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Category Archives: Gusts

Gusts tanka

04 Saturday Jun 2022

Posted by Tom Clausen in Gusts, Published Poems, tanka

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Gusts, little poems, poetry, Published Poems, tanka

to ward off
who knows what
i buy a dozen pencils
to be armed
just in case

***
***

covered quietly
by falling snow
in the woods
along with everything else
the deer’s remains

***
***

with three running lights
burning through the night
our neighbor’s house shipshape
on it journey
to tomorrow

-Gusts no. 33 spring/summer 2021 

***
***

not once has any of them 
signaled ‘goodbye’
when walking away…
yet they keep coming back ;
my deer family 

***

***

upstairs sounds 
of my cat running around
and caterwauling …
don’t I know these forces 
at work in us all?

Gusts no. 32   fall/winter 2020 

***
***

a lonely stretch
of road
with no passing 
from one dream 
into another

***

***

thistledown
in the air
as I begin the hike
wondering when
I’ll see you again 

gusts no. 31    spring/summer 2020 

***
***

I’m not even looking 
for anything
second time out 
to the empty 
mailbox 

***

***

the world 
may be falling 
apart 
yet my skittish cat
settles on my lap 

gusts no.30  fall/winter 2019 

***
***

only a dream
yet so not me
to drive full speed
right through 
a STOP sign 

***
***

room by room
our house
undergoing KonMari-
in an easy chair
i drift off

gusts  no.29     spring/summer 2019


***

***

even if I knew better 
i might follow
the swallowtail
from one milkweed
to another…



***

***

our evening walk
into the dusk
and silence…
the hollowness
of a mourning dove’s call

***

***

what have I done
and can such a thing
be undone…
a doe waits and watches 
expectantly for me

gusts no. 28   fall/winter 2018

***

***


these years
listening to the wind
in the trees …
where has my love
left me?



***

***

the work and gifts
of this world,
whether I do anything 
or not,
summer stars 

gusts no.27   spring/summer 2018


***

***

waves leaving the sound

of stones against stones

this lifelong mystery

of trying to become 

myself…

gusts no.26   fall/winter 2017


***

***

one of my childhood drawings 
of what looks like a factory 
next to a cemetery,
as if i knew something 
way back then…


***

***

below where the tree 

broke off

some branches 

carry on

in the wind

gusts no. 25    spring /summer 2017


***

***

another reminder 
in this writing life
that it just may be
I’ll never get organized 
in this life


***

***

this resignation 
that even spilled tea 
can bring up our need 
for a different 
bigger house


*** 

***

lying there 
at the end of the bed
my cat shows me
what being fully content
is all about 

gusts no. 24  fall/winter 2016



***

***

a scatter of feathers
under the big pine
in the cemetery …
piecing together again 
my memories 


***

***

reading an old letter
I wrote to my parents
from Mexico…
another part of me
gone with them 

gusts no. 23  spring/summer 2016



***

***

before we were here 
the centuries 
already became eons,
the gravity of light on water 
falling into dark



***

***

old friends
and flowers
faithful each year, 
the smile of knowing 
across the years 


***

***

cloud gazing…
I thought about it 
but wasn’t sure 
what I’d do 
with an empty mind 

gusts no.22   fall/winter 2015 


***

***

in the dark
these ruminations 
of what I think
others think 
I should be doing…


***

***


it had been years 
but then just like that
an email shows up silently, 
the way a death arrives 
from far away …


***

***

more redundant snow…
time to let goof this day,
to sleep and take up 
the life of dreams 
and nothingness 

gusts no. 21  spring/summer 2015 


***

***


I am getting older 
with these trees
but can still remember 
as a child 
I really loved old things 


***

***

the time I’ve spent looking 
for her slipper 
outweighs any good cause-
any love lost 
requires such searching 

gusts no.20   fall/winter 2014  



***

***

the logistics
not to mention the expense
has turned out ideal
this trip around the world
while lying in bed 


***

***

I’ve found a place
this rainy January day
to be alone by choice
with some emptiness 
that sustains me…


***

***

around the bonfire
conversation focused
on the past…
I bring woodsmoke 
to bed

gusts no. 19   spring/summer 2014 


***

***

in this last chapter
the cast of hundreds 
in my dream
without my knowing 
a single one


***

***


I’ve heard it enough
to know well
it is not a happy word, 
yet she just said “whatever”
with a refreshing nice new tone…


***

***

quickening my pace
as the rain picks up
I reach an all-out run…
fully drenched I slow back down 
to a walk again…

gusts no.18    fall/winter 2013 



***

***

at the outdoor theater
my attention shifts 
to a few wild geese
sounding through 
the Shakespeare…

***
***

yet another message
to be found out here, 
the plains town 
football field 
without a scoreboard 

gusts no. 16   fall/winter 2012 

***

***

so much 
not happening 
the way it’s supposed to;
not the least, our cat
circles the empty dish 

***

***

pulling the sheet
and covers back
I get in and lie down
prepared for the theater 
of my dreams… 

gusts no.15   spring/summer 2012 

***

***

everyone gathered 
in a circle under the trees-
between readers 
in the microphone
the wind 

