undertow tanka review issue # 3

UNDERTOW TANKA REVIEW: ISSUE # 3

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Contents Page: December 6th page

1. Featured Tanka …………………………. 3

2. Featured Tanka Art …………………………. 63. Tanka Sequences …………………………. 74. Tanka Art …………………………. 135. Tanka …………………………. 246. Editor’s Tanka …………………………. 70

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Featured Tanka:

tonight–

can you come with

the rains

i want a concert

of poems

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria (b. October 27, 1991) is a Nigerian poet. His works have appeared in publications including: The New Black Magazine, Saturday Sun, African Writer, Gobbet Magazine, Elohi Gadugi Journal, The Kalahari Review, Ann Arbor Review, Sentinel Annual Literature Anthology (SALA 2012), Poetic Diversity, and elsewhere. David is currently exploring Japanese poetry forms, as well as polishing his debut poetry book. He is also a street photography enthusiast.

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From Issue # 2

water leaking

through cupped hands

I tried to

hold you

to your promise

Dave Read is a Canadian poet whose poems have appeared in many journals. His tanka and micropoetry can be found on his Twitter account, @AsSlimAsImBeing.

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Featured Tanka Art

Mary Davila started writing haiku and creating haiga in 2006. Her haiga have been published online at simplyhaiku, haigaonline, sketchbook, modernhaiga, Lynx, DailyHaiga, Notes From the Gean, World Haiku Association and A Hundred Gourds. They have also have been published in print in the Moonset Literary Newspaper and the print edition of Modern Haiga 2008 and 2009. Her haiku have been published online at The Heron's Nest, Notes from the Gean and A Hundred Gourds. They have also been published in print in The Herons Nest and the Moonset Literary Newspaper. She has both haiga and haiku included in the book "The Temple Bell Stops, Contemporary Poems of Grief, Loss and Change" edited by Robert Epstein and also in the book "AHA The Anthology: Collected Works of AHA Forum Members" by Jane Reichhold. Also, one of her haiku is included in the book "Haiku and Senyru, a Simple Guide For All" by Charlotte Digregorio. Mary started writing tanka in 2014 and it has become her main focus. She has had her tanka published in print in Ribbons and Bright Stars 4: An Organic Tanka Anthology (Volume 4) by M.Kei. They have been published online in A Hundred Gourds and Undertow Tanka Review. She also has tanka art published online in Undertow Tanka Review. Her website is www.petalsinthelight.com.

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Tanka Sequences

marred a long silencebetween usworn around my waist—this morninga prayer for you on my lips

tears fallon the white sheetsI am lostcan prayers healbroken dreams?

crispness of white sheetsmarredby tears tainted with doubtwhy does one cryin the womb of darkness? I am a womanlove comes easilyin the dark

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when the light comesall the lovers have left all the lovers have departedlight comesshining on a womanseated by a windowMiss Havisham-like she restsher head in her handsand weepsthe path to her houseuntrodden, full of weeds ..................Matsukaze Lake Charles, Louisiana, USAJoy McCall Norwich, England

No name for this

how

the steady course of the moon

through the night

belies the sky’s illusion

of fixed orbs

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and to think

she let the course of her life

follow

the unrelenting vagaries

of his capricious dreams

lightning tears the sky

in lesions of fire and black

so much easier

to describe nature’s violence

than the bruising inside her

no drugs

can stem the internal bleeding

of her wound of guilt

she dies believing

she was born to sacrifice

Sonam Chhoki, Bhutan

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Childhood Photos

childhood photos

things were different then

a holy innocence

and I forgave the sky

for raining

watching raindrops

running down the window

small finger

following one big drop

down to the sill

this thing

of counting raindrops

like tides

there yet not there

is it me still the manchild

the small girl

always inside me

always afraid

what's done is done

10

the past lives, comfortless

is this

what being old is all about

looking back

the here and there of childhood

the black and white of memories

Eamonn O'Neill/Joy McCallIrland / UK

Thankful

fallen leaves of many hues

crisp air tinged

with a hint of wood smoke

season of change

the fall of my life

the joy of connecting

the excitement of new places

visiting long distance

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with my little sister

in her hills of hardwoods

grateful I am

to have the capacity to wonder

and wander

even through long corridors

of massive airports shoes in hand

flights cancelled

squeezed into tiny seats

bumping across deserts

and over the Rockies

to somewhere

I have never been here before.

lucky to be alive

happy to greet family

to enjoy adventure

once again.

