| An'ya
- Oregon, US |
O windswept forest,
in October's crackling voice
I sense changefulness;
will our love ever crumble,
like these leaves off the maple?
an'ya
|
| |
moonshiny beach -
before each wave pulls back,
the pounding surf;
two hearts now beat as one
a rhythm between like souls
an'ya
|
| |
what bitter weather!
this snowfall may never melt,
and yet no moment
that we spent with each other,
ever went by so slowly
an'ya
|
| Marjorie
Buettner - Minnesota, US |
|
the smallest beads
of an insect's eggs
living on the underside
how ever did our lives grow
so marginally narrow?
Marjorie Buettner
|
| |
|
the moon's light
sieved through a wire-mesh screen
of the window
I bath in its luminance
finding another way home
Marjorie Buettner
|
| |
|
tonight the spring air
lush with lilacs and soft rain
gives itself away
and if you were here with me
oh the loving, the loving...
Marjorie
Buettner
|
| Darrell
Byrd - California, US |
in a place
where the poppies grow
when alone
I see the footprints we made
the wind skipping along
Darrell Byrd
|
| |
along the tracks
where the lights of Santa Fe
shine into the dusk
a desert wind
moans in the tamarisk
Darrell
Byrd
|
| chibi
- Georgia, US |
|
iris oh iris
on the side of the road
in another's yard
passing fast as a blur
your blue your blue bleeds
chibi
|
| Donna
Ferrell, Ohio, US |
Snow melt --
Scouring out the ice
In this passageway,
So narrow...so narrow,
Love trickles through unseen cracks.
Donna
Ferrell
|
| |
Why does
It pierce the heart so --
This spring wind?
One blossom scattered,
Another's petals drooping.
Donna
Ferrell
|
| |
A young robin
Calls for his mate --
Such greenness;
Wild onions sprouting
In the withered meadow.
Donna
Ferrell
|
| Elizabeth
Howard, Tennesee, US |
|
a blue heron, poised
on a red boulder,
the creek surging past --
after the breast cancer
where is my serenity?
Elizabeth
Howard
|
| |
|
mammography suite --
my eyes drawn to waxen pods
in the bouquet
when the radiologist
takes out her pointer
Elizabeth
Howard
|
| Kirsty
Karkow, Maine, US |
|
hard to believe
a decade has passed...
I still seek
comfort in pajamas
fragrant with your scent
Kirsty
Karkow
|
| |
|
a moonflower's
tendrils grow toward light
twisting turning
my convoluted thoughts
slowly wind toward morning
Kirsty
Karkow
|
| Keith
McMahen, Florida, US |
they didn't know
when I was asked
about you...
the flowers you planted
now in bloom
Keith
McMahen
|
| |
moving -
I sort through memories
what gets left
what gets packed
today I woke to rain
Keith
McMahen
|
| Kara
L. C. Jones - Washington, US |
sparkling sun shines
blinding off the waterfront
and summer arrives
yet my empty arms both ache
to hold my son, three years gone
Kara
L.C. Jones
|
| |
|
noisy morning birds
calling to and fro, ceaseless,
loud, sunrise greetings
telling me I must live now,
my son has died, I have not
Kara L.C. Jones
|
| Daniel
Py - Paris, FR |
dans le miroir
de ses boucles d'oreilles
la vache rit
à l'infini
Daniel Py
|
in the mirror
of her ear-rings,
the cow laughs
for ever
Daniel Py
|
| "
Laughing cow " is a well known French cheese-make called : "la
vache qui rit" transl. : " the laughing cow " - on the
cheese-box, there's a drawing of that cow, whose ear-rings show the portrait of
herself, laughing, whose ear-rings... thus at eternam.
|
| |
trees appear
scratching the mist
- the birds
it seems
did sleep soundly
Daniel Py
|
| Maria
Steyn - Johannesburg, RSA |
|
the lightness
of birdfeet in a flowerbed
each day, if only
my fingerprints on your life
might be as gentle and free
Maria
Steyn
|
| |
|
as Jacarandas
slowly drop their blooms
I watch a stranger
shedding the tears I hold back
at grandmother's funeral
Maria
Steyn
|
| Cindy
Tebo - Missouri, US |
in the dark hours
when streets weave like a drunk
without purpose
I sing about nothing
because I know all the words
Cindy Tebo
Missouri, US
|
|
Editor's
Choice: Tanka series from a series of paintings by Henri
Matisse |
"I don't paint things. I only paint the difference between things."
~ Henri Matisse
a certain bareness
in autumn fields
but in the dry rustling
of what remains
there is music
splotches of people
passing on a bridge
this morning's blur
I never knew smoke
could be so blue
with starched white collar
and choker necklace
the piano teacher
plays each note precisely
like a surgeon
in the polish
of your eyes
another night
what fire there is
burns inside you
a sensuous garden
with all the lushness
of life's green
I would love to compose
just once such a thing
stems cut short
to make you fit
in a pitcher
all the wildness of flowers
stolen from the fields
Cindy Tebo
|
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