Tanka
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M. Kei, US
at Mother's funeral,
just the family
and the woman
too proud
to be called a maid
he killed himself
in front of his mother
and she, only five foot tall,
couldn't stop him
but she tried.
two new graves
cut in the winter turf;
my sister buries
her mother
and her son
they lay him to rest
next to his grandmother
the thinnest scythe
of moon
sinks into the trees
no matter how
the river rushes,
it cannot wash away
the shadow
of the tree
he takes a teapot
from his collection
in the curio cabinet
and shares a silent cup
with his daughter
flotsam
after the storm . . .
the dock crumpled
on the beach,
seagulls fishing
in the waning hours
of day,
the moon rises
above
the waterfall
no matter
how I put
my shoulder
to the river,
it doesn’t budge
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Elizabeth
Howard, US
ranger-led hike
we spot crimson flowers,
jewel weed, purple asters,
at last, the blooms we seek,
pink turtle heads
driving west
through rain and truck spray
in the shelter of bridges
swallows flurry about
undaunted
chipmunks
eat peanuts on the porch
drink from the lily pond
reward us
with holes in the garden
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Deborah P.
Kolodji, US
button clatter
from mother's jar
as she mends shirts
lost dreams
of pebble beaches
the iris
are drying
by the zig-zag bridge
I breathe it all in,
slowly exhale
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Tad Wojnicki,
US / TW
roots grope around
and greep sheer rocks
as one after another
buds
go bad
temple columns rise
smooth and sunny
left and right
as though knowing I want
to say I love you
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Norla
Antinoro, US
defining sunrise,
for years your voice called out the day
but now as you sang
I saw your little topknot
and your cheerful funny face
nothing soft lies
here
it’s all harsh and prickly spines
adorned with flowers
the desert is not gentle—
arid beauty stark and harsh
that trilling sound
I long thought to be a bird
is a tiny squirrel
standing like a sentinel
calling warnings to the wind
mock orange
fragrance
softly fills the desert air
with its clever lie
only the honey bees
will be nourished at this tree
“beware beware”
the sentinel cries aloud
as the eagle drops
swiftly diving from the sun
death on wings of brilliant gold
eagle and hawk
share the land behind my house
telling stories
and in their wake the vulture
rides the thermals like a king
birdsong fades at
dusk
crickets start to chatter
the cicadas sing
as the desert night awakes—
the air like ebon crystal
moonset near silence
the day has come full circle
just before the dawn
I close my eyes at last to sleep
before the valley wakens
a seed falls to
earth
in frozen winter moments
held in icy breath
in stasis remaining ice
'til cold crystals start to melt
memories of hope
we launched her to the planets
never hoped for stars
her reach outstretched our every dream
ad astra Voyager now
I breathe crystal
frost
ring on ring around the moon
ice hangs in the air
full moon lights the winter night
crisp stillness in the shadows
frozen drops of rain
tapping the frosted skylight
fall like winter's tears
cold in the long dark nights
weep for the green that is gone
restless winter
leaves
pace across the valley floor
a santana wind
sets my soul to wandering
fretful in the desert breeze
here is the test
one of both fire and ice
at the edge of dark
alone on the embankment
and the river’s chill wind
finding common
ground
between intellect and heart
leaving off lament
finding strength in the noon sun
lost in the evening shadows
after the
bypass
pain my closest
friend
beside me with every step,
replacing my heart
with a bionic promise—
tomorrow's unseen sunrise
Madness reaches out
Touching fading rays of light
Day fades night now wakes
Screaming down into darkness
Takes my mind below the edge
Sitting by the fire
dreams consumed in ashes
keep me warm
for one payment one reward
loss and gain in balance
winter celebrates
deep under snow new life sleeps
winter mourns
cold a hand that stills old hearts
spring both memory and dream
river monster
raises high its crested head
above the torrent
it seeks to find its prey
loses sight and sinks again
Chameleon
Shifting through the rainbow
Blending
Remains through it all
The same lizard
moaning from the
wind
found a sadness in her heart
tears began to weep
falling to the arid sands
sorrow’s love gift to the land
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John Daleiden,
US
Tanka Sequence
While We Wait
ninety-four days
with not a drop of rain
in this Spring desert—
thank God we still make love
after forty-three years!
in the morning sun
the ancient saguaro
a-twitter with song—
my little bird, rest a while
by my side in this warm bed
do you think this
gray
in my hair is becoming?
yesterday, I cried
when my sister telephoned
to say her marriage ended!
our first grandchild
will be born in a few days!
how old we are now—
distant is the memory
of his pre-mature birth
listen to the wind—
perhaps the rains come today!
hold my hand awhile—
how tiresome, watching sand
trickle through the hour glass
red sky at sunset—
expecting sailor's delight
I trim my sails
perhaps our passions will meet
in perfect harmony
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