Judi Brannan Armbruster, USA

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Tanka Art

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Debbie Strange, Canada

Street Art Poem by Sergio Ortiz

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Debbie Strange, Canada

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Pat Geyer, USA

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Pat Geyer, USA

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Pat Geyer, USA

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Pat Geyer, USA

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Ken Slaughter, USA

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Ken Slaughter, USA Photo by Jan Slaughter, USA

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Ken Slaughter, USA

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Caroline Skanne, UK

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Tanka

reaching to grasp

a piece of sky

to have it blow

like air

through my fingers

Dave Read, Canada

the song he only

plays for her

a drumming on

the window when

she's alone at night

Dave Read, Canada

a stray dog

bolts down the alley -

that old desire

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to cut my ties

and run

Dave Read, Canada

smudged

across my fingers

the ink I thought

would become

my best poem

Dave Read, Canada

they move along

like schools of fish

silver trinkets

flashing

on their backpacks

Dave Read, Canada

replacing

an overturned stone

25

he hasn't

learned

to forgive himself

Dave Read, Canada

drifting into

mountain air

my light-headed

thoughts

bear little weight

Dave Read, Canada

although he plays

Foxy Lady on guitar

he's too young

to admit

he likes girls

Dave Read, Canada

deadheading

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the perennials

summer's beauty

flakes

in my fingers

Dave Read, Canada

my father who

has shrunk

half an inch with age

still grows in stature

in his grandsons' eyes

Dave Read, Canada

I slide

into my bear skin

and curl up

ice crystals cling

to my fur

27

Carole Johnston, USA

shaman dreams

find me hibernating

with memory

shape shifting shadows

keep me winter warm


he tells me

there is an old woman

by the sea

she sells oranges

she speaks the truth


buried

in black velvet

silence

our moonless eyes

mindless as tombs

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you and I again

at a diner in Jersey

monarch butterfly

outside the window

last flowers of autumn


monarch wings

restless on the wind

fluttering

a Reeses wrapper

lands on the road


darkest hour

dreams of tender ghosts

float the cobalt sky

drunk on notes strung

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from a muted trumpet


I want

to be a sandpiper

racing

back and forth in surf

always leaving


as if we are

old souls together again

just once a year

we meet in some graveyard

enveloped by falling leaves


I wander

up the pumpkin mountain

to Woodstock

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where magic is friendship

and shooting stars


mist streams

through the charred walls

of Drukgyel dzong

as if in memory

of incense and prayers


rippling

lozenges of light

on the nursery wall

a crystal mobile pools

the un-slept cot


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knowing

sad, crepuscular poems

won’t salve her heart

she writes incandescently

out of his perfidy


the Buddha said:

“Emptiness is all "…

this moonless night

the ravening darkness

of his suicide fills my heart


In warm folds of sheets

lingers sweet musk of your sweat

Arriving too soon

shadows of dawn take away

shoulder I rest my head on

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Nalini Priyadarshni, India

Sheets creased with your scent

I breathe deep stepping through your

window to dim street

your voice still bending my smiles

your warmth dwelling on my cheek

D. Russel Micnhimer

Here in the Rockies

Green braiding with spectral gray –

Trees and ghosts of trees

Left by the pine bore beetle,

Clinging to the mountainside.

Steve Klepetar

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A celebration –

We open bottles and wine

Dribbles down chins,

Our red tongues inflamed with joy.

Spring again, and green earth drinks.

Steve Klepetar

Why are you crying?

See how very rich you are?

Please read the contract,

My affluent friend, and now

Remit your immortal soul.

Steve Klepetar

In a fantasy

cloud you wander, tee-shirt reads:

“Frodo Lives.” All night

you explore the Golden Wood.

Dreams webs linger on your eyes.

Steve Klepetar

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Until I met you

I was proud, lived in a house

made of brick, but now

I sit with the other shades

In a hovel, eating dust.

Steve Klepetar

as if

nothing were missing

the old dog

stumbles toward me

on three legs

Kenneth Slaughter, USA

fifteen hours

‘till test results

the clock

on strike

refuses to move


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pissing quarters

into the urinal

at the toll booth…

all my earnings

from poetry


overhearing

the words irreparable

damage

I remain

in the shadows


rush

of compassion

I like

a facebook post

by the Dahlia Lama

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an old fish

with a hook in its mouth

in my dream

I shake it off

and swim away


winter sun

lying low in the sky…

shivering

I shield my eyes

from another day


lightning

and thunderclaps

all morning

37

…afterwards a stillness

broken by birdsong

Anne Curran

Hamilton, New Zealand

buying a new car

after the accident

I open

my windows

to winds of change

Anne Curran


first communion

for my little niece...

decades ago

I was the one

in a frilly white dress

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Anne Curran


daybreak

with the curtains drawn

my mind dark . . .

then, the warble

of a tui couple

Anne Curran


I save his voice

on the message phone...

