crow
promises, promises
at the speed-dating venue.
|
First published in Eucalypt issue 7, 2009:
Shoulders carrying
thirty widowed years
their sudden tremble
when the garage-door cable.
snaps.
|
Fronting the river
Madonna Cemetery
shines under green branches —
hill-fire smoke and petals
drift over the fireman's grave.
|
First published in Eucalypt issue 9, 2010:
She drives her father
to catch the mountain bus —
he hefts his backpack
his stooped shoulders
pulling on her heart.
|
First published in Eucalypt issue 10, 2011: "Smoldering hotel ..."
First published in Eucalypt issue 11, 2011: "Thirty years later ..."
First published in Eucalypt issue 12, 2012: "The clover so large ..."
First published in Eucalypt issue 13, 2012: "Domestic ducks ..." and "Mountain desert air ..."
In Notes From the Gean issue 4 (March 1, 2010):
Fiery sparks
flurry as the log settles —
I tell my friend
it's not too late to return
what she stole.
|
In his kitchen
to refill my water glass
I notice
vodka bottles propping up
AA brochures.
|
In Notes From the Gean issue 6 (September 1, 2010):
Cycling in a thin dress
through the World's Fair Forest --
St. Louis summers
perfumed with jasmine
and melting tar.
|
In the Tanka Café on the theme: Epiphany
Those nimble birds
scrambling the wind above chimneys
and urban forest
are they swifts or swallows ...
or just this world's debris?
|
First published in A Hundred Gourds 1:3 (2012)
She claims I'm her friend as if her annual letter were not merely a long list of demands — the puddle's broken reflections. |
First published in A Hundred Gourds 1:1 (2011)
Where is she now the girl that wore red shoes? far away in a northern land learning the color of snow. |
First published in the July 2008 issue of Magnapoets:
Darning
another of his sock toes
I keep getting pricked
even though
he's miles away.
|
First published in the July 2010 issue of Magnapoets:
West-facing window
the frame's shadow
glides across my chair —
I am a sundial
an hourglass draining.
|
First published in the Spring 2009 issue of MET: Modern English Tanka: Of the fifteen tanka published, this is one example:
Grey Monday morning
the mournful harmonica
from the work bus
"in the mine, in the mine,
where a million diamonds shine".
|
First published in the Autumn 2009 issue of Moonbathing (Founding Editors Pamela A. Babusci and Cathy Drinkwater Better):
Children jump the surf
waves shatter the summer air —
in a few years
friends will scatter my ashes
into such broken water.
|
First published in the Spring/Summer 2008 issue of moonset:
[Editor's Choice]
Slowly rising tide
the harbor seal lifts its tail
for every swell
I too adjust my posture
with each of my friend's complaints.
|
[Second Place in moonset Tanka Contest]
Lowering sky
a rapid rattle of hailstones
not such a bad day
to sit by the fire and read
then burn your love letters.
|
First published in 2010 Vol 6:2 issue of red lights:
The way my stomach
lurched
each time the swing boat
swung
first summer of love.
|
Her front garden glows
with a hundred aubergines —
she devours them all July
shiny indigo skin
taut as her pregnant belly.
|
First published in 2011 Vol 7:1 issue of red lights:
Fire and garlands
at my friends' Hindi wedding
they exchange gold rings
their ring-finger veins
joined to their hearts.
|
Surrendering
to the masseuse's hands
my nose and ears
even my heels and toes
are smiling.
|
First published in 2011 Vol 7:2 issue of red lights:
Each year the glaciers
retreat over boulders
up fjords and mountains —
my tear-stained white handkerchief
frays as I wave goodbye.
|
So cold
when I awake
alone in my bed —
still I have woken
still I can remember you.
|
First published in the 2008 Summer issue of Ribbons:
My mouth
enfolds melting chocolate
this
is what Inca kings ate
is what they fed their gods.
|
In the Tanka Café on the theme: Epiphany
Pickpocketted
she realizes it was when
she glanced away
to the ruckus across the street
and someone nudged her softly.
|
First published in the 2008 Autumn issue of Ribbons:
In the Tanka Café on the theme: Transience
Not transient enough —
today's aroma of skunk
explains those shrill yips
when last night's small-mammal war
raged beneath our home.
|
First published in the 2008 Winter issue of Ribbons:
Their marriage
of crisis and battle
a calm surface at last
where snowdrops and daffodils
sprout on their graves.
|
First published in the 2009 Spring issue (5.1) of Ribbons:
In the Tanka Café on the theme: The Diamond Sutra
Back and forth he walks
between the Twin Tower pinnacles
linked by a suture
high in the Manhattan dawn
diamond-strong his steps sparkling.