***

***

summer night 
in a pile of rubble
the house’s scent,
a hundred years 
just like that…

***

***

the grass gone brown
this summer of my 60th,
that much is clear…
now, to reclaim myself
in this long-term drought 

gusts no. 14   fall/winter 2011  


***

***

so many tangles 
in the snowy thicket
the sparrows go through…
it’s the kind of place
my past resides 


***

***

were I an old dog
with a happy grin
and even some naughty habits
it seems my family
might find me more sympathetic 


***

***

passing by so close
and quietly…
it’s as if the dark permits 
the deer and me
a mutual sense of safety 

gusts no.13  spring/summer 2011


***

***

just as dutifully
as the cat 
brought the mouse
I remove it
before my wife can see 


***

***


in the attic
to find things to get rid of,
but the rain on the roof
lulls me to the joy
in each thing I find


***

***


inches away from me
in bed, 
yet in my dream 
I’m on the phone to tell her 
I’m going for a bike ride 

gusts no. 12   fall/winter 2010 



***

***


the moon 
after the rain 
moldering leaves-
not that I ever could 
make sense of my life 


***

***


I ask him
if he believes 
everything he writes…
yes, he says, God has said
it is all true


***

***


drawn to that page
in the paper as if 
some great secret was there; 
to see the age that 
everyone left their life 

gusts no. 11  spring/summer 2010 


***

***


out in the woods a relic
with a rusty chrome bumper
detached…
it becomes my cross to bear 
back home



***

***


it’s just
three little words 
but she stops 
crying 
and we move on 


***

***


the deer still finds 
some reason to ford
the river swollen with rain,
how content I am 
rarely fording anything 

gusts no.10   fall/winter 2009 


***

***


snow falling 
in the dark woods 
like endless thoughts
there is no way out 
of who I am 


***

***


from Trinidad and Tobago 
his smile irresistible
and within mere moments 
he warmly shakes my hand 
again, and again 


***

***


a horse rolling 
in the sunny snow, 
now, that will be the image 
to carry today 
for tomorrow

gusts no.9   spring/summer 2009 


***

***


frisky as all get out,
her boyfriend smiles 
at me-
a knowing smile
I once knew 


***

***


asked to arrange 
the flowers in a vase 
I put them in any which way –
so glad there are some things 
which can’t go wrong


*** 

***


it’s her keys again, 
the search now
in its third day…
would that we might find 
some of our love lost as well 

gusts no.8   fall/winter 2008


***

***


thinking again 
I should do everything 
just as my wife wants…
these cycles of new snow
becoming old and melting away 


***

***


I leave it
unwashed, 
her fragile glass 
like others 
I’ve broken before 


***

***


I ask him about his day, 
what he did, 
if he got enough sleep 
and in response 
a soulful look and purring 

gusts no. 7   spring/summer 2008 


***

***


in the sun
a fine sifting of snow
blows off the roof-
betrayed once
she never forgets


***

***


how can one relate
to one season 
more than another…
this deep and clear sense of autumn 
stretching back to childhood


***

***

across our bed
my wife reminds me again, 
that love letter she found, 
one I wrote long ago
with someone else in mind

gusts no. 5   spring/summer 2007


***

***


in the park
someone approaches me,
they have found God
and want to tell me
all about it


***

***

in a silent moment
of honesty
I see my children,
the way they protect me
from myself 


***

***


it is a small event
at the end of the workday
this can of beer
yet without doubt my life
has become such small events 

gusts no.4   fall/winter 2006 


***

***


sun on new snow
fills the field
with a certain blindness
unable to see you now
as I did back then


***

***


my daughter’s hand 
reaches out to receive
the plate with bagel…
how silently I mouth 
‘thank you’ for her

gusts no.3   spring/summer 2006


***

***


lying here, eyes closed
in denial
until I get up for the day
mostly forgetting
that new ceiling crack 


***

***


my wife says
I can’t change, 
I’m too happy as I am
as soon as the snow is gone
it starts to snow again 


***

***


not even 8 a.m. and 
already I’m tired 
of my little family-
thank goodness for the outside
peace of trees 

gusts no.2    fall/winter 2005


***

***

watching my wife
train the puppy
the truth sinks in…
how much I’ve resisted
over all these years 

gusts no. 1   spring/summer   2005

Gusts tanka by Tom Clausen

13 Monday Sep 2021

Posted by Tom Clausen in Gusts, poems and photos, Published Poems, tanka

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Gusts, poetry, tanka, writing

to ward off
who knows what
i buy a dozen pencils
to be armed
just in case


***


covered quietly
by falling snow
in the woods
along with everything else
the deer’s remains



***


with three running lights
burning through the night
our neighbor’s house shipshape
on it journey
to tomorrow


-Gusts no. 33 spring/summer 2021

falling apart by tom clausen

18 Friday Oct 2019

Posted by Tom Clausen in americana, cats, Gusts, mailboxes, nature, poems and photos, Published Poems, tanka, Tom poems at other sites

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

cats, life, mailbox, nature, poems, poetry, tanka

gusts  no. 30

 

the world
may be falling
apart
yet my skittish cat
settles on my lap

I’m not even looking
for anything
second time out
to the empty
mailbox

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