I play it back

to embrace his warmth

on lonely nights

Anne Curran


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in the hospital

I sat with my father

watching t.v. ...

now at home

I feel him beside me

Anne Curran


the spider

weaves her web

under the bookshelf ...

a rag dusts it

into oblivion

Anne Curran


people find strange

this part of me

that likes to write...

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I move as part of the crowd,

the writer in me, mine

Anne Curran


arriving

too late or

too early

sitting on the steps

catching words

Anne Curran


a babbling brook

runs for miles

smoothing pebbles ...

so many words spoken

through the course of time

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Anne Curran


i will go

blue

as i climb

the clouds

without you

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

moonwalk–

I dream

of owning

the earth

…this home for

butterflies


42

a trip

to the moons

alone

i know why i dream

alone


midnight–

is it this hard

to set tea

without

a shadow


blue eyes–

holding the thoughts

of a hawk

building its nest

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near


october–

celebrating

a tea

as soon as

the sea stills


dream–

are you ready to pick

blues

out of a

rainbow


book club–

finding new waves

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in the lagoon

…is a playground

of dreams


book cover–

what is inside

that cloud …

can you give me

sushi


stars tear

the soft silk of night

its shreds

fall

shadow earth

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Janet Butler, USA

autumn winds blow hard

whisk me clean

of summer thoughts

his footprints

on my heart

Janet Butler, USA

this drought throws sand

against a sky

of hard blues

even shade is sharp-edged

watch your step.

Janet Butler, USA

I uncork

a bottle of silence

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its bouquet

fills the room

plum-scented peace

Janet Butler, USA

she wakes and stares

at white sheets

islands cut by moonlight

him asleep

in a new geography

Janet Butler, USA

a dried rose falls

from the pages

of a tattered book

dreams hidden

from prying eyes

Janet Butler, USA

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my shadow becomes an open door

framed

by moonlight

I walk cautiously behind

one foot about to enter

Janet Butler, USA

early morning fog

settles like milk and creates

a waking dreamland

I construct an enchanted forest

from your glance

Janet Butler, USA

a whirl of wind

and ragged clouds tear

across sky

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my thoughts dry leaves

dancing to an old song

Janet Butler, USA

dawn

leans full-breasted

against night

who reluctantly

lets her rise

Janet Butler, USA

buzzards gone

hummingbirds too

signs of winter abound

keeper of spring... in my heart

flickers turn around

Judi Brannan Armbruster, USA

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a woodpecker

drumming in the woods...

this constant

reminder to chop down

redundancies

Shloka Shankar, India

strolling

along the beach...

I ask myself

questions only you

can answer


by my bedside

a photo of us together

in black and white...

autumnal hues fill

everything in between

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winter dusk

exhales a poem...

I do not

sit on monuments

waiting for my muse


festive lights

adorn the front porch...

deep inside

the noir of my heart,

hope glimmers anew


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Chad M. Horn, Harrodsburg, KY, USA

its source

old map reads

mountains of the moon...

natural water falls down

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this river that flows north

Pat Geyer, USA

watching

them sleep

she waits...

the impatience

of the sun

Pat Geyer, USA

looking up

kites cut through the blue...

catching the tail of

the morning wind together

we tip toe through branches

Pat Geyer, USA

my path

a slippery slope...

tracing

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the roots of trees

now overgrown

Pat Geyer, USA

both asleep

holding hands

we dream...

night brings

our hearts closer

Pat Geyer, USA

between

thunderstorms...

eyes closed

we breathe every

scent of the calm

Pat Geyer, USA

planting red and white

chrysanthemums

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I'm startled

to realize my father

is still alive

Miriam SaganSanta Fe, NM USA

first crocuses

purple, yellow, white--

we spend

the equinox

touring the old battleground


monuments

of both sides

weathered now--

a mossy boulder marks

nothing more than time

Miriam Sagan

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Santa Fe, NM USA

at the peace flame

a driving wind--

to remember

or to forget,

spring is the right season.


