Tanka – Deception The vines have curled up till she’s dressed within their arms. Astonishing green, to hide all the stress fractures now spider-webbing beneath. Kyoka – Toil Of A Water Witch Ginny Greenteeth waits, washes out last week’s litter from her pond weed hair. Snatches a plastic bottle like she would do a child. Ginny Greenteeth is from English folklore, and depending on your region her name can change from Ginny, to Jenny, or a number of other nom-de-plumes. It’s also the name used to refer to pond weed, or algae covering a pond’s surface and obscuring the water from view. She apparently lurks below the cover of the pond weed waiting for passersby to wander too close, so she can drag them to their watery depths. There are perhaps some waterways that wouldn’t be particular pleasant to skulk in these days. Gogyohka – After The Storm We eye the horizon like a child, question our certainty that the crying is done. Slowly, we return ourselves to the garden, we peg the washing out while …
The sun has turned most of the garden crisp, stems crunching to dust between fingers when I dig in between the leaves. Still, the lavender stands as it should, scent sticky on my skin, determined to be carried home into the house. Its flowers haven’t faded yet. It doesn’t seem to bow to heat the same. But between the lemon tree and dahlia, the herbs have taken refuge in the shadows of a water butt. There the decking still burns my feet by afternoon and moisture only lingers a little while upon the soil before vanishing. One by one they will succumb, no matter how often I tend them. Eventually night falls across this place and time, soaked in the day’s heat. Still this garden will shiver, weeping for the storms not come.
Sleep buzzes away like an insect to the light, fizzing back and forth. I lie awake for hours, just watching the night pass by. Written For The Weekly Tanka Prompt Challenge – Awake & Sleep
I thought I’d see in the new year with a couple of Tanka and a few Haikus: Haikus 1. These years pass quicker than the ones I remember dimmed in memory. 2. I resolve to write more, better, with passion just like every year. 3. I have failed some goals yet exceeded in some ways my expectations. 4. Approaching New Year… I’ve high hopes for you and me, not resolutions. Tankas 1. Here, it is raining heavy against the window. Close your eyes, listen. This sound does not change with time, this year, last and next… constant. 2. This year brought changes, graduation, moving out, engagement and mortgage plans. This year I have dived straight in. You, have kept me on my feet.
Your words bites and fizz. They leave scorch marks on my tongue. When I echo you, try to mimic your crackle, my fuses only splutter.
Fall in with me here, these lines will not march themselves. Why are you waiting? Stay and we will go without, leave you the dust of our wake. No idea what’s going on with my poetry recently.
In ancient Japanese, Chinese and Korean cultures, a practice was used at the time of death to capture the last words spoken. This practice was called jisei (in Japan) or death poem Written below are my entries for DVersePoets’ most recent prompt. Written By Grace from Bodhirose’s Blog, the challenge is to write a haiku or tanka in the theme of Jisei. Check out her fantastic post about them on the DVerse Poet’s Pub here! ——————– Jisei – A Tanka You can fall further than your heart would have believed into your own mind. It eats you alive this thing, mind, body and soul, all gone. Jesei – A Haiku In part it’s for you, all these words scattered around, they will outlast me.
If you stand outside, back to the kitchen window, eyes up to the night, you can see the Big Dipper. That’s the only one I know.
I thought it was them, despite all the difference that showed quite clearly: you were in no way the one that I was remembering. This is a combination of two prompts, the first being the official napowrimo prompt to write a ‘tanka’ and another prompt which was to write a poem that starts with seeing some who resembles someone else who is dead.