a plastic bag
whirled by the wind
struggling in mid-air --
a tanka is conceived
at that sight
writing tanka --
four lines sound perfect
yet I struggle
to write a fifth
to perfect my tanka
my anguish
crumbled into a ball
I continue to write
as the wastebasket waits
for one more throw
days slip by
minute by minute
hour after hour --
a tanka is born
yet my life withers
March / April, 2010 issue of Sketchbook
Cool Announcement: Celebrate Tanka Poetry Month with NeverEnding Story
-
My Dear Friends and Readers:
*May is the month of wishes and expectations, a time born for tanka. Every
verse should hold the essence of the season: singi...