the spin

of hurricanes across

the equator

how quickly my emotions

change direction

Marianne Paul, Canada

56

milkweed silk

emulating the flight

of monarchs

we all have heroes

we want to be


the machine

rejects my ballot

on election day

i much prefer a human touch

when it comes to rejection


another

scientific theory

57

bites the dust

all those things

i think i know


touchscreen

texts and rapid

thumbs--

the teens in awe at the flair

of my handwriting


silence

of a full moon

through the clouds...

my eyes follow

one pendulum bob

Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India

sea

58

without a wave

cradles the moon--

towed by my dream

i keep sailing and sailing


time trickles

like a careless

teardrop

he goes on peeling

the scales of his day


the kiss

you left on the wind

a petal

falls onto my path

silken lips of memory

Caroline Skanne, UK

those times

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when i get lost

in darkness

behind the clouds

you still find me

Caroline Skanne, UK

so many

poems begin here

on the horizon

where dreams await

their realisation

Caroline Skanne, UK

with the tender

touch of a promise

you tread ...

my life line slowly

i open to love

Caroline Skanne, UK

60

my fingertips

softly trace your back

in appreciation

of the strength

you hold within

Caroline Skanne, UK

rhythm of you

and me together

we cascade

into a waterfall

of need

Caroline Skanne, UK

rain streaked

this desire to feel

every moment

to my very skin

your lips will do

Caroline Skanne, UK

61

silken paths

for dreams to

slide down

the silent ripples

of autumn stars

Caroline Skanne, UK

the sultry

scent of night blooming

jasmines...

do you remember

our first kiss?

Caroline Skanne, UK

speaking of leaving

she says to read her diary

after she’s dead

her refusal

to budge

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Susan Burch, USA

on our bed

bathed in a windowpane

of moonlight

your broken nose

still bloody from our fight

Susan Burch, USA

lured into thinking

I would be his first wife

I don’t know what’s worse

the life he stole from me

or his unwelcoming wives

Susan Burch, USA

inhaling bleach

mobs my memory

I’m trapped

reliving the rape

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dirty again

Susan Burch, USA

memories of you

fill my mind, yet

miss so much

the heaviness of your arm

spooned around me, forgotten…

Susan Burch, USA

the sonogram shows

a baby’s head

but no heartbeat

I am pregnant

with a tumor

Susan Burch, USA

I can’t move

machines breathe for me

life support

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is pointless, when again

no one visits

Susan Burch, USA

waiting three months

by the side of the bed

his soft brown slippers

as if he’ll return, undead -

Mom asks when I will move them

Susan Burch, USA

road closed –

10 minutes of my life

wasted

because no one

put up a sign

Susan Burch, USA

table for two I say

when it hits me that you’re

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gone again -

at our table

a drooping daisy

Susan Burch, USA

my wedding album

replaces the memories

I’ve lost…

this empty space

between pages

Mary Davila, USA

children jumping

into the dry crunch

of maple laughter…

behind the rustle of curtains

a little boy on crutches

Mary Davila, USA

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my friend

asks if I’ve had a stroke

a bell flower

droops

into my reflection

Mary Davila, USA

Some chickadees

land on leafless boughs.—

A sensation of plenitude

after a full sensation

of nakedness.

Ali Znaidi, Tunisia

The sun’s rays

penetrate through

the door’s holes.—

Glittering pieces

of a shattered glass.

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Ali Znaidi, Tunisia

Hot tears

inundating

the lonesome lotus flower.

I still believe in

dreams.

Ali Znaidi, Tunisia

A line of red ants

in dark phosphatic sand.—

A flash of lightning

piercing the moonless

sky.

Ali Znaidi, Tunisia

Bare branches

of the almond tree.—

A brainwashed

zombie

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without a memory.

Ali Znaidi, Tunisia

Soft foam

touching my feet.

I remember

the cotton socks

I wore in my childhood.

Ali Znaidi, Tunisia

Editor’s Tanka

a hearse turns

down the footpath of dust

and the cantor sings . . .

there is silence

a stripping of life forever

69

Sergio Ortiz, Puerto Rico

i wish her a frail voice

that says goodbye forever—

not even death

in a distant place

chases away my sorrow


he disappeared

like a fragrance, while

I grow old

living in carved out caves

unable to find my way


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Chad M. Horn, Harrodsburg, KY, USA

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undertow tanka review issue # 3

Documents

editors tanka

undertow tanka review

book haiku

organic tanka anthology

featured tanka art mary

kalahari review

world haiku association

print edition of modern