Category Archives: tanka

a work of love (chapbook)

22 Wednesday Jun 2022

Posted by in A Work of Love, Chapbooks, Published Poems, tanka

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A Work of Love  (1997)  Tanka

from Tiny Poems Press ( out of print)

*
*
*

midnight again
the furnace cycles off
and no wind-
for a while the quiet
becomes a longing

*

*

*

between chores
I study my hands
as if they might hold
something
I should know

*

*

*

tiny bluets
all around me
and over there
a couple,
very much in love

*

*

*

I can’t help my desire
glancing over
to her terminal
after little bits of decent
time have passed

*

*

*

by spontaneous consent
our subtle flirting
has played itself out–
our friendship will be
all the better for this

*

*

*

she’s not here
to see it
but after breaking the stick
I perfectly fit the broken ends
back together again

*

*

*

as if one
were not enough
I daydream pleasantly
of several women
I know

*

*

*

her look guarded
as she tells me
she may be late–
what great news this is,
she still will come

*

*

*

so intent with feeling
that her warm greeting
to someone just beyond me
gave me a moment so sure
she was greeting me

*

*

*

seeing her by chance
I once had a dream about her
years ago–
over time it has taken on
a substance of its own

*

*

*

what a surprise
she wants to take a photo
of us together–
I keep thinking
about it

*

*

*

Queen Anne’s Lace and
Black Eyed Susans
by the thousands along the road
and to think
you married me

*

*

*

as we gaze across the fence
my wife asks what I think
about a cow’s life,
honestly it looks quite okay
except for the flies

*

*

*

far from home
in the car
my wife mentions in passing
the name of someone
we don’t see anymore

*

*

*

in the company of friends
our marriage takes on
an air of comfort
as we all attend to things
other than ourselves


*

*

*

after supporting
their divorce plans
I write them a Valentine;
suggest they reconsider
it all again

*

*

*

beyond this life
that one old friend
I bump into over and over
promising that we’ll get together
again, someday

*

*

*

deep in the night
letting the phone ring
and ring…
then for a long time
wondering who?

*

*

*

when I think back
six years ago
when my mother had the stroke
I can’t remember who
I was back then

*

*

*

under a tree
we talk of mother’s passage
from this life–
inchworms suspended
all around us

*

*

*

I had it all
figured out,
this little wisdom of mine,
then in the night
the rain so hard

*

*

*

who knows what she thinks
or desires
yet the rain this Saturday
steady, as my wife reads
I watch her carefully

*

*

*

these days housebound
if only we could agree
to keep our words
silently
to ourselves


*

*

*

wanting my old life
when I wanted
my present life
stirring the soup she made
as a cold rain falls outside

*

*

*

some days seem
altogether too much
but then
so welcome it becomes
the night

*

*

*

after a rough day
she props her head in hand
a few inches from my face
and asks intently:
“do you really like me?”



*

*

*

the house quiet
and cold
this early morning alone
saddened to know how much
I desired just this



*

*

*

the envelope to me
sealed carefully with tape
on every seam
when opened, reveals
absolutely nothing



*

*

*

tolerably melancholy
to sit here while the kids play
and be lost in myself–
on a path nearby
she walks in the sun



*

*

*

for over a decade
we’ve talked–
still you want our talk
as much as I want
the silences between



*

*

*

nothing special
about deja-vu,
feeling down–
once long ago I felt
young and free



*

*

*

even though
we’re always together
my wife asks if
I’ve tried
the new pizza place

*

*

*

I look over
the three sleeping bodies
beside me–
to think a whole decade
I felt all alone



*

*

*

instinctively
for old times’ sake
I reach out, half awake,
to give your breast
a quick little squeeze

*

*

*

this rainy fall Sunday
I write poems and watch
steam rise from my tea–
as she passes she rips off
a little piece of sandpaper for me



*

*

*

my youth spent
gathering strength and solace
of friends near and far–
these short years later
losing them one by one

*

*

*

the cold walk,
silence
between us,
the creek running
under ice



*

*

*

every few bounces
the robin pauses on the lawn
to look and listen
as if that were all
there was to do

*

*

*

I have much to do
it is obvious–
what I will do is exactly
what she wants,
her little two year old heart



*

*

*

the tentative start-up
of talk…
to a new friend?
begins the old doubt
of just who I am, again


*

*

A Work of Love

16 Thursday Jun 2022

Posted by in A Work of Love, Book reviews, Published Poems, tanka

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A Work of Love by Tom Clausen, Tiny Poems Press Chapbook Winner 1997.The booklets of the winners of the chapbook contest are 5.5 x 4.25 inches, staple bound, and available for $3.00 ppd each, or $10 for the set of four postpaid. Hint: go for the whole series. They are truly worth every cent. Order from Tiny Poems Press, 170 Elm Street, Enfield, CT 06082.Here, an existing language has been chosen by Tom Clausen to enlarge and explain certain spiritual spaces in which a privileged reader can participate. There is, like always, a price for such an experience – the reader somehow has to give up conventional linear thinking and instead has to give into physical and psychic areas where Clausen is not only at home but through several years of hard work also developed his own way of composing 5-liners.Tom Clausen has the advantage to work as a librarian, which means, he enjoys having constant access to world-literature. With this far reaching education he paved his way into the haiku/tanka/haibun-scene. Now, with Lynx also on-line, his work occurs in circles spreading into another body of resonance. With this latest composition of forty tanka, A Work of Love, Clausen offers new ways to refer to daily life at a level where the poetical language meets and surpasses the demanding situations we all often would like to stay away from. Well, with his booklet in a small pocket you may sit in a rowboat at dawn. You are on a trip while already having in mind to go diving; the element you’ll chose is the fluid one. Preparing yourself, there is some spare time ahead of you to be filled with something important, right? What’s available to be read? Perhaps Clausen’s tanka? Here are only three of the works of love: 


the envelope to me
sealed carefully with tape
on every seam
when opened, reveals
absolutely nothing




for over a decade
we’ve talked –
still you want our talk
as much as I want
the silences between




tolerably melancholy
to sit here while the kids play
and be lost in myself –
on a path nearby
she walks in the sun




Books Review Copyright © Jane Reichhold 1997.

Gusts tanka

04 Saturday Jun 2022

Posted by in Gusts, Published Poems, tanka

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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