Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Submissions are open for the 4th Issue of Undertow Tanka Review

Submissions are open for the 4th Issue of Undertow Tanka Review



Kindly submit up to 10 previously unpublished tanka, tanka art, &/or 10 sequence, 10 haiku.
“Undertow Tanka Submission” to:

undertowtanka @ gmail . com

Or use Contact Form to the right



*** by January 26, 2015 / Fourth (4th) Issue
to be online by January 30, 2015


At the end of your submission, please include your full name and country of residence. All rights revert to authors upon publication. Your tanka must not be under consideration elsewhere or submitted to any contest. Hopefully this will become a print Review in the near future. We accept submissions year-round.  


*** We are accepting Haiku submissions


Best wishes,

Sergio Ortiz, Editor

UNDERTOW TANKA REVIEW ISSUE # 3

 MAY ALSO PURCHASE THIS ISSUE AT createspace.com ..... https://www.createspace.com/5044161 ...... . . and amazon ......... www.amazon.com/Undertow-Tanka-Review-Issue/dp/1502789590/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1417571895&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=undertow+tanka+review+isssue+3

UNDERTOW TANKA REVIEW ISSUE # 3



Contents Page: December 6th                                          page

1.    Featured Tanka        …………………………. . 3  
2.    Featured Tanka Art  …………………………..  6
3.    Tanka Sequences   …………………………. ... 7
4.    Tanka Art                 ………………………….  13
5.    Tanka                       ………………………….  24
6.    Editor’s Tanka         ………………………….  70





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.




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.



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.




Tanka Sequences






a long silence
between us
worn around my waist—
this morning
a prayer for you on my lips

tears fall
on the white sheets
I am lost
can prayers heal
broken dreams?

crispness of white sheets
marred
by tears tainted with doubt
why does one cry
in the womb of darkness?

I am a woman
love comes easily
in the dark
when the light comes
all the lovers have left

all the lovers have departed
light comes
shining on a woman
seated by a window
Miss Havisham-like

she rests
her head in her hands
and weeps
the path to her house
untrodden, full of weeds 
..................
Matsukaze    Lake Charles, Louisiana, USA
Joy 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

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




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
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 McCall
Irland / 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
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 


Tanka Art



Debbie Strange, Canada





Sergio Ortiz, Puerto Rico                Street Art





Debbie Strange, Canada




Pat Geyer, USA



Pat Geyer, US



Pat Geyer, US



Pat Geyer, US



Kenneth Slaughter, US



Ken Slaughter, USA     Photo by Jan Slaughter, USA



Kenneth Slaughter, USA



Caroline Skanne, UK


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
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
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
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

Carole Johnston, USA

shaman dreams
find me hibernating
with memory
shape shifting shadows
keep me winter warm

Carole Johnston, USA

he tells me
there is an old woman
by the sea
she sells oranges
she speaks the truth

Carole Johnston, USA

buried
in black velvet
silence
our moonless eyes
mindless as tombs

Carole Johnston, USA

you and I again
at a diner in Jersey
monarch butterfly
outside the window
last flowers of autumn

Carole Johnston, USA

monarch wings
restless on the wind
fluttering
a Reeses wrapper
lands on the road

Carole Johnston, USA

darkest hour
dreams of tender ghosts
float the cobalt sky
drunk on notes strung
from a muted trumpet

Carole Johnston, USA

I want
to be a sandpiper
racing
back and forth in surf
always leaving

Carole Johnston, USA

as if we are
old souls together again
just once a year
we meet in some graveyard
enveloped by falling leaves

Carole Johnston, USA

I wander
up the pumpkin mountain
to Woodstock
where magic is friendship
and shooting stars

Carole Johnston, USA



mist streams
through the charred walls
of Drukgyel dzong
as if in memory
of incense and prayers

Sonam Chhoki,  Bhutan

rippling
lozenges of light
on the nursery wall
a crystal mobile pools
the un-slept cot

Sonam Chhoki,  Bhutan

knowing
sad, crepuscular poems
won’t salve her heart
she writes incandescently
out of his perfidy


Sonam Chhoki,  Bhutan

the Buddha said:
“Emptiness is all "…
this moonless night
the ravening darkness
of his suicide fills my heart

