Posts Tagged Tanka
The Power of the Great – Monday’s Donation to the Opponents
Scorching cries, skin flows.
Shy, fairness never arrives.
Stuff broken red teeth,
beg for nothing, statues blue,
not trophies, but love towers.
Grappling with tattered
fame, losing murky powers.
Growing ego soothes,
removing struggle and grays.
Free fall, same right, left, no push.
.
Disturbed Park Forest
Chaos of machines
in park built for gentle peace.
Insanity row
blowing awful comedy
across seas of weakened trees.
Not Sharp
Reflection deceives.
Hope I might look sharp Friday,
but of bagginess,
suit hangs like rags, dark stained ties,
patterns from old times wilting.
Making a man old,
shirts that are lose on the neck,
as who wants to choke?
Shoes, scratched, polished, but cloddish,
If not sharp, I’ll be stupid.
I Just Can’t Do It
For a few days now, I’ve had a concern that I might have writer’s block. I’ve never had writer’s block, so I wasn’t sure how to judge the feeling. Today, I figured out that my mind and my inner-critic has frozen me dead.
Recently, I was encouraged to try choosing a form and to do some form poetry. As some of you may know, I have been working with Tanka. I loved the form because it produced a certain economic thinking about words, which makes me choose words more carefully. However, now I find that I can’t write with form or without form. I realize that I can’t express myself well with the form, and when without a defined form, I now seem to feel lost because I realize I don’t have any good sense of economy or clarity. I might take a month off and take up photography or painting.
Nature Groans
Warm fuels green fusion
specks, contrails, windows, insects.
Swim in joy, dig deep.
Blades bend, arc in smooth caress.
Soon we will dance with bunnies.
Deflation During Commute
Suburban Warfare.
Dread of painted, cleansed brown box.
Sing bright angst and run.
Streets wave thick daring white flags.
No hope for peace or loving.
Crusty Good
I come in sadly,
greeting crusty red faces.
One hand shakes firmly.
Crusty good. Am I crusty?
Wondering if God is here.
Gold Trails Away from Wasteland
Slowly marching up,
so far into soft gold trails.
We, relieved, home safe.
You cannot trail with anchors.
Stay in your Wasteland, sour souls.
The Mars Volta This Moment Here
Double dagger now,
off-beat causing tingling nerves.
Burning spirit flows.
In hot fires, life is polished.
Bright riffs spark revolutions.
Hall Monitor in Sunshine
Staring without tears,
intent, sinking under love.
Sunshine blinks mercy.
Your walk round, impeccable,
immeasurable sweetness.
