Modern TANKA Corner 2014 - 2017
Page 4.
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
2014 - 2015
spider weaves...
all these endless debates
spring again
on the antebellum porch
I rock my own silence
red flower~
in my father's village
there's no economy
of words
to praise my mother
by Ernesto P. Santiago
our footprints glow
with each step taken
along the shoreline
wet sand and fire algae
on a moonless night
by Janet Qually
cancer news...
the cliffs scattered
in a river
do they prevent
it from flowing?
by Rita Odeh (Nazareth, Israel)
snow on snow
to a colleagues remark
on my shirt
should i even tell him about me
sharing with my father?
Third Prize, Diogen Winter Tanka Contest 2013
playing
with my child
i hold on
to the child in me
returning spring
(Inner Art Journal, Issue 10.15.13)
by Ramesh Anand & Ranjana Pai
Only one bowl
of leftover soup...
even though
she's the one who's sick
she insists her husband take it.
Two weeks until Christmas
but the cherries
in front of the nursery school
think it's
the beginning of spring.
Pink camellia
in a shot glass
again I steal a sniff
of its perfume
like the thief I am.
Passing through Nara
en route to a temple...
I would rather be walking
through its narrow streets
touching little raku pots.
by Alexis Rotella
planting red and white
chrysanthemums
I'm startled
to realize my father
is still alive
by Miriam Sagan
strands of pearls
spill over my fingers
smooth and cool
reading his love letters
as the rain becomes snow
her angry back to his
finally, sleep
dawn finds them
nose to nose
with braided legs
by Jackie Maugh Robinson
our ancestral home
now in ruins
every nook
a secret pathway
into my childhood
by Shloka Shankar
she
smiled finally
her lips pink
unfurled like a rose
with a scent of approval
by Rajandeep Garg
2016 - 2017
lost child
heroin
her true love
sharing her body
with the dirty street
by Michael Green
outside, night strolls
on its high heels
I lie in wait of myself
the hours trip
on what I never say
Ms. Joplin
your voice rips apart
my face,
my tie― the mark
of all hanged men
by Sergio Ortiz
apple picking
each year with the children
now just we two
I gather the fruit
as I gathered memories
with comet speed
I fall in love
your smile and touch
pull me into your orbit
and land me gently
these early fall days
a bit of red here, gold there
quixotic splashes;
an artist testing colors
before filling the canvas
by Adelaide B. Shaw