Modern TANKA Corner 2009 - 2010

Page 1.

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 tanka if funds permit. Manuscripts cannot be returned.                    

Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine © 2007-2019

in my half empty glass
a half moon
as I reflect
on my sinking dreams


rising from the earth
new hyacinths
to replace the old
a toddler asks
"So when's grandpa coming back?"

late afternoon stroll
humming to myself
I ignore bird calls
taking the same path as me
and the setting sun

I am a seashell,
sitting by the shoreline
waiting for someone
to notice my beauty
and make me theirs

in her song
sorrow kept pouring
like monsoon rain in my cup
and it filled my ears
this black summer night

                         by R.D. BAILEY
                         (first published in Modern English Tanka 12, 2009)

busier than spring
cherry blossoms
in every picture
petals fall

open casket:
we used to watch
the autumn moonset...
relatives bicker
over her estate

                 by Raquel D. BAILEY

                (first published in Red Lights, June 2009)

autumn leaves...
nurses remove
his browning sheets
while silence grows
even on tree branches

a gathering
of crickets communicate
better than we do

                by R.D. BAILEY
               (first published in Atlas Poetica #4, Summer 2009)

your thoughts
are children at play
on monkey bars
swinging, dangling
until they fall

              by Raquel D. BAILEY
              (first published in Ribbons, Summer 2009)

I see it
deep in your eyes
a mythic bird
beautiful wild
and free

             by Paul Smith
            (first published in Modern English Tanka V3 N4 - Summer 2009)


a sliver of moon
in the clear night sky
but not
the faintest notion
you were leaving

             by Paul Smith

Sunday morning --
the choice of drifting snow
or banked mounds
of equally mum
student papers

flu shot line --
the diabetic lady
grins and points
up the wind-blown skirt of her
blue Marilyn Munroe tattoo

             by  Richard Stevenson  

there was a hole,
I filled up the ear
of the younger sister
with a diamond

was the lucky life
until yesterday-
I laughed
until yesterday

             by Matsusita Chie

afternoon rain shower
across the high plains
scent of ponderosa pine
in cool tundra breeze
from nearby mountains

             by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen

from her
string of pearls
I now wear …
a lingering scent
of fresh roses

             by Nancy Nitrio

should you decide
to paint a memory of me
while dreaming,
let it be like the glimmer
on an evening lake

                by Darrell Lindsey

we spend
our anniversary
songs of summer
fly south for the winter

                         by R.D. BAILEY
                         (first published in Wisteria, January 2009)

interview day
judging business rivals
in the waiting room…
I check my reflection 
in the firm’s koi pond

                          by C. William Hinderliter

the last tea bag -
i think of my father
after all these years
not knowing why he left

            by Brendan Slater

my hand now rests
on the slightly damp pillow
blue veins throbbing
against my wrist bone
the first birdsong outside the window

                     by Deirdre Grimes

Who am I
sitting by the stream?
Nothing but a speck
on the blue veined arm
of morning


In the tumbling ecstasy
of a moment's wings
two butterflies
have found


Miles away
a piece of the stream
is still singing
of the loss
of the heron's reflection


Rain clouds
hang from the boughs of the sky
but for now
only the blossoms


Stepping out to drink
across sun silvered distance
the deer
of a poem
asks to be written   

                     by Claire Everett

I stop to pick
a roadside flower
as if this
could ease
the pain of leaving

the adventure
of a lifetime...
my fingers trace
the shape of her spine
by moonlight

after the storm
each blossom
comes alive
with poetry

beneath the wind
the earth is singing
there are no strangers
in this world

I feel the weight of me 
more and more
as swallows
weave their signature
through sky

her words
have painted a meadow
in me
where countless flowers

against the walls
of my mind
this longing in me
is a butterfly

colour the breeze
at the meadow’s edge
as we walk
into our dream

                       by Paul Smith

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