Tanka Sequence

Shared paths

 

dusty tracks

crisscross the asphalt ...

what creatures

walk these paths at night

where I walk by day

 

a robin

by this woodland trail ...

nestled in grasses

then gone in a flash

before my camera click

 

yellow jackets

swarm on the same blooms

I want to touch—

if we ignore each other

can we really coexist

 

bones, teeth, tusks

of Columbian mammoths

excavated

from this very ground

beneath my human feet

 

    —the Waco [Texas] Mammoth National Monument

—Earth: Our Common Ground (anthology, Skylark Publishing), 2017

Tanka Pair

From a seedling

on one branch

early slaveholders, 

on another 

an abolitionist . . .

the shades of my forebears 

beneath the ground

the remains of a tree—

till I phone her

she doesn't realize

it's Mother's Day

—Skylark, winter 2016

I had intended to post this here in time for Mother's Day. I believe "beneath" was written in May 2015.

The abolitionist refers to a colorful, English-born great, great grandfather of mine who was acquainted with the well-known antislavery figure John Brown. Luckily, he didn't ride with the gang that fateful day to Harper's Ferry. Other ancestors of mine, from another line, settled in Virginia Colony from England around 1650. It appears that ancestors on that "branch," early on, were landholders and possibly surveyors. And, yes, apparently at least some of them had a few slaves.

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

Tanka Sequence

Homegrown 

for Sandy 

for years 
she couldn't venture 
into the garden— 
there, on the paving stones, 
is where she found him 

resurrecting 
the raised tomato bed 
plant by plant, 
she sinks her fists deep 
into dark compost 

Lily, 
her gardening dog, 
at her side ... 
a bounty of earthworms 
and a small patch of peace  

—Skylark, 3:2, Winter 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.

Collaborative tanka sequence ("tanka pair")

I'm pleased to post this tanka pair, a collaboration with the talented Jo McInerney:

Mementos 

Janet Lynn Davis, USA ("what to keep")
& Jo McInerney, Australia ("we repair")

what to keep, 
what to throw away ...
tiny rhinestones 
missing from the wings 
of her butterfly brooch 

we repair 
her diamante bow 
before pinning it 
to her burial shift ...
the hope of resurrection 

—Skylark, 4:1, Summer 2016

From Jo:
The woman for whom this tanka was written was Mum's oldest sister and outlived her by 27 years. She was my daughter's surrogate grandmother and my second mother. When she died I felt as though I had been orphaned again. 

From Janet:
This is my first Mother's Day without the earthly presence of my mother, Joan (pronounced JoAnn), who passed away on April 20 after a lengthy, debilitating illness. The world feels a little silent now. (I did, of course, keep the butterfly pin.)

Joan 

Collaborative tanka sequence: Ash and embers

Many thanks to the magnificent Susan Constable, poet and tanka editor for A Hundred Gourds, for working with me on this collaboration: 

Ash and embers

Janet Lynn Davis &
Susan Constable

grass clippings 
still heavy and slick 
from a downpour— 
the last bits of summer 
clinging to their source 

the biggest bloom 
in the dahlia garden 
fades and curls … 
a friend in palliative care 
turns away from us all 

pale gray walls 
becoming grayer ... 
at ninety         
my grandmother
says she wants to die  

I touch the stove 
warm from ash and embers            
this morning 
the first shoots of daffodils    
poke through melting snow   

—Ribbons, spring/summer 2015  

Note: Susan's tanka are "the biggest bloom" and "I touch the stove."

Tanka sequence

165 feet down 

drilling down 
to the other side 
of the world 
or to an aquifer, 
whichever comes first 

images 
of groundwater teeming
below our feet— 
the drought years we've had 
living on the surface 

well water 
speaks its own language 
as it streams 
into this bucket
… the rush of first words 

—red lights, January 2015

With this, I think I may take a break for a few weeks—many things I should do, and I also think I need to rest my eyes—though I may still post an announcement or two. I'm not sure who all my readers are, but thank you and please don't wander off too far. To the other side of the world and back, though, is okay.

Collaborative tanka pair: Sanctum

Happy Winter Solstice! Glad to share this "tanka pair" with all of you. And glad I was able to collaborate with poet extraordinaire Jenny Ward Angyal.

Sanctum

Janet Lynn Davis

& Jenny Ward Angyal

ancient chapels

carved into the rock face

of Mönchsberg ...

once the tourists have gone

I crawl inside myself

JLD (Salzburg, Austria)  

inscribed 
on the torii gate
spirit of light—
fountains flowing
in the falling snow

JWA (New York City, USA)

—Skylark, 2:1, Summer 2014

photos of Mönchsberg next post

Collaborative tanka sequence: a swatch of gauze

Writing responsive or other collaborative sequences appears to be quite popular for many tankaists these days. Here's one I wrote with poet Jenny Ward Angyal (also see the previous post). In my several years as a tanka poet, I'd never collaborated in sequence form before; neither had Jenny. It was a fascinating experience, and I was honored to have such a good partner. Hope you enjoy the little journey we took as we responded to each other's words. Was the journey imaginary or "real"?

P.S. We decided to post this sequence on our respective blogs at around the same time.

a swatch of gauze

the clear wings

of a dragonfly

on my hand

a treasure map

of copper veins

poking 

into the hollow

of an oak

I search for pennies

stashed away by an elf 

hidden

among apple blossoms,

a gray tree frog—

I follow the trill

of another world

visions

of a watercolor

mountainside ...

how to get there

when I have no brush?

quilting

the blue ridge

in light and shadow

I slip through the eye

of my own needle

left right

north south east west—

a feather

on a course of zigzags

becomes my compass 

a sparrow

missing one eye

alights on my knee ...

the distant music

of a blind harper

rendered mute

by a waterfall—

in a grotto

of lava and fern

I speak in poems 

a scallop shell

bound in a bale 

of mulch—

my inland journey

to the sea

at home

among pine needles 

a strand

of golden thread

to bind my seams

—Jenny Ward Angyal and Janet Lynn Davis

Skylark, Winter 2013

Sequence: At Oso Bay

At Oso Bay

wildlife refuge—  

a friendly welcome sign

plus a warning

      human visitors

      under surveillance

waterbirds

by the hundreds

at the bay's edge

my camera and I

trying to blend in

how the world

can change in an instant:

white wings

of a pelican

low over my shoulder

this mussed hair

dampened by drizzle;

on the bank

of a waterway

a heron preens its feathers

my skin's pallor

in the light of home . . .

for my profile

I choose a photo

of a roseate spoonbill

Corpus Christi, Texas—named "America's Birdiest City" for 10 straight years.

—Ribbons, Spring/Summer 2013

Tanka sequences: It's generally accepted that each unit in a sequence of tanka should be able to stand alone reasonably well; in other words, it should make reasonable sense if extracted from the sequence and read by itself. So, the various tanka in a sequence don't function in quite the same way as verses do in a longer (for example, free verse) poem. 

English-language tankaists continue to explore sequences. I tend to think of sequences as involving progression or development and using links, even if subtle, from one tanka to the next. Readers might be interested in checking out an article by M. Kei on sets (a generic term for groupings of tanka, including loosely organized ones) and sequences in the recent Fall issue of Ribbons, the Tanka Society of America's journal.