Tanka Sequence (Set)

Clothes

sunflowers
splashed all over
my dress—
bare-armed, I scattered
the seeds of childhood

for so long
she draped it around herself
the same thick cloak
that near the end
slipped off her shoulders

—Skylark, 5:1, Summer 2017

Bridge may ice

bridge may ice,

shoulder ends ahead—

road signs

I see for the first time

soon after her passing

–Ribbons, winter 2016/17

Even in Texas, out here in the country, bridges can ice in winter, though we only had a few "real" days of winter this winter.

A stream of warmth

a stream of warmth

from this vent in the floor ...

the people

from all my winters

who still hold onto me

—GUSTS, 24, Fall 2016 

Merry Christmas, Seasons Greetings
from my small corner to yours!

Ragweed grains

ragweed grains

carried on autumn wind ...

not all things

that arrive at my door

do I welcome with grace

—Eucalypt, 20, May 2006

Summer nights

summer nights

of sleepovers

and secrets ...

only the moon

stayed up as late

—Ribbons, Tanka Cafe (theme: spring/summer), spring/summer 2016

When we were young kids, why was it so exciting to spend the night with friends and cousins? And why was it such a thrill to stay up until at least midnight, whispering, and also, if we managed to pull it off, downing "midnight snacks"? Back when times were much simpler….

Summer sun

summer sun

our minds bare and aligned

we discuss

both the pain of change

and the need for it

—Eucalypt, 19 (fall 2015)

Short green tufts

short green tufts


are all I can see—


crocus blooms


snipped off by wildlife


eager to taste spring


—cattails, May 2016

No crocus blooms this spring,
but we saw several in March 2015

Early spring

early spring 

the soft growth of antlers ...

a chill

each time my eyes meet his

on the hunter's trophy

—Skylark (a "Skylark's Nest" runner-up), 3:2, Winter 2015

A small boy; superimposed

a small boy

staring out at a world

he doesn't know—

snug in his flannel robe,

shrouded in illness

superimposed

on a snowy mountain,

my unclothed self …

no pockets to carry

the answers I want

—both of these from A Hundred Gourds, 5:2, March 2016

P.S. The little boy is a teenager now and doing very well indeed—thriving!

Bitter wind

bitter wind
the scent of orange
in my face cream

—Mariposa, 33, Autumn/Winter 2015

One sultry day

one sultry day
sinks into the next ...
a mud dauber
intent on mating
with its reflection

—A Hundred Gourds, 3:4, September 2014

Curls of bark

curls of bark,
a crepe myrtle 
before spring …
the core of my being
smooth, unblemished

—GUSTS, No. 21, Spring/Summer 2015

December sky

December sky

sifts through the charred forest—

over the phone

my brother and I

resurrect our ghosts 

—The Bamboo Hut, vol 1, no. 2

This one was written in December 2011, three months after the second, and most destructive, set of wildfires of the year swept through our region. Flames were practically at our "back door," and we had to evacuate (right after we'd relocated there) for eight days. In this same time frame, one or two additional fires apparently were deliberately set at the front of our little community.

On a very different note:

H A P P Y  N E W  Y E A R !

Off the freeway; my father

off the freeway
in an open field
a vast church
its cross shaped in a curve
as if to hold the world

—kernels, 2013

my father

who rarely ever hugs

halfway does ...

bells begin to ring

this Christmas season

—Frameless Sky, December 2014

Frameless Sky is a new, innovative DVD journal from the creative Christine L. Villa.

Autumn gust

autumn gust—

from all the earrings

in the shop

I pick out the pair

resembling spring leaves

—Atlas Poetica, #17, Spring 2014

Snapping ends

snapping ends

off fresh asparagus—

this brisk fall day

the satisfaction

that comes with clean breaks

—Ribbons "Tanka Cafe" ("endings" theme), Winter 2014  

Summer gone

summer gone

a crowd of Susans

against the fence ...

dark eyes still smiling

in their come-hither way

—The Bamboo Hut, vol 1, no. 2, January 2014

A fleeting feeling

a fleeting feeling
of permanence—
my feet set
on this parking lot
of steaming concrete

—Streetlights, Poetry of Urban Life in Modern English Tanka, 2009

A cool front recently stormed through, meaning that the highs were "only" in the upper 80s. But I suspect we'll have quite a few more days of steaming concrete before autumn truly sets in. 

Your green tail

your green tail

thin as this brown limb—

o chameleon

in a parched world

why the half-hearted disguise?

—Skylark, 1:2, Winter 2013

Flip-flops

flip-flops
slap the ground harder
after class—
just seven, but who else
had ever flunked "swimming"?

—Simply Haiku, Spring 2008, vol 6 no 1

Those swimming lessons, at the public pool down the street, were the first I ever had. I was doing okay, I thought, until I made it to one of the intermediate levels, taught by a "mean" sixteen-year-old who liked to yell. At least, that's my excuse.

That pool is still there.