undertow tanka review issue 4

UNDERTOW TANKA REVIEW: ISSUE # 4

Contents Page: January 30th page

1. Featured Tanka …………………… 3

2. Featured Tanka Art …………………… 5

3. Tanka Sequences …………………... 8

4. Tanka/Haiku Art …………………... 13

5. Tanka …………………... 15

6. Haiku Sequence …………………... 36

7. Editor’s Tanka …………………... 37

Featured Tanka:

darkest hourdreams of tender ghostsfloat the cobalt skydrunk on notes strung from a muted trumpet

Carole Johnston, USA

Carole Johnston grew up near the New Jersey Shore where she learned to roll with the crushing tide. She began writing as a child but has been publishing for just a few years. Now retired from teaching creative writing in a high school arts program, she spends her time wandering with notebook and camera, capturing moments in haiku and tanka. Carole has published more than two hundred poems and stories in print and online journals including: Frogpond, Blithe Spirit, Ribbons, Atlas Poetica, Skylark, red lights, Cattails, The Bamboo Hut, Moonbathing, Akitsu Quarterly, Undertow Hedgerow, Writers and Lovers Cafe, A Zen Space, Inner Art Journal. Her work has also appeared in poetry anthologies such as Poetry As Prayer, Red Silk, and River Poets Anthology. Arrows and Bones, Carole’s unpublished novel is currently seeking an agent. Her first poetry chapbook, Journeys: Getting Lost, is now available from Finishing Line Press.

S. A. O.

The opening line of this poem is a mystery. It makes me feel like it is my “darkest hour.” Yet the juxtaposition here, “drunk on notes strung / from a muted trumpet” give the poem a

gentle and serene feeling. It is as if we were listening to a slow jazzy tune in our sleep.

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Featured Tanka Art

Artwork by Debbie Strange, Canada. Debbie is a member of The Writers' Collective of Manitoba and The Manitoba Writers' Guild, as well as several haiku and tanka organizations. Her writing has received awards, and has been translated and published internationally. She was the featured poet in the United Haiku and Tanka Society's September, 2014 issue of cattails, which includes a list of publication credits. Debbie is an avid photographer, whose images have been published and showcased in The Poetry of Light exhibition. Her current passion is for creating haiga and tanka art. She invites you to visit her on twitter @Debbie_Strange to view more of her work.

S. A. O.

“Mercurial” is a word loaded with meanings: changeable, erratic, impulsive, etc., I love it. The second line caught me by surprise, “in this turning season”, I had to look closely at the photograph and notice the leafless tree, the winter season of our lives. I the following lines the poet skillfully brings into focus, “my body” / ä weather vane tilting” / “in a new direction,” which connects with the opening line. It is a marvelous juxtaposition and metaphor.

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Tanka Sequence

To Her:

He cannot see yousilently pressing the wall,will the dam break free?clipped wings cannot take flightwithout turning to the wind.

Response:

I weep like water,even through stone palace walls,slitted silt absorbsits passing river portion,sealing out intrusive winds.

Glenn Lyvers, USA

Averted Eyes(Margaret Saine, USA) body first possessedby kisses, territorythat your arms embracedand your honeyed tongue through mefeeding my hungry senses

my days belonged toyou without words, but your thoughts?reveal your wishesI long to understand youin this silent endless night

as I walk in dreamsI grieve among the visionsof our bygone joysyour silence is my despairI can't conjure up a smile

expelled from your heartwith nothing left to go onno gaze and no touchmy desolate body slipsinto bitter forgetting

we wanted to bewater, wanted to be seawe were but flukes and relicsraped by the flood becomingwailing creatures of the dark

Ending Journeys(Margaret Saine, USA)

I wish for journeysto end where the lovers meet:in each other’s armsuncommon ground between theminspiring joy of suspense

sunk into our dreamswe’re worlds apart yet so closeour ships touch in sleepwind’s wings enfold my bodysoft music cradles my heart I dream caressesfrom waters, they press, embracemy flooded bodyas a lover's limbs impress

