Modern TANKA Corner 2011

Tanka (five lines with 5-7-5-7-7 or short-long-short-long-long structure), is one of the shortest literary art forms in the world that merges the perception of nature with a moment in human nature or with an event. They make the simplicity of a moment significant and memorable. Tanka have poetic patterns which fuse with descriptive ways of experiencing the wonders of the world and the human condition.

Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine hopes to capture the essence of the tanka tradition with all respect due to the Japanese art form.

Pays $1.00 per haiku if funds permit. Manuscripts cannot be returned.



Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine © 2007-2012   P.O. Box 17331    Arlington, VA 22216

falling from
low-lying clouds,
light flurries
and the voices
of snow geese

                        by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen






fight unresolved  . . .
so wanting to turn over
I remain
looking out of the window
and feel the moment pass




leaves hum
on a gentle note
a restfulness
as I lie under the canopy
of dancing thoughts



 
all around me
champa and chameli blossom
never satisfied
I wondered from childhood
what it would be to be a sunflower


                        by Kala Ramesh





cut, fold, tape.
the girl does it again
and again:
gift-wrapping
her life in holiday seasons




nothing new
under the sun --
I wage
one fight after another
against a poet’s loneliness




constantly
standing before the attic
mirror
on these winter days
makes me feel less alone





standing like a pole
on the street corner
he shouts...
a string of Chinese f-words
at the white sports cars




all that noise
through the paper-thin wall
in my motel room
I start counting
summer stars in the window 




my powwow solo
makes the attic as big
as the whole world...
hanging low in the sky
the mid-autumn moon




my dog
seems to know the length
of its leash
I've no clue
how to measure nostalgia

                         by   Chen-ou Liu




on tatami
a young girl plays
the samisen –
while her father is out
making money.




before getting down
to it
the businessman
and his new mistress
discuss last night’s moon.


                         
by   Alexis Rotella





I sleep
in his shirt
so I wake
smelling
of happier times




velvet petals
of snapdragons
crumble
into dust
beneath his rough hands




snow-speckled mountains
the last thing
I see
riding the crest
of an avalanche


                         by Tracy Davidson




she asks 
if I want children
a breeze through
the half-open window
flips the calender


                          by   Lucas Stensland




samsara..
winged maple seed
blown far from your tree
we are not so different
you and I..





all too human
we map archipelagos
and plot the stars
yet pin our hopes
on cherry blossoms


                          by   Claire Everett





I close the door
to quiet her cries
pushing hard
against
my guilt




summer heat
we make our escape
by reading
about penguins
in Antarctica




I’m here
but now
I forgot why –
one perfect thumbprint
on the chrome faucet

                    by Christina Nguyen 




all these socks
without mates,
yet not one 
of them is willing
to pair up with another





beyond the flickering
wafts of sandalwood incense,
the shadowy presence
of things unseen 
but not unfelt





my cat
attempting to escape
by digging a hole
all the way 
to China


                              by   M. Kei





school of angel fish
flashing the sun of heaven
turn right on a dime
which I pick up off the sand
to drop in the box at church
 
 
                             by William Cullen, Jr.





her last letter
smells of withered roses...
counting
chocolate hearts
I've eaten since daybreak




Only You
from the stereo she gave me
years ago --
one glass after another
the moon and I get drunk




bare maple tree
standing on the front lawn…
with no one around
I speak to it
in my mother tongue




in the depths
of an autumn night
the mailbox
of a foreclosed home
click-clack, click-clacks...

                              by   Chen-ou Liu




the year West Nile
wiped out the crows
we had to go it alone
without omen
or apparition




beneath her fingers
the strains of Liebesträume
lull us to sleep
damper pedal staying
a mutual fear of the dark

                      previously published "Modern English Tanka, Winter 2008



the half-moon’s
fitful dreams
this sweltering night
on half
a sleeping pill




delicate tracings
transparent
to the sun—
veins
of red hibiscus




the cardinal
shows interest
in his song alone
leaving the crows
to quarrel


                             by Brian Zimmer



fourth of July—
in place of watermelon
my sister bakes
mother’s lemon meringue
perfumed with our childhood


                              by  Margaret Dornaus





the lake
freezes over
tonight. . .
remembering you
under this full moon


first published in Notes from the Gene, Issue 4 - March 2010

                                     by   R.D. Bailey





I stare out
the same drunken moon
shines
where I grew up...
China Roses on the stereo
 



fluttering
against the attic window
on winter days
like Sisyphus
my butterfly dream keeps trying
  
                             by   Chen-ou Liu






moon viewing 
I reach out my hand 
as if
you were here
beside me

                               by  Paul Smith






Mom
when will the angels
stop their bowling --

I want to go outside
and play.




High tea
at the Ritz --
as the harpist plays
my mother
dunks her scone





Business slow--
I rearrange remedies
on the shelves
hoping for
better days

                             by   Alexis Rotella






if these winds
take me away
just know
my heart
will remain here...





hurricane
evacuee
her guitar somewhere...
waiting
to be strummed





eye of the storm
in exhausting quietude...
loneliness
doesn't sound so bad
after all





hurricane  
aftermath 
in my eyes 
the serenity 
of our tomorrow





after the wake
a butterfly
tangled in the breeze...
thoughts of you,
more beautiful

            in memory of Barry A. Bailey





afraid to face
the reality
of a love lost
I hold tight, my dreams of you
like balloons in the wind




I am
your cup of coffee waiting
where you left me...
trying to keep myself warm
till you return




when I want to hear 
your voice...
I open my window
and listen to the hum 
of autumn wind gusts




I can call you
by any name
and they all suit you
like the sunrise
and sunset...




drowning
in this summer love
finding
sometimes its better
not to learn to swim...




how easily a child
finds rhythm in raindrops
while I still search
to find the rhythm
of your heart




even 
an unwanted tear
glistens beautifully 
under tonight's
autumn moon




a vee of geese
show her 
the direction
his heart
has gone




fragile:
the way you feel
between my fingers
how delicately
      I rub your petals




you gave me
wings
only to clip them...
and watch
as I fall




childlike innocence--
you pluck
the very petals
that once made me
beautiful in your eyes





Can I be that rainbow
you look towards
when you feel
there's nothing left
to smile about?




a pallid rose
still holds beauty
   in my eyes
   what matters most
    right now




you are water
cupped in my palms
seeping
through the space
left between us

                          by   R.D. Bailey    






his desire
recedes
with each step
added
to the bridge

                          by Brian Zimmer





a spot 
on her right lung--
he chain-smokes
for the rest of the day
in front of the T.V.
  
                             by   Chen-ou Liu





my life:
the last embers
of a dying cigarette
where the ashes
dream of someday
igniting again       

                              by Josh Bunin
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the old village pond
goes up a tornado's spout
and then come reports
of perch falling like manna
on the poor side of town
 
                              by William Cullen, Jr.
 
 
 
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