How light; futile to try

how light

can resculpt a face

… if for one day

I could be everyone

I've been loath to like




—Ribbons (runner-up, Tanka Café, "Changing the World"), Fall 2015


Thanks to poet James Chessing for his insightful comments in the Tanka Café feature of the Winter 2016 issue of Ribbons, the Tanka Society of America journal. The above poem is mine. But congratulations to Joyce S. Greene for her winning Café poem, included below with her permission. FYI, for each issue of Ribbons, members are invited to submit tanka on a specific new theme. The winner from the previous issue makes the selections.

futile to try
to change the world
I can't change myself
all my vows to worry less
and chuckle more, forgotten

~Joyce S. Greene
—Ribbons (winner, Tanka Café, "Changing the World"), Fall 2015

Tanka sequence

Shop of scents 

each soap 

a piece of artwork … 

part of me knows

the sculpted designs 

will in time wash away

a fresh spray 

of "triple cool mint"— 

this desire 

to smell like a patch 

of garden herbs 

"lavender silk" 

for experienced skin ... 

I buy a bar, 

trusting the store clerk 

to keep my secret 

—red lights,  vol. 12, no. 1, January 2016

This shop is in San Luis Obispo, California.

Long cracks; the way lines

long cracks
in the asphalt road
near our house—
each morning I walk
my own damaged trail

the way lines
seemed to form overnight
around my mouth
... as if I had smiled
one time too many

—both individual tanka: kernels ("featured poet"), Summer 2013 
Note: The online journal kernels has morphed into cattails, but the archives are available.

Impulsively; I think of buying

impulsively

I lop the old hibiscus

down to its base;

what need I must have

to challenge my faith

I think of buying
a lily
this week,
my deluded body
clinging to spring

—Simply Haiku, Autumn 2006

Above, my first Dutch iris that actually has bloomed, though I see something's already chewed on it. The squirrels may have dug up most of the bulbs I planted a couple of years ago; a surprise to find this bloom the day before Easter.

The old hibiscus, by the way, and a couple of others, finally bit the dust this winter. They had been through a lot: droughts, freezes, a move or two, and no doubt some owner neglect.

Long dark hair

long dark hair
tossed until it's tangled;
I use it
to sweep up the crumbs of me
you've failed to notice

—Fire Pearls (2006)

I wrote this while I was in the middle of a "live" e-mail conversation with someone. There's kind of a funny story associated with it.

New Anthology: For those of you who write tanka or other short 5-line poetry, note that submissions currently are being accepted (until March 15) for Fire Pearls 2: Short Masterpieces of Love and Passion.

He scrutinizes

he scrutinizes
their every play;
I'm in it
for the commercials
and their firm Super Bowl butts

—Prune Juice, Issue 3: Winter 2010

Autumn wind

I rarely write haiku—the tanka form seems to fit me better—but every now and then I guess I want to say a little less.

photo copyright of Robert Curtis

autumn wind

the whole earth woven

into my hair

—Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine, 2011

She warns me; I cringe

A couple more kyoka, or kyoka-like tanka, from Prune Juice:

she warns me
not to let the cat get out,
her old Persian
that barely even moves
an inch an hour

I cringe
at my reflection . . .
the charm
with which he offers
to bash out all our mirrors

—Prune Juice, Issue 9, July 2012

See "Kyoka vs. Tanka - examples" by M. Kei at his Kujaku Poetry & Ships blog. 

Having lost

having lost

some of the brightness

from my eyes

I choose a new shirt

in cloudless-sky blue

—American Tanka, #21, June 2012

More photos by ImageANAlogy: 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/imageanalogy/