The voice I’d lost . . . (tanka)

 

 

it took sixty years
to find the voice I’d lost–
that day
blue dragonflies
alighted at water’s edge

 

 

 

Moonbathing, a Journal of Women’s Tanka, Fall/Winter 2019.      
Edited by Pamela A. Babusci

Life

Two tanka were published in

 

Eucalypt Issue 27, 2019

 

 

miscarriage—
the very word
betrays
the promise
of hope

 

 

 

 

persimmon sun
dips low and sets –
moonlight on the bed
where I was born
& where my father died

 

 

 

Dove photo by Merlune

 

 

 

Lemon oil rubbed on old wood . . .

 

Blithe Spirit 29:4, 2019 (two tanka)

 

 

 

the familiar scent
of lemon oil rubbed
on old wood –
a new cat finds a place
in your empty chair

* * *

 

 

on the ground
a nest of hatchlings
fallen from a tree –
how well you always
hid your pain

 

 

 

Three Tanka in Gusts

Three tanka were published in the last issue of
Gusts, Contemporary Tanka  No. 30, Fall/Winter 2019

 

 

as Geminids flit by
in the inky darkness
I pull your jacket tight
around myself
. . . all I have left

 

∼ ∼ ∼

 

ripeness
bears its own burden . . .
fragrant peaches
   dangle low
       bruises   a breath   away

 

∼ ∼ ∼

 

 

in old growth grass     
a newborn fawn
wobbles on spindly legs –
a sure reminder
how brief a season is

 

 

 

Three in Kokako 31

 

KOKAKO 31 , 2019, a journal of the New Zealand Poetry Society

 

 

 

first apricots
the baby’s soft breath
in my ear

~

 

moonflower
night after night
that same dream

~

 

barely a whisper
between daylight
and nightfall
       when shadows
hide in darkness

 

Catching up!

Over the past few months, a lot of my work has been published, but I’ve been negligent in getting them posted. Breaking from my usual tradition of a separate post for each journal, I’m going to post all of them here in a single posting. Separate poems and journals are both divided by  ***.

 

 

Redlights, Volume 15, No. 2, June 2019

.

a day will come

when we are the faces

in old picture albums

and no one left

to give us names

***

 

babcia’s borscht recipe

in faded black ink—

can you smell the beets

bubble and hear her

hum along

 

 

Ribbons Spring/Summer 2019: Volume 15, No. 2

.

 

PET scan . . .

all the dogs & cats

I ever knew & loved

romp in the tunnel

where I lie in stillness

***

 

Ribbons Spring/Summer 2019: Volume 15, No. 2

Tanka Café:  Theme: What Matters [to You]

 

they say time

moves faster as we age

yet here I am

stealing an hour

to listen to the birds

 ***

 

cattails: The Official Journal of the United Haiku and Tanka Society, April 2019 Issue

.

 

late winter

the garden’s breath

shifts once more

 

*** 

 

one crow

and a clutch of chickadees

at the birdfeeder —

that simple need

to fit in someplace

       

 

***

 

 

Frogpond 42.2 * 2019

.

graveside—

white blossoms

lighten the darkness

 

 

*** 

 

 

Blithe Spirit 29.2, 2019

.

 

evening meditation

fireflies flit here

& there

                           & there

 

***

.

sacred sites

finding myself praying

in another language

.

***

.

the soft rustle

of quivering aspen leaves

over and over

I replay the words

I might have said

.

***

.

a feeling of you

standing behind me …

when I turn around,

only shadow

only silence

.

 

*** 

 

 

.

Moonbathing 20 Spring/Summer 2019

.

 

sea glass

    a distant story

        told in waves

            I long

                to read

 

.

*** 

.

The Heron’s Nest, Volume XXI, Number 2: June 2019

.

 

a single brass button—

I try to remember

his voice

*** 

.

Eucalypt  Issue 26,  2019

.

 

without warning

a leaf rises in the wind

then tumbles—

our need for forgiveness

so unexpected, too

.

(Eucalypt, The Distinctive Scribblings Awards)

http://eucalypt.info/E-awards.html?fbclid=IwAR2TIZkoI7env3GUJGjZftPzY1FSJbEBKzn5UTsZ7nmXxncO_NpCwyEzE_A

 

 

*** 

.

Gusts, Contemporary Tanka  No. 29, Spring/Summer 2019

 

.

 

faint notes

of a harpsichord

playing Bach –

why is it you always wait

for one wrong note

 

 ***

 

you pour a second cup

of pale moon tea

in a teashop in Prague

. . . I wonder what story

the leaves might tell

 

 

***

 

walking alone

past the tide’s own

push and pull –

I turn to see my footprints

wash away

 

 

*** 

 

 

Kokako 30, 2019

 

.

 

abbey ruins

voices of evensong

     nowhere                 everywhere

 

***

 

 

old burying ground

so many grave markers

buried too

 

***

 

 

in the coffee shop

a glimpse of someone

who looks just like you—

I quickly check my face

in a mirror

 

***

 

 

dark storm clouds

dissolve in sunlight

and shift again—

your changing moods

just as quick

***