Showing posts from March, 2014

to be dipped down tanka

to be dipped down and again into time— everyone screams as they go through life, silently

stained-glass window tanka

stained-glass window the beauty of your light  shining within a healthy measure  of darkness

Just Published in NeverEnding story - First English-Chinese Bilingual Haiku and Tanka Blog - thanks to the editor and translator, Chen-ou Liu Sunday, March 30, 2014 One Man's Maple Moon: Wild Horse Tanka by Sergio Ortiz English Original I was the sin, a wild horse galloping from the horizon -- everything I saw was spoken into her ear Cattails , 1, January 2014 Sergio Ortiz Chinese Translation (Traditional) 我有罪, 像是脫韁野馬從地平線 奔騰而來 -- 我所看到的一切 都在她耳邊訴說    Chinese Translation (Simplified) 我有罪, 像是脱韁野马从地平线 奔腾而来-- 我所看到的一切 都在她耳边诉说

let’s walk among tanka

*"let’s walk among the night’s dark roses"— it's hard to pack for the rest of my life when all I really need is a hug ~~~~~~ * Cabaret Ludwig by Rachel Wetzsteon

dawn broke tanka

dawn  broke... no, shattered— rattled  like a coin  in a beggar's cup days after your funeral

the skin of sleep is thin tanka

the skin of slumber is thin-- come back from the echoless shore, rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep

Scheherazade tanka

Scheherazade a day-and-night pattern  of spirals,  a thousand and one nights  of her private gamble

attrition warfare tanka

attrition warfare a language of mass death how high a price for victory

entre tanto escombro

entre tanto escombro me sigues colocando entre tanto escombro soy el hombre desmembrado, susurro poemas a la nieve hago lo que la gente hace bajo la influencia de un talismán dices que no me echas la culpa como los que me echan la culpa pero siempre estas arriba de mi desde tu arrogante montaña como una adversidad pantanosa y el resentimiento no se te cae más bien sigue creciendo la duda se apodera de ti hasta que la cacerola yace patas arriba en el fogón 

Tea Ceremony tanka

tea ceremony--  so tightly curled camellia leaves  open  as they steep  the way you woke this morning

winter and spring tanka.

the bones of winter become the limbs of spring nothing to squander … the buds of my youth dormant on their boughs

grandmother's orchid tanka

grandmother's orchid was a rainy day in my presence, the pool of wax under a burning candle,   foam from a waterfall

a woman moves earth to dispel grief tanka

she spread fires and floods on her toast, moving earth to dispel her grief ... now she reads the horoscope

one of these days poem

one of these days ... you'll fall down the side  of a mountain and I'll dream about scarecrows  with twisted limbs bouncing from rock to rock

harmony tanka

imitating the original harmony of a tiny flower to infuse heartmusic with mothersong

change is continuous

change is continuous  on the seamless web yet moments come  when you feel upon your heart the announcement of an end

to the small throat of sorrow tanka

the small throat of sorrow… I am  that hungry  yellow boy from the third world

to reach silence tanka

to reach silence naming what doesn't change I walk in the river of crisis toward the real finding the center of my fear

Rod Stewart - Have You Ever Seen The Rain


everybody has a heartache tanka

everybody has a heartache, blues in the midst of this vastness a drift of plankton 

eternal voices tanka

eternal voices — I wade through life’s tides restraining    the falcon of my mind

silkworms tanka

silkworms  smuggled out of Tehran ... I fear  this dead end road of doubt 

I have my own goats to tame tanka

I have my own goats to tame in the silence of my garden  and a bundle of sorrow I share with my lilies

worried your name is missing tanka

worried your name is missing— it circles in the shadow-world a wind-blown ghost

shadows prisoners left on the wall tanka

shadows prisoners left on the wall — scattered in a mass grave

a prison of sunlight tanka

a prison of sunlight on my skin — wildflowers sing to me, the dust of the dead dances on my tongue

in bad faith - a mystical tanka

in bad faith— our sun or then again the moon against a flat abyss, a groundless ground

a walk through the painted sky tanka

walking through the painted sky — in this prison  I count  and recount bones in the blaze of morning

salamander tanka

salamander on the tip of my tongue cocked ready to confront strangled with aphasia 

in my messy room tanka

in my messy room blind men tap their way by inches