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their sweet weight on moody love

but I have lost youa road map to dark placesis all I have leftthe wind on the waters blewyou deep into the abyss

Torture Song(River Blue, USA)

I saw my face in a cell at Guantanamoelectrocuting his genitals, my government waterboarding

I saw my face in Ferguson right after being shot…a commanding surge blastedthrough the streets

I saw my facein a man selling cigaretteson a NYC street cornerscreaming I can’t breathe,and “I” can’t breathe…

A Time before Time(Steve Klepetar, USA)

Imagine a timebefore time, so dense, so hot –compressed in no spaceafloat in a great Nothingwaiting for the Cosmic Touch First hydrogen, thenhelium and some otherelements, then blankfor a million years or soas the universe expands and cools as atomsform. Denser regions collapseand rotate slightly,forming disk like galaxiesrotating like wild skaters drawing in their arms.Imagine this wonderfuldance, witnessed from aspace that is no space, deep incells where mind and spirit meet.

Accident(Kristina England, USA)

The road is glassmeant for breaking cars that cannot stop.I am a ballerinaspinning in place.

I scream in painas left rib crunchesand separates.Oil stains look likea kaleidoscope.

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Kristina England, USA

Grandmother(Kristina England, USA)

Yesterdayyou fell,split your lip.Even crowsbleed.

Tomorrow,escape cancerfor slumber.Every bird mustshed.

#Madrid (Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India)

i see deathin your eyesan afternoonof long shadowsin Madrid

we never shiedfrom having bull-fightsin loveyour pink fragrancethe lure of madness

Madrid sunfiltering in betweenour words

your smile the colourof chestnut candies

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Tanka Art

Tanka

Some chickadeesland on leafless boughs.—A sensation of plenitudeafter a full sensationof nakedness. Ali Znaidi, Tunisia The sun’s rayspenetrate throughthe door’s holes.—Glittering piecesof a shattered glass. Ali Znaidi, Tunisia

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Hot tearsinundatingthe lonesome lotus flower.I still believe indreams. Ali Znaidi, Tunisia A line of red antsin dark phosphatic sand.—A flash of lightingpiercing the moonlesssky. Ali Znaidi, Tunisia Bare branchesof the almond tree.—A brainwashedzombiewithout a memory. Ali Znaidi, Tunisia Soft foamtouching my feet.I rememberthe cotton socksI wore in my childhood.

Ali Znaidi, Tunisia

the swing set squeakeda rusty songtime tickingwhile we played

childhood ended

Briony James, USA

Nor'easter snowfall 1962white mountainpiled next to the drivelooming largeto eight year old eyes

Briony James, USA

wheels within wheelscircles leadbackand forwardI wind towards you

Briony James, USA

pale pink ridgesnacre pathwaysspiralthe shell in my handa universe

Briony James, USA

my storybook forestlittered leavesan autumn carpetmushrooms dancea fairy ring

Briony James, USA

worms and Beetlesfeast

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wool rug ruinedthe weft exposedlike bones

Briony James, USA

the idea runsround and round in my braina hamsterwheeling itself dizzyno goal but forward

Briony James, USA

my shadow dancesaloneit laughswhen I tryto pirouette

Briony James, USA

hunter moon my silver dollar casts shadowsof antler branchesmakes me a goddessmy solitary hour

Briony James, USA

golden afternoon sunlong shadowsattenuate meI reachfor invisible stars

Briony James, USA

standing behind my chairshe plays with my hairon my questioningshe smiles and repliesyour hair caught my eyes

Radhey Shiam, India

his apologieslike August cornhusks—the patchof black-eyed susansstare accusinglyfrom the safe house door

Al Ortolani, USA

fifty years agowe waded the spring run-offattacking crawfish with toy swords—hawks turn in the lazy sunlike straight razors

Al Ortolani, USA

tonight I writemy death poem, shouldI punctuate it witha period, or leavethe pregnant pause

Al Ortolani, USA

bite of wood smoke

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from a neighbor's chimney—evening’s cold star,his wife clankingher spoon in the casserole

