Jackknife

Haigaonline

Autumn 2017

Advertisements

Falling in Love……With Tanka

****

in the courtyard
at the nursing home
day lilies open
my mother wonders, again
what season it is

****

****

june evening
a white-throated sparrow sings
my father’s whistle
calling me home for dinner
I’m eight again

****

****

in the garden
the gentle sound 
of cooing doves
my body leans into
the dawn music

****

****

somewhere
between sunrise
and the heart
 words rise up – teetering
on the edge of a poem

****

****

long married
our conversation 
 happens
in the heart space
where no words are needed

****

****

dove song
on the breeze
my desire
a morning scented rose
for you

****

I have fallen in love with tanka and the sudden expansiveness of five lines after writing tight little haiku for so long.  I like being able to put a bit of emotion into the poem too.  These are a few I’ve written in the past month or so. What do you think?

Here is a link about getting started with tanka: Tanka On Line

I’m learning about tanka on a facebook page called ‘Tanka Poets On Site,’ where one can find wonderful poems and prompts written by many outstanding poets.

Ghosts of the Ancients

****
ghosts of the ancients
cast their towering shadows
on the holy ground                        

                                                        (Patricia)

seeds from my father’s garden
still bloom under a day moon

                                                                        (WS)

****

For Carpe Diem Tan Renga – ghosts of the ancients

 

I Should Have

****

It was  your hazel eyes that anchored me to that  day,
eyes grown so large in your ruined body,
pleading , begging me to leave the mask off your face,
you were dying and you knew it, 
even as we denied it,
burying that terrible truth in small talk
of train schedules and plans for tomorrow’s trip back to sit at your side,
when tomorrow was right there in your eyes.
 You begged for this bit of control,
knowing that the  oxygen was useless where you were going
wanting those last few hours mask-free,
Please leave it off,  you whispered,
your eyes widening into  gigantic pools of grief,
breaking my  broken heart.
*
The doctors never told us you were dying,
 maybe I should have known,
all the usual signs were there,
and especially telling, 
the nurses wouldn’t look me in the eye.
*
Putting the mask back on your sad face
was the right thing for them to do,
but your daughter who can still see your hazel eyes
whenever I look in the mirror
could have (should have) let you do it your way.
****
 
    Yesterday morning I read  this  poem  here: ‘Life’s A Bitch’  written by Viv Blake  and posted on her blog.   It greatly  moved me and   prompted me to write about my own  father’s last hours, something I’ve never been able to do. 
 
    If I knew then what I know now, I would have  let him call the shots.