there are still
births and marriages
everyday
sadly our local paper
only notes deaths now
births and marriages by tom clausen
05 Monday Jun 2023
Posted in americana, close up details, forests, nature, photos, poems and photos, tanka, trees
Tag Archives: tanka
afterthoughts by tom clausen
15 Monday May 2023
Posted in close up details, flowers, Ithaca, nature, photos, plants, poems and photos, spring, tanka
any which way by tom clausen
23 Sunday Apr 2023
Tags
dandelions, nature, photography, photos, poetry, spring, tanka
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
redbud by tom clausen
20 Thursday Apr 2023
Posted in close up details, flowers, nature, photos, poems and photos, Published Poems, spring, tanka, trees
the prize
19 Wednesday Apr 2023
Posted in nature, photos, poems and photos, ponds, Published Poems, reflections, tanka, water reflections
Tags
light, nature, photography, photos, poetry, reflections, tanka, water
is it the prize
of growing older
these vivid dreams
so much more dramatic
then what I do awake
a work of love (chapbook)
22 Wednesday Jun 2022
Posted in A Work of Love, Chapbooks, Published Poems, tanka
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
*
*
lost love
18 Saturday Jun 2022
Posted in Frogpond, Published Poems, tanka
A Work of Love
16 Thursday Jun 2022
Posted in A Work of Love, Book reviews, Published Poems, tanka
Tags
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 in Gusts, Published Poems, tanka
Tags
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
Tanka by Tom in LYNX
14 Sunday Nov 2021
Posted in Lynx,, tanka, Published Poems, tanka
LYNX– XV: 2 June 2000
autumn rain
at each window i stand
considering my life-
the overflow of feelings
and possibilities
**
**
if you pulled up
out front to visit
what could i show you
of my life
plainly as it is …
**
**
the rise and fall
of the cicada’s song,
my own heart
quietly recording
what it can
**
**
in the midst
of the children’s raucous play
i notice my son a moment
staring as if aware of something
fleeting past
**
**
no longer me
it proves a mystery who it is
i’ve become,
walking around this house
with my family there inside
**
**
at sleep’s border
the encounter is brief,
yet oh so magical and soft
caught where this life
merges into there…
tom clausen 