Undertow tanka review issue ^n 2
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Transcript of Undertow tanka review issue ^n 2
UNDERTOW TANKA REVIEW ISSUE # 2
Artwork by Sheri L. Wright, United States. Two-time Pushcart Prize and Kentucky Poet Laureate nominee, Sheri L. Wright is the author of six books of poetry, including the most recent, The Feast of Erasure.
Wright’s visual work has appeared in numerous journals, including Blood Orange Review, Prick of the Spindle, Blood Lotus Journal and Subliminal Interiors. In 2012, Ms. Wright was a contributor to the Sister Cities Project Lvlds: Creatively Linking Leeds and Louisville. Her photography has been shown across the Ohio Valley region and abroad. Currently, she is working on her first documentary film, Tracking Fire.
the lady next door
a Holocaust survivor
tortured yet again
by TV news coverage
of her grandchild's suicide
Debbie Strange, Canada
she kneels
in the spangled grass
listening deeply
to the opening hymn
of a monarch chrysalis
Debbie Strange, Canada
he is fading
his teenaged daughter
keeping vigil
paints his toenails
while he sleeps
Debbie Strange, Canada
moonbeam quills
through our windows
transcribing
the grammar of shadows
into the poetry of light
Debbie Strange, Canada
we walked
through the waterfall
in moonlight
behind veils of grace
the nakedness of mountains
Debbie Strange, Canada
the slow spin
of one maple seed
d r i f t i n g
in a downward spiral
another runaway child
Debbie Strange, Canada
a dreamcatcher
hangs above our bed
in that thin place
we are lingering between
hanging on and letting go
(note: "thin place" refers to the sacred space between heaven and earth)
Debbie Strange, Canada
was it absinthe
that green glass bottle
on the top shelf
did it swing my mother
in the belly of the sea?
Carole Johnston, USA
clairvoyant friend says
look for her in lunatic
asylums but I think
demon suicide took her
family bible stained by blood
Carole Johnston, USA
we'll take
the dog and the Malbec
we'll find
the highest hill for moonrise
enthralled in ancient magic
Carole Johnston, USA
pink pearl
rising translucent
enormous
butterfly moon
drunk on milkweed
Carole Johnston, USA
didn't know
I was a hedgewitch
secluded
behind a creaking gate
whispering butterflies
Carole Johnston, USA
ripe scent
of full dumpsters
the night
before garbage day
super moon light
Carole Johnston, USA
summer ending
I'm still butterfly crazy
kaleidoscope
all the colors of the sun
in my whirligig eyes
Carole Johnston, USA
high summer
poems about butterflies
fluttering
across computer screens
we feel them touch our fingers
Carole Johnston, USA
is this
the summer when
the world
incinerates itself
of just the beginning?
Carole Johnston, USA
Merlin
stars shimmering on
his purple robe
I loved the runic picture
in that antique book
Carole Johnston, USA
the dandelion
trapped beneath a rock…
a swell of tears
from the child not picked
at the adoption fair
Mary Davila, USA
her chest rising
as if she took a breath
in her casket
can she see the torment
in my parched heart
Mary Davila, USA
that window
we escaped through
fifty years ago
finally boarded up…
my fears ready for demolition
Mary Davila, USA
her soul teeters
on the edge of this world
afraid of addiction
her long stare at morphine
left by a hospice nurse
Mary Davila, USA
smoke billowed
through the treetops
I can only imagine
what I looked like
as a baby
Mary Davila, USA
the constant crash
of waves on rocks…
surges
in our argument
topple a sandcastle
Mary Davila, USA
endless meows
from the blue-eyed feral
under my empty sill…
how do I tell him
Pio’s gone to heaven
Mary Davila, USA
puddles on the asphalt
after the rain
she's not
ready to
let her sadness go
Dave Read, Canada
water leaking
through cupped hands
I tried to
hold you
to your promise
Dave Read, Canada
the first white hair
I pluck
from my eyebrow -
some souvenirs
we choose not to keep
Dave Read, Canada
twirling spaghetti
onto your fork
the little things
you do to
reel me in
Dave Read, Canada
a scratched
record
my memory
skips back to
how we lost our groove
Dave Read, Canada
the candles on
his birthday cake
are only dim
in the light
of his excitement
Dave Read, Canada
noting how
we've both grown
the creak of
my knees bending
to lift you
Dave Read, Canada
a finger trap
me and this sadness
unable to pull
away
from each other
Dave Read, Canada
tracing tracks of rain
down my office window
I ignore
the rising tide of
unaddressed requests
Dave Read, Canada
with the nothing
he had
on his mind
he filled
our conversation
Dave Read, Canada
my heart
grows wearier each day...
a kite flutters
in these vast skies
as though mockingly
Shloka Shankar, India
your voice
fills the blank spaces
in my head...
did we always repel
each other so much?
