A Few New: Tanka 119; Haiku 684, 739; Shadorma 192, 193, 200, 243

As you know, I’m no longer doing Poetry Marathon Sessions. Instead, I’m writing as I go along. Every so often I plan to post new work that I’m doing doing right now.

Right now, here is what I am doing. I had an inventory of fragments, stories, and other unfinished things that I’ve assembled and I’m now mining them for ideas, revising them, or breaking them into pieces and seeing what develops from the leftovers.

This post is one of those showcasing new work, then – except – today, I’ve shown you work that for various reasons is older, 2018 or 2019, and was finished, but didn’t get published in one of my previous books. I want to clear out the past before going into the future.

It is interesting to me to read these poems in light of the world we live in today. I think they are proof that writing captures a specific time but can also be projected into future days and be of use or clarity then. No writing is every wasted – it can always speak, even if in ways not anticipated when written.

Tanka 119

Handcuffed together
we weren’t, but just as good as,
until yesterday
when I grabbed hold of the purse
and shook out my escape plans

4/4/19

Haiku 684

in the darkest hours
the moon comes inside the house
called on for a dream

4/11/19

Shadorma 192

You catch It
or does It attack
the target
of its choice?
Your adversary won’t say.
It doesn’t need to.

4/11/19

Shadorma 193

Take nothing
for given Take all
for maybe
or never
and if fate or destiny
decide to favor

4/25/18

Shadorma 200

The garden
that intriguing place
tangled stems
twine your legs
tie your hands wrap your neck squeeze
deadheading you. Snap.

5/21/19

Haiku 739

the hard crust of snow
buried spring bulbs wish for warmth
the pale sun wavers

10/13/19

Shadorma 243

safe ashore
this desktop plateau
this island
in the sea
of patterned carpet floated by
bi-weekly paychecks

10/21/19

2 thoughts on “A Few New: Tanka 119; Haiku 684, 739; Shadorma 192, 193, 200, 243

  1. I especially love the moon poem and the one about the snug spring bulbs. Shadorma 200 reminds me of the game we used to play as kids, popping the heads off dandelions while chanting, “Mary Queen of Scots got her head chopped off”.

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