|
First published in the 2009 Summer issue (5.2) of Ribbons:
Artist's note from Liz Davis:
| ||
| ||
Artist's note (continued) from Liz Davis:
|
First published in the 2009 Autumn issue (5.3) of Ribbons:
In the Tanka Café on the theme: Visiting
Honey bees visit
each sweet pea diligently
hum of voices
my mother and my aunts
gliding among their sweet secrets.
|
First published in the 2009 Winter issue (5.4) of Ribbons:
|
Selected by the editor for commentary, praise,
and featuring on the issue's Back Cover:
Without coat or gloves
I walk into clouds and tears
walk on ash
on cremated bones
on the grit of souls.
|
In the Tanka Café on the theme: Winter Warmth
Practicing crêpes Suzette
she drops a match
into the rum
which blazes with a whumph ...
sets her halo of hair alight.
|
First published in the 2010 Spring issue (6.1) of Ribbons:
She feeds his letters
into the shredder —
iron stakes
stab over and over
his vampire heart.
|
In the Tanka Café on the theme: Vegetables
She says okra
won't be slimy
if prepared right —
I still don't trust
my new best friend.
|
First published in the 2010 Summer issue (6.2) of Ribbons:
Things I miss --
the dark body of the sea
the taste of salt
the starry nights
in your arms.
|
In the Tanka Café on the theme: Things That Revolve
Empty seaside field
the girl with a blond mane
turns and turns
invisible ponies gallop
endlessly round her.
|
First published in the 2010 Fall issue (6.3) of Ribbons
In the Tanka Café on the theme: Things That Fly
The agility
of the falcon alighting
on my fist, then
as she steps into the sky
my moment of envy.
|
First published in the 2011 Spring issue (7.1) of Ribbons:
I lug
ten pounds of salmon into
the eagle refuge
to help them stay wild
I don't look in their eyes.
|
In the Tanka Café on the theme "Art and Artlessness"
I come south
to be closer to the moon
and see colors by moonlight —
green of bamboo, blue of water,
red of your lips.
|
First published in the 2011 Summer issue (7.2) of Ribbons:
She wants to become
a solitary predator,
an assassin,
a Future Animal, aloft
on raven-black wings.
|
In the Tanka Café on the theme "Wandering"
Like a gentleman
he gives me his bed
sleeps on the couch
traipses in at 2 a.m.
pretending to sleepwalk.
|
First published in the 2011 Autumn issue (7.3) of Ribbons:
Trekking into the past
I spool out steel cables
hammer pitons into rock
drop breadcrumbs
plot my exit strategy
|
In the Tanka Café on the theme "Illusion":
Shimmering mirage
from the train window
they aim for Reno
the third marriage for him
the first for her
|
First published in the 2011 Winter issue (7.4) of Ribbons:
I bury the wedding ring in redwood roots on the anniversary of his last slow breath. |
In the Tanka Café on the theme "Horizon":
In silence she packs and unpacks her suitcase a dozen times first summer of widowhood first trip alone. |
First published in the 2012 Spring/Summer issue (8.1) of Ribbons:
Twenty-sixth day left foot in its pale-blue cast I trundle slowly a mile to the supermarket — the sweetness of a stolen grape. |
In the Tanka Café on the theme "Horizon":
The way nothing or almost nothing escapes a black hole's event horizon — the silence of a man I know. |
First published in Simply Tanka (2011):
A young friend
demonstrates wool spinning
after six decades
I'm once again a spinster —
the bitter taste of green tea
Sipping gunpowder tea
he calls in the teashop "who
can spell 'lecherous'?"
when three women reply
his smiling bow to each
|
First published in Simply Tanka (2011):
Wind dislodges
small stones from the cliff
rattles scrub-oak leaves —
the misty shape
around your absence
Untrimmed candle wick
the rainy dusk brightens
in the flame's flicker
third day of the vigil
her hesitant breath
|
First published in Simply Tanka (2010):
Signing my will
with a pen gold-embossed
'Circus Casino'
my funeral plans emphasize
boas, spandex, conga lines
Labour Day weekend
cleaning years of clutter
beneath the sink
bottles and tins almost full
so many tasks incomplete
|
Related pages:
Poetry index.
How to Write Poetry.
How to write specific forms: Haibun.
Haiku.
Hay(na)ku.
Rengay.
Tanka.
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Books of Poetry Form.
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Copyright
© 2008-2016 by Ariadne Unst.
The quoted poems are © 2008-2016 by J. Zimmerman. The artwork and photo of tanka at Cadillac Ranch © 2009-2016 by Liz Davis. |
[Thanks for visiting.]