Shloka Shankar, India
a reprise
that constantly runs
through my mind…
how much is enough
till I quit?
Shloka Shankar, India
you unveil
a smokescreen before me
once again
those comforting lies
I still believe in
Shloka Shankar, India
desert winds...
in this wilderness
the plumage
of my desires
take shape
Shloka Shankar, India
Artwork by Sheri L. Wright, United States
this patternof leavesin every puddlereflections ofa lost dream
Vibeke Laier, Denmark
silent morninggrowing freelythis rosea reasonto live
Vibeke Laier, Denmark
spring morningthe name of a floweri always remembertaking herlast breath
Vibeke Laier, Denmark
beneaththe moon ofa quiet nightthe secret ofmy poetry dreams
Vibeke Laier, Denmark
trying to expresschildhood'snuances of lightfootprints onthe seaside Vibeke Laier, Denmark the secretswe sharein this moonlighta dreamon a distant star
Vibeke Laier. Denmark
The first blackberriesFat, deep purple, promisingStained fingers, stained lipsIt is just Assumption DayEarly winter, coming soon
Bee Smith, The Republic of Ireland
stirring the ashesI burn my fingershow foolisheven nowto think the fire is out
~after Antonio Machado
Kenneth Slaughter, USA
Loud music. Fake trees.Grim shoppers push through the crowds.Food smells compete withperfume. Windows show beach scenes.Tan models lie – Luck’s for sale. Alison Stone, USA
Late April (a tanka sequence)
Across the kitchentable, a miniatureping-pong net. The girlsgiggle as they hit wildly
or miss. Puff leaps for stray balls.
Outside, bleeding heartsdangle white valentines nearclumps of dark green shootswe don’t remember planting.The first daffodils are dead.
The cherry tree fedby my daughter’s placentapoofs with pink blossoms.The girls begin to argue.Their sharp voices join the birds’.
Alison Stone, USA
Artwork by Sheri L. Wright, United States
Daughter
(a tanka sequence)
I watch you inch out
further onto the ash branch,
wait for the swaying
to subside before you reach
& pull yourself to the end.
You always did think
yourself a bird. Sparrow, crow,
hawk: the great hunter,
always prepared to take fight—
for your wings to unfurl you.
Jenifer DeBellis, USA
albatross
(a tanka sequence)
“y hay cuerpos que no deben repetirse en la aurora”
Ode to Walt Whitman, Federico Garcia Lorca
there was a beginning
an invitation to play pool,
the maneuver
to have another beer
on our first night together
there was a middle
complications—a need to
see you on my bed
running your hands through
the carapace of my skin
there was an end
A Farewell to Arms
of forgotten names
the last clown in a parade
you taking down the marquee
Sergio Ortiz, Puerto Rico
fear
(a tanka sequence)
as punishment
he locked me in the closet…
little did he know
I was more afraid of the shadow
behind the door
to keep from peeing
a treasure hunt inside his shoes
a roman coliseum
a few garments that smelled
like fish offal and scissors
there was
no such thing as terror,
a stutter,
or my mother’s empty
embrace
Haiga: Sergio Ortiz, Puerto Rico Photo: Xiao, China
Tanka Art: Debbie Strange, Canada
Tanka Art: Debbie Strange, Canada
Tanka Art: Debbie Strange, Canada
Tanka Art : Mary Davila, USA
Pat Geyer, USA
blue shibori scarf
dances in swirling zephyrs
your glistening skin
between mine and naked sky
before we swim together
Alan Gann, Plano Tx, USA
seven seconds left
and with outstretched arms catches
fifty yard touchdown
cheering fans head for their cars
the home team beat the point spread
Alan Gann, Plano Tx, USA
took the back roads home
stopped to walk along the beach
barefoot in the tide
dolphins roll beyond the point
sand dollars fill my pocket
Alan Gann, Plano Tx, USA
flat rock does not care
for warming sun or bodies
inspired intertwined
like virgins looking into
depths of a patient quarry
Alan Gann, Plano Tx, USA
summer leaves falling
too tired and hot to hang on
the long days stretching
sky and soil and plum
waiting for the cool breeze
Alan Gann, Plano Tx, USA
Photography by poet: Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India
Wet morning, August
Has slipped away, dragged summer
Into soaking woods
Where small rabbits hide themselves
And squirrels bury rich fruit.
Steve Klepetar, USA
In the land of ice
A pale goddess rides her throne
Into winter’s night --
Wind moans in new ecstasy
And cold stars mock frozen earth.
Steve Klepetar, USA
My tongue on your thigh,
Your hands caressing my hair –
Only the slow death
Can shake us loose from moments
Grasped with such passionate force. Steve Klepetar, USA
A bright fish struggling
On my line sends splashing spray
Over the gunnels of my
Small boat, where I have waited
Patiently for this brief gift.
Steve Klepetar, USA
Sun rises over
Knife River. Mist breaks and fades
To wisps and is gone.
