Nine Hundred Tanka
Nine Hundred Tanka
I.
Some poems are born here
in poverty and cold snow
nine hundred Tanka
nirvana being a goal
to find peace in misery.
These volatile clouds
hung in the light blue of East
the geese begin flight
up above chilly horse barn
a cow in pasture rubbing horns.
Old foliage rots
is washed away by the rain
only green fern grows
as water washes away
the remaining detritus.
Refractive forest
to walk frozen rutted roads
deliver message
of rain crackle on tin plates
a blue and green afternoon.
At edge of fire pit
the wild Parsley and Clover
green near White Birch flame
picture blue on porcelain
of small hot soft explosion.
II.
On a lonely stretch
this drought causes poor fishing
follow the pale sun
sand of a dried up river
faint call of some unknown bird.
Arc ash steel image
thawing, freezing, and thawing
extremely cold blue
only thing we can rely on
treetops swing as they tremble.
Blue smoke of breakfast
one falling shaft of sunlight
vault of a temple
birds fly over every hill
the world was chilly and dark.
Sparrows at the fork
to branch into the Pine Boughs
center of forest
animals long for the woods
they travel terribly far.
Sometimes coiled in clouds
winds whistle over the grass
in Wildrose and leaf
blossom glowing in the sun
single blue Honeysuckle.
III.
A malachite sky
the stiff gloom of the Walnut
some shade from Willow
on the edge a roadside tree
shiver of odors in heat.
Smokey valley haze
layers of first hot day
after storm and rain
pitch glistens on the Pine Cones
insects swarm rock and meadow.
Bird wings cut through blue
their eyesight becomes a net
this whole double scene
Squirrel rustles in Bamboo
Lizard navigating sun.
Hill behind the creek
a barely rising black smoke
burning out the field
pleasant enough light at night
when one comes home exhausted.
No real memory
of every detail of day
nine hundred tanka
a higher purpose in mind
trying to find inner peace.
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Nicely worked on the Tanka form, Jamie. I enjoyed reading this piece.
Thank you Phyllis. Jamie