Colleen’s 2019 #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge Recap No. 117, First of the Month – Poet’s Choice of Words
Sorry for the late publishing. I had problems scheduling this post. ❤
Welcome to the Tanka Tuesday Poetry Recap featuring the work of poets from around the globe. If you would like to participate in this challenge, you can learn the rules in the menu item called Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday Guidelines.
PLEASE NOTE: Don’t forget to count your syllables. Use this site: howmanysyllables.com. Click on the workshop tab. Then, copy and paste your poem into the box, and click “count syllables” at the bottom.
This was the first week of using the new submission form. I’ve made some changes on the challenge post going forward so please read the instructions carefully. ❤
This challenge is not for free-verse poetry. ❤
Each week, I like to highlight a poet who I call the Poet of the Week, who has shared an exceptional message, or shown an impassioned creativity through words or form. Poetry is all about perception, so don’t be shocked if you don’t feel the same way about a poem that I do.
The Poet of the Week will be published in the 2019 Poet of the Week Anthology, which everyone will be able to grab as a PDF in January 2020.
This week, I’ve chosen Trent McDonald as the Poet of the Week, for his Haibun/Tanka, “Dawn of a New Year.” His poem is the first featured below.
I love the way Trent’s words lead in with winter, stressing how summer’s glow is long gone. When he sneaks in the part about where he is missing “her” as well, this Haibun/Tanka takes on a romantic vibe. Winter represents the death of seasons and relationships. Yet, he brings us back to the new year with the hope that once again the seasons will change and bring his love back once more.
"Dawn of a New Year," A Haibun using a Tanka
**Featured Poem of the Week**
I am walking alone down a dark path. The pale December sun
fails to illuminate, casting a cold, golden sheen over the land.
I pause and look out over the world.
Stark shadows, crisp lines prove that summer is a distant memory.
As are you. They say the new year brings new light and new
hope. I smile, knowing that although colder days are ahead,
the light will increase and warmth will return.
Shadows in pale light
Darkness of the dying year
You, my sun, are gone
A new year brings much more light
Perhaps it brings you as well
HERE’S WHO JOINED US LAST WEEK FOR OUR 117th POETRY CHALLENGE: 1st of the Month – Poet’s Choice of Words
(Don’t see your poem here? Please submit your poetry for this challenge using the submission form on the challenge post. I no longer grab your poetry from the linkback) ❤
drifting slowly closer.
Seconds crackle, shiver, collapse.
Carol J Forrester
New Year Etheree
There is fog in my face, mist in my mouth,
a chill chases shivers down my spine.
Cat’s paw, cold as the North Sea, sharp
as claws raking hardened earth
exposes worms and grubs
for famished birds. Light
dims early here
Creativity, A Shadorma
of new ideas
vision, and innate talent -
thus born to create.
Hypothetical Enigmas, A Haibun Tanka
A single leaf flutters across the neighbor’s yard. I see it
through the reflection in the mirror facing me–the one
that reveals the view through the bay window
of my office. The breeze that set that leaf fluttering ceases.
All is calm, but not bright as the dimming light yields to
the growing afternoon shadows that stretch out across
They are not so unlike the shadows of the past. And like
two-headed Janus, the Roman God guarding the portal
of time and space, I can gaze back at those shadows
and catch the contours of what might-have-been.
In one other life, I trusted my distrust of the suburban
administrator that betrayed me. I stayed at Kennedy,
instead of leaving NYC schools for the enticing
lure of a suburban, Rockland County school district.
But what then? Did I learn the humility so necessary
to stay effective in education? What of Kennedy’s
In another life, I chose not to attend the centering prayer
workshop that I madethe Saturday after September 11, 2001.
I never learned how to sit still and know that God is God
by consenting to his presence and action. But what then? How
did I sustain myself through the trials and tribulations of
unemployment, a return to NYC teaching, the vicissitudes
of raising a family under those circumstances?
