under spring skies, the evergreen - thick with new needles - echoes the tune sung by hardwood neighbors
POEM: Newly Evergreen [PoMo Day 16 – Tanka]
Reply
Tag Archives: tanka
POEM: Humbling Rest [PoMo Day 12 – Kyōka]
panting, i sit on a rock, beside the trail, watching porters pass loaded with logs and plywood -- followed by cows, and goats, and...
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
POEM: Prayer Flags [Tanka]
flags flapping, twisting on a line, colors bright on the arid mountain -- desolation décor
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
POEM: Volcanic Tanka
the cone looms as the city's backdrop, drawing the eye -- some things are prettier in death than in action
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
A Kyōka on Uninhabitable Islands
River Boulder Tanka
smooth boulders
dragged ever so slowly,
tumbling in floods,
sitting so far from the river
that they seem untouchable
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Changing Skies: Three Tanka
I
a gray day,
low dreary clouds hang down;
smoky air
clings to the earth —
all is close; nothing moves
II
tall puffy clouds
drift across the sky
like ship’s bridges,
moving in armada
through skies, calm & blue
III
a blue dome,
unblemished by clouds
if not for birds
looking to the sky
would stop the world
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Spring Blossom Tanka
blossoms fall,
tumbling in a stiff breeze;
on the ground
they form a purple shadow,
ignoring the sunlight
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Three Kyōka of Animal Aggression
I
three monkeys
look down from a high branch;
one throws a pit;
a tourist dodges left,
right into the pit’s path
II
a goose struts,
then wheels about – wings flaring –
Karate Kid,
but standing on both legs —
feint with foot, jab with beak
III
a llama
spits in some poor girl’s face
as if she
were Hitler or Kim Jong-Un
classy, Llama, real classy
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Three Rolling Hill Tanka
I
granite domes
bubble from the flat lands,
earthly zit, or
beauty marks written
in topography
II
the foothills
spread from the mountains
like ripples,
echoing from
the cordillera
III
four horses,
standing on the hilltop,
as if meeting,
but with no common
vision or purpose
