Posts Tagged Tanka
Travels Through Death Soon to Come II
My death is arriv-
ing with brown and purple hugs,
temporary nails,
Gregorian chant sneaks up,
John Cage cheers my soul
Trippy Wires
Posted by Carl in Finding Purpose, Poems on October 5, 2021
Nine rooms, flexing shapes
empty spaces with cocktail
tables, one or two,
footrests, blue trash, Porsche, empty
town stop, one-ninety away
Travels Through Death Soon to Come
windows cloak brown tracks
crossing past your vacant face
hiding drying tears
pulsating legs muddle fears
while rivers reverse their flows
Most Days, They’re Embarrassed, and Most Days, They’re Mean
Fatigue clings, gripping
feverish self hatred when
they scold and point, turn-
ing red, hating the fragile
man who needs their acceptance.
.
One Day There Was Betterment in a Tiny Auditorium
Children holding his
tablets, moving miniscule
planets. Forget my
past, he screams, slowly curing
needy pieces of dog fur.
New, No, Not Again
Flat channels divide
dangerous pathways my brain
seems to love, darkly,
so I plunge deeply to find
large oak branches, parallel,
for hanging is good
for dead, stolen spirits fly-
ing, bumping rocks of
hatred, and here I blast through
nothingness, leaving traces.
No More Blocking
Not working on block-
ing. Hiding is a load of
work. Nerves inside holes
that are pricked, excruciat-
ing pain, anger at good things.
.
Tanka for Buddy
Waning, my dog said
goodbye, and I understand
why I must hope for
heaven for dogs, for without,
I want to hang, dead as mud.
.
Shielded After Lunch in July Sun
Blurred down comes, July
sun, but today, my Devine
brought in gentle warmth,
deflected unneeded heat,
and a soft bathing bird smiled.
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.
.
stillfugue 