Al Ortolani, USA

first night of autumn:dripping at the open window,the slow rain fallswithout thunder—begoniabaskets still blooming

Al Ortolani, USA

uninspired, I gnawon the end crustfrom a dry loaf of bread—crumbs littering the blank pagelike a two day beard

Al Ortolani, USA

this morning earthwormsflushed by the all night rainstretch like pencils acrossthe sidewalk—classroom lightsbright in the early gloom

Al Ortolani, USA

each morning walkingthe same sidewalk, tuftsof dandelion as familiar

as the spots on my hands—leaves spin from the sky

Al Ortolani, USA

waking at 3 a.m.no signof morning in the easthow lonely the garden lightsthat run on yesterday’s sun

Al Ortolani, USA

black and whitephotograph of my fatherthe watch on his wristkeeping timein a box on my desk

Al Ortolani, USA

your silken blouse in moonlightsummer-lit branchesin the avocado orchardblushed skin-- flushed by youth’s turpitude

Ed Higgins, USA

the purple finchdrops notes, a communion waferon your tongue, red wineto your lips, salvic springinto your flesh

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Ed Higgins, USA

no memoriesof the worlds left behind—I buy a French Santafrom an American storeand wonder again who we are

Rebecca Drouihet, USA

pieces of the picturedrifting further apart...a sea changesweeps me far awayfrom familiar shores


on our honeymoonto the Natchez of my birthwe find a housewhere I hear ghosts whisper...one of them me


turning prayer wheelson the last dayof the year

a child's songechoes from the mountains

Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India

within the foldsof a paper rosei keep tracingthe bends and alleysof our talk


can deathadd one starto the night -mom's wooden owlstares blankly


i may holdone full moonbetween my fingersbut not the dreamsthat slip beyond my view


a mild rainas night endsyour wordsplopping into the mutenessof leaves


you may burna hundred memoriesi remain embalmedin your self-seeking lovea helpless duck in an oil slick

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the morewe drift aparti feel the sea windgatheringthe rustiness of memories


'sorryfor coming late'echoesa mockingbirdexploring the broken nest


your nearnessas with a spring blazemakes me dizzy--even with a heat-suiti fear the lava


seawithout a wavefloats the moon--towed to my dreamI've been sailing for ages


there she was, sleeping

under a mountain of sheetsin a stranger's home--careless in a stranger's beda brief love affair

Lana Bella, USA

I roll out of bedand brush the dregs of sleepreality shifts--then borrow the altered selfin dress of saffron silk

Lana Bella, USA

out by the old docka ghostly figure in grayhis face to the sea--his back against the lakeshoredown the copper moon

Lana Bella, USA

nooks and cranniescubby holes in the atticwhere we playedin dusty old trunksstrange winter secrets


psychedelic deepmemories of childhooddream shroudedstartled by huge dark wingspen dipped in black ink

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a partyin my neighborhoodblues beatpaper lanterns and drumsair thick with mist


comet singsstrange ethereal songa universecreated by crescendochorus of angels


conjuring sunsetI causethe fruit to burstpomegranate juicedrips down the white snow sky


deep inside a purple irisindigo eyeswait for my child mindtime traveling


high summerI purple my fingers

indigo my facemorning glories vineto the sky with Jack


cobalt blue glass bottles illuminethe windowglow with my mother’s ghostalchemy of her tears


stuck in gloomrain dark empty daycandle lightand memories of road tripsblue sky rockets save me


those girlswho lived in different worldsin the same neighborhood where one of themset herself on fire


starless night...how starkly this snuffed-out candle

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reminds methat you are gone

Shloka Shankar, India

a wedge of winter sun in the yard...revisiting the darkest corners of my mind


Christmas lights...my unpeeled layers of melancholy break free in your presence


winter drizzleleaves its stains on the window-pane...the echo of the last poemin my head


I didn’t knowI didn’t knowanything. A cinnamonfern knew I was ignorant,kept quiet.