I could ask Janus to show me the rest. But the deity remains
stubbornly silent. There is no knowing with certainty what
lies behind the door left unopened. All I can know for sure
is that every decision that I made has brought me to the
moment in which I stand. The next decision will bear me
to the next one.
That is enough. It has to be.
the lesson of kenosis
in the brook’s roar
a glimpse of a smile unseen
as I let myself go
“New Year” Haiku
New year means new paths
Go in any direction
Create your story
Haibun/Haiku - Arbitrary...or Not?
An arbitrary mark in the earth's rotation around the
sun - 100% man-made. Another example of us trying to
control and wrangle the most uncontrollable
and the most unwrangleable of them all - TIME.
Yesterday - today - tomorrow
Merely made up words, concepts; meaningless if you
sit too long alone with them.
But what isn't just a concept, nor arbitrary...are your seeds,
your gardening, your crop, your remarkable handsels
to humanity at this very moment. What you
toss about, in your activity, your words, your efforts will
bloom in time. Maybe not in the man-made morrow but
perchance, sooner than you anticipate.
Regardless of what the calendar or the clock says.
A new year; first day
Arbitrary mark in time
Still, reap what you sow
"Butterfly", a Shadorma
With colorful wings
Swept away with the current
Returning in spring
Gin, a Shadorma
No longer the drink
of old men
makes me eloquent and fun
'till I pee the bed
Huginn and Muninn (Haiku)
Two ravens fly out
Watching all under the sky
And returning home.
John W. Leys
No Stone Unturned
I flip unturned stone;
Soil cleaves to jagged bottom.
Did I disturb it,
Wake the stone from peaceful sleep?
Or rouse it for a new day?
H. R. R. Gorman
Waiting - A double Etheree
Fate walk in
Fortune in hand
Your karma paid in full now
Destiny sent this chance to you
It’s serendipity in full swing
Doom lay buried beneath last years cold ground
Fortunes change so step lightly this New Year
The year of the pig will bring good luck
Shiny coins in pockets jingle
No fluke that chance smiles on you
Wear new shoes the first day
Let your steps be light
Open the door
Slipstream of Dreams: A Shadorma
Floating so freely
To shape new reality
From heavenly cream
Create and Intoxicating - A Shadorma
and time to create
to be read
by those open to our thoughts
"Drawing Blanks", An Etheree
my unfurnished words
soaring to embrace her
emptiness grips this paper
forlorn delights of torn graphite
splinters collide into tender lines
despondent mischief in a new year’s eyes
Ethan Dale Eagar
"Grace," A Tanka
Pray, from East to West,
Our Father Sun, Fairest Moon
To the North and South
Magnificence grace my life
© 2019 Hélène Vaillant
Morning , A tanka
Through the shade I see,
Patterns of light in colors,
The monochrome dreams
Slip through the words I let free,
The morning freshness captured
Edinburgh's Bright Lights - A Triple Shadorma
It calls me
This Scottish City
Edinburgh’s dark shadows
Perfect time and place
Adorned like parcels
Pink in blue
My home from home forever
The best gift of all
I see you
Bright castle hiding
Such a blue sky highlights you
Nestled on a hill
Marje @ Kyrosmagica
Wine Bottle, an Etheree
Red or white
Light or full bodied
To tantalise taste buds
Glass container of liquid
Open with cap or pop the cork
You have the power to raise spirits
A joy to behold a bottle of wine
Winter Mist, a Haiku
sepia morn dawns
hoof prints on snow capped ground
winter mist shadows
©2019 Linda Lee Lyberg
Ben, Munro buddy and budding dog-poet, A Haiku
Pledges old and new
Forging ahead, onward call
Mountains still to climb
By Ben, the dog poet
My Wish For You, A Tanka
This new year may you
realize your fondest dreams
recalling each and
every blessing with joy
and gratitude in your hearts
crow calls, beckoning,
rosy-robed sun arises,
new day awakens
with murdered conversation,
echoes in black-winged flutter
Merril D. Smith