Small boat glides along green reeds
Merging with the song of frogs.
Steve Klepetar, USA
Here in the garden
Pumpkins blaze beneath tall corn.
An old woman bends
In cool morning to gather
Plump tomatoes for her feast.
Steve Klepetar, USA
She walks a long mile
Aching in stiletto heels.
Her car has broken
Down on a dark country road
Far, far out of cell phone range.
Steve Klepetar, USA
boxes waiting to be filled
others waiting for labels
I know you have to leave
but just yesterday
I nursed you at my breast
--Terrie Leigh Relf, USA
sirens. . .
then fire trucks, EMTs, police
gather like carrion birds at the shore
they come too often now
at summer’s end
--Terrie Leigh Relf, USA
the rattle of ice
scent of lemon
how each sip of tea gives rise
to stories you shared
stories I wish we’d written down
--Terrie Leigh Relf, USA
we soak our feet
in a tide pool
a rogue wave rises
but you reach out
before the cliff claims me
--Terrie Leigh Relf, USA
rain blows sideways
trees shiver and crack
I light a candle
sit by the window
listen to Brahms
--Terrie Leigh Relf, USA
only a few weeks
since last we spoke
I bake you biscotti
reach out for the phone
remember you have passed
--Terrie Leigh Relf, USA
Photography by poet: Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India
The stripes cup my breasts
like a dozen moons searching
for a sky to hold
them, as if a heavenly
body could ground them. As if.
Jenifer DeBellis, USA
—for Emily Dickinson
I wonder about
this wind, if, while you’re laughing
in your knowing way,
the softness of your sigh is
the bitter taste on my tongue.
Jenifer DeBellis, USA
Rushing through the door
as water flows from hoses,
I find the children
bickering like mockingbirds—
rankled song notes taken flight.
Jenifer DeBellis, USA
Secret garden blight
Winter’s raucous breath blows north
Snow turns into rain
Gargoyles spot warnings atop
Our upturned, curious heads.
Jenifer DeBellis, USA
Rose coals line the pit.
Poked, prodded, a smoke line lifts
from the pit’s center
in cursive swirls as if they
were written by ancient hands.
Jenifer DeBellis, USA
Eight arched windows frame
the garden room. Look upon
rolling greens lined with
balsam firs & lavender.
Hold back summer floral winds.
Jenifer DeBellis, USA
japanese maple
burns gold, citrus, vermilion
a silent witness
in the calm of afternoon
filters sunlight, sifts for truth
Jenifer DeBellis, USA
Photography by poet: Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India
charisma
she has it in spades
an ace
in the back pocket
of her frayed jeans
Stephanie Brennan, USA
white hot heat
amid the red and gold
of falling leaves
almost a punishment
for saying goodbye
Stephanie Brennan, USA
scorched
red clay loam
our footprints
inches deep in the dust
of smoldering recollections
Stephanie Brennan, USA
manzanita
the color of dried blood
splashed
among the live oaks
the forest of our desire
Stephanie Brennan, USA
raspberry sunset
the mountain outlined
a brash red
her long hair splayed
across his sleeping form
Stephanie Brennan, USA
a vision
cornflower blue dress
hoop earrings
dancing in his arms
ten years too late
Stephanie Brennan, USA
my path
a slippery slope...
tracing
the roots of trees
now overgrown
Pat Geyer, USA
no fresh ground
sand covered debris
waits to float away...
adrift when we meet
we rush back to sea
Pat Geyer, USA
clouds
overtake stars
moon runs
behind darkness...
they race til morning
Pat Geyer, USA
winter sky...
river of ocean
flows
too faint
to be seen
Pat Geyer, USA
playing in
a pile of leaves hearing
children's
scattered laughter...
I remember hope
Pat Geyer, USA
at sea
his life upends
into drink...
this pull of
the undertow
Pat Geyer, USA
bluest of blue
this undersea ridge...
waiting
we cross a bridge
to our ocean of dreams
Pat Geyer, USA
looking up
kites cut through the blue...
catching the tail
of the morning wind
together we fly away
Pat Geyer, USA
tears fall...
sea gull tries to fly
yet shreds
of plastic hold him
to where people forgot
Pat Geyer, USA
a rubix cube
a silk flower, a mood ring –
in grandmother’s purse
the things she carried
without knowing why
Susan Burch, USA
a single thought
of my father is
all it takes -
a teardrop in his urn
before I notice
Susan Burch, USA
too much cinnamon
in the applesauce
I gag
if only it were that easy
to catch you in a lie
Susan Burch, USA
changing my
missing person’s report to
stolen property
my husband
found with yours
Susan Burch, USA
towering
over everyone
my gigantic dad
who spends his free time
making miniature figurines
Susan Burch, USA
making her look like
their kidnapped daughter
the adopted girl
never sees a photo
of herself
Susan Burch, USA