Cruising waters

cruising waters
where the great auk once thrived …
what of me
is prized enough
for the greedy to seize?

—Skylark 2:2, Winter 2014, "Skylark's Nest" clutch of runners-up

Skylark is a wonderful journal of tanka and its related forms, edited by poet extraordinaire Claire Everett and including a liberal sprinkling of artwork by her talented daughter Amy. With this issue, fellow poet-blogger Jenny Ward Angyal officially joins the crew as reviews and features editor. 

Each issue, poets are invited to write a "Skylark's Nest" tanka inspired by a nature-themed drawing. 

I was happy to be able to cruise northeastern waters last spring. My travels included a side excursion to the Bird Islands off Nova Scotia. The great auk no longer exists, thanks to exploitation by humans, but from a distance, through thick cloud cover and drizzle, I managed to see a few of its relatives, i.e., puffins and razorbills. 

Razorbills: Bird Islands, Nova Scotia, Canada

Autumn gust

autumn gust—

from all the earrings

in the shop

I pick out the pair

resembling spring leaves

—Atlas Poetica, #17, Spring 2014

Still haunting me

still haunting me 
from time to time in dreams ...
your jet-black hair 
highlight-streaked to cover
the gray you now must have

—Modern English Tanka 3, Spring 2007

H A P P Y   H A L L O W E E N

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  

At the ER

at the ER

a fleeting connection ...

the screams

of an unseen stranger

echoing mine

—Atlas Poetica, #18, Summer 2014

Drawn to sweetness

They live in our house,
fleck-sized species of their family.
Have marched miles, as if
from San Antonio to Houston,
in dampness and crushing heat.
Through minute cracks,
they welcome themselves inside,
scale guts of walls until,
for them, nirvana.

Their barracks behind kitchen tile
and bathroom mirror,
they lap up microspecks
of apple juice and minty mouthwash.

I am a poor host,
half-heartedly remorseful.
To think, all that distance—
and then when rations are found,
wiped clean away with a corner
of moistened paper towel.

I console myself with knowing
each troop will soon enough
be replaced by another.

—Ash Canyon Review, Summer 2005, vol. 1, no. 1

In noonday sun

in noonday sun

a buttermilk racer

hugging the house –

as I inch closer

my fear slinks away

—A Hundred Gourds, 3:3, June 2014

Announcement: An Unknown Road

Thought I'd point you to an award-winning haiku collection that's available through Amazon Kindle: An Unknown Road by Adelaide B. Shaw, poet/writer and fellow blogger. Travel with Adelaide on a journey through the seasons—across farmland, along railroad tracks, by hills and streams, in the garden, and at the shore. Enjoy her truthful, down-to-earth style. Also see Potpourri, Volume 1, a short story collection.