Kenneth Pobo, USA

Evenafter a heavy rainice patches.The sun slips and falls,no one to help her up.

Kenneth Pobo, USA

I’ve stopped attendingthe church in a monarch’s wing.I’ll miss the singingand total immersionin a buddleia bloom.

Kenneth Pobo, USA

At 88my dad plays ping pong,whacks the ball well. Afterwards,weather talk,a can of Sprite.

Kenneth Pobo, USA

Nancy Sinatrathe squirrel knocks downour suet feeder. Angry? Yes,but I love the song she singswhile making mischief.

Kenneth Pobo, USA

Right now helleboresfatten budsunder brown leaves and snow.Right now springpaces in the wings, ready to perform.

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Kenneth Pobo, USA

My spouse’shairy chest—the shed,many vines covering it,sudden blossomsbetween thick tendrils.

Kenneth Pobo, USA

An emptinessIn the American heart.When your owner says “Come”and puts the dish of oil down,lap it up, every drop.

Kenneth Pobo, USA

A terrier barkingat a star. And why not?I’d do anything to get love,distance means nothing--In fact, I bark louder.Kenneth Pobo, USA

On our wedding daywe smelled a skunk.Was this a warning?A blessing?Neither. The skunk was busy.

Kenneth Pobo, USA

on the ridgea thoughtless new estate…cuddly koalasrunning betweenthe bulldozers

Barbara A. Taylor, Australia

retracing my stepsthrough the tangled garden…panic stationsthe shock of findingmy specs have gone


inside for a weeksweeping, cleaning…visitors arriveour day shared outside tilltheir departure at sunset


shamefullyaccepting the factif I must stoopfor that new kitchen gadgetit will never be used


just when

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will this mania end?my TV programscast aside for repetitionsof muscly men scoring goals


lingering coldam surprised to spya jonquil bud…I throw his last chopped logonto glowing coals


between the wavessixty-seven years agoin mother’s womb…still, I’m floating onwardswith hope against the tide

Barbara A. Taylor, Australiahttp://batsword.webs.com/

last daysendless summerwater lies low in the deep endit doesn't matter

S. Black, UK

night shiftworking at a jobthat doesn't needworking at

S. Black, UK

the photographbehindthe photographhe wisheshe could take it back

S. Black, UK

young and dumbthe brains we were born withhad't filled our headsand the promises madehadn't betrayed us yet

S. Black, UK

middle aged manin yellow lycraracingagainstthe clock

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S. Black, UK

the bells soundsa ship weighed heavywith everythingwe failed to forget

S. Black, UK

condomsfallen starscaught by winter treesguiding the path onlythe anonymous take

S. Black, UK

summer highcommittal procedurelooking afterCleopatra’s cats

S. Black, UK

Haiku

Chinglish - Haiku Sequence(Debra McQueen, USA)

Mind The Hilly Roadthe sign suggests to climbersThe Great Wall summons

Sign: Sleep Slop Slow DownToddlers shriek by joyouslySkidding to a halt

Sweet Lift Come From HereConvenience store promisesTipsy on Tsingtao

Sign: O not waste food!aside greasy buffet lineO, Jiozi, tempting

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Does it need saying?Sign: No spitting anywhereYes it really does

Do not shout slapstick!a sign outside the hot potnever deciphered

A sign: caution, slipuneven steps that lead oneto Buddhist temple

Sign: caution, stumblingon the Longxing garden pathonly if unsure

Sign: caution, drop downby the temple’s exit stairdropping into grace?

Editor’s Tanka

I'm going backto a time when I was a woman…my kimono brushing

the arid ground

Sergio Ortiz, Puerto Rico

for Fritz Kersting 1950-2014

unmooredlaunched cloud-wardhe dreams with heavenly musiccarnations tinged with love


winterI have walked through your stormsdreaming within the folds of frizzled viola petals


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undertow tanka review issue 4

Documents

tanka societys

editors tanka

tanka organizations

tanka sequences

featured tanka art artwork

featured poet

debbie strange

featured tanka32