Sonam Chhoki,  Bhutan



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


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

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

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

Kenneth Slaughter, USA

pissing quarters
into the urinal
at the toll booth…
all my earnings
from poetry

Kenneth Slaughter, USA

overhearing
the words irreparable
damage
I remain
in the shadows

Kenneth Slaughter, USA

rush
of compassion
I like
a facebook post
by the Dahlia Lama

Kenneth Slaughter, USA

an old fish
with a hook in its mouth
in my dream
I shake it off
and swim away

Kenneth Slaughter, USA

winter sun
lying low in the sky…
shivering
I shield my eyes
from another day

Kenneth Slaughter, USA




lightning
and thunderclaps
all morning
…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
Hamilton, New Zealand


first communion
for my little niece...
decades ago
I was the one
in a frilly white dress

Anne Curran
Hamilton, New Zealand


daybreak
with the curtains drawn
my mind dark . . .
then, the warble
of a tui couple

Anne Curran
Hamilton, New Zealand


I save his voice
on the message phone...
I play it back
to embrace his warmth
on lonely nights

Anne Curran
Hamilton, New Zealand


in the hospital
I sat with my father
watching t.v. ...
now at home
I feel him beside me

Anne Curran
Hamilton, New Zealand


the spider
weaves her web
under the bookshelf ...
a rag dusts it
into oblivion

Anne Curran
Hamilton, New Zealand

people find strange
this part of me
that likes to write...
I move as part of the crowd,
the writer in me, mine


Anne Curran
Hamilton, New Zealand

arriving
too late or
too early
sitting on the steps
catching words


Anne Curran
Hamilton, New Zealand


a babbling brook
runs for miles
smoothing pebbles ...
so many words spoken
through the course of time

Anne Curran
Hamilton, New Zealand




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

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

                       

a trip                                                                          
to the moons            
alone
i know why i dream
alone

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

midnight–                                                                 
is it this hard                                                            
to set tea                                                       
without                                                                      
a shadow

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

blue eyes–                                                   
holding the thoughts                                                          
of a hawk                                                      
building its nest                                                       
near

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

october–                                                                                
celebrating
a tea  
as soon as                                                                            
the sea stills

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

dream–                                                                                  
are you ready to pick                                                                                                                      
blues                                                                                                 
out of a                                                          
rainbow

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

book club–                                                               
finding new waves                                                 
in the lagoon                                                                       
…is a playground                                                   
of dreams
           
David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

book cover–                                                             
what is inside                                                                      
that cloud …                                                            
can you give me                                                      
sushi

David Ishaya Osu, Nigeria

           


stars tear
the soft silk of night
its shreds
fall
shadow earth

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
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


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
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




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

Shloka Shankar, India

by my bedside
a photo of us together
in black and white...
autumnal hues fill
everything in between

Shloka Shankar, India

winter dusk
exhales a poem...
I do not
sit on monuments
waiting for my muse

Shloka Shankar, India

festive lights
adorn the front porch...
deep inside
the noir of my heart,
hope glimmers anew

Shloka Shankar, India




Chad M. Horn, Harrodsburg, KY, USA


its source

old map reads
mountains of the moon...
natural water falls down
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
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
I'm startled
to realize my father
is still alive

 Miriam Sagan
Santa Fe, NM USA


first crocuses
purple, yellow, white--
we spend
the equinox
touring the old battleground

 Miriam Sagan
Santa Fe, NM USA

monuments
of both sides
weathered now--
a mossy boulder marks
nothing more than time

 Miriam Sagan
Santa Fe, NM USA

at the peace flame
a driving wind--
to remember
or to forget,
spring is the right season.

 Miriam Sagan
Santa Fe, NM USA






the spin
of hurricanes across
the equator
how quickly my emotions
change direction


Marianne Paul, Canada


milkweed silk
emulating the flight
of monarchs
we all have heroes
we want to be


Marianne Paul, Canada


the machine
rejects my ballot
on election day
i much prefer a human touch
when it comes to rejection


 Marianne Paul, Canada


another
scientific theory
bites the dust
all those things
i think i know

Marianne Paul, Canada


touchscreen
texts and rapid
thumbs--
the teens in awe at the flair
of my handwriting

 Marianne Paul, Canada
silence
of a full moon
through the clouds...
my eyes follow
one pendulum bob

Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India

sea
without a wave
cradles the moon--
towed by my dream
i keep sailing and sailing

Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India

time trickles
like a careless
teardrop
he goes on peeling
the scales of his day

Arunansu Bandyopadhyay, India
the kiss
you left on the wind
a petal
falls onto my path
silken lips of memory

Caroline Skanne, UK

those times
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

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

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

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
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
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
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

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.

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
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



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


Sergio Ortiz, Puerto Rico





he disappeared
like a fragrance, while
I grow old
living in carved out caves
unable to find my way


Sergio Ortiz, Puerto Rico



Chad M. Horn, Harrodsburg, KY, USA