mute swans
under a moon bridge
the things
I should have confessed
make no difference now
1st Place
Judge an'ya's comments:
Selected for the first place in this competition, is this tanka by a well known author from Canada, Debbie Strange. Smoothly composed, the words "mute swans" in line 1 and "under a moon bridge" in line 2 starts it off beautifully. Debbie creates a distinct pause before she goes into lines 3 and 4 which juxtapose with a human relationship. This tanka then finally spills over to line 5, in a flowing crescendo and the moment of closure. Simple images, and straightforward words make this tanka work for anyone and everyone who reads it.
Friday, December 23, 2016
Cattails, September 2016
1st Place
2016 Fleeting Words Tanka Competition
mute swans
under a moon bridge
the things
I should have confessed
make no difference now
Comments from the Judge:
Selected for the first place in this competition, is this tanka by a well known author from Canada, Debbie Strange. Smoothly composed, the words "mute swans" in line 1 and "under a moon bridge" in line 2 starts it off beautifully. Debbie creates a distinct pause before she goes into lines 2 and 3 which juxtapose with a human relationship. This tanka then finally spills over to line 5, in a flowing crescendo and the moment of closure. Simple images, and straightforward words make this tanka work for anyone and everyone who reads it.
failing light
my life lines cradle
her laugh lines
one-eyed crow
a glimpse of starshine
between clouds
wind gusts
a rotten burl full
of wild plums
these stones
skim across water
letting go
of every burden,
I float into light
in my garden
a gatekeeper butterfly
basks in the sun
I cover my pale body
only coming out at night
the songs
my father sang to me
in a tongue
I could not understand
still, they carry me home
2016 Fleeting Words Tanka Competition
mute swans
under a moon bridge
the things
I should have confessed
make no difference now
Comments from the Judge:
Selected for the first place in this competition, is this tanka by a well known author from Canada, Debbie Strange. Smoothly composed, the words "mute swans" in line 1 and "under a moon bridge" in line 2 starts it off beautifully. Debbie creates a distinct pause before she goes into lines 2 and 3 which juxtapose with a human relationship. This tanka then finally spills over to line 5, in a flowing crescendo and the moment of closure. Simple images, and straightforward words make this tanka work for anyone and everyone who reads it.
—UHTS Contest Judge: an'ya cattails principal editor
Jane Reichhold Memorial Tribute (1937-2016)
a broken shell
her words return
in waves
*****
failing light
my life lines cradle
her laugh lines
one-eyed crow
a glimpse of starshine
between clouds
wind gusts
a rotten burl full
of wild plums
these stones
skim across water
letting go
of every burden,
I float into light
in my garden
a gatekeeper butterfly
basks in the sun
I cover my pale body
only coming out at night
the songs
my father sang to me
in a tongue
I could not understand
still, they carry me home
Undertow Tanka Review, Issue 9, December 2016
they dragged me
to view the body
my sister
no longer larger
than her shortened life
that dream
I long to have again
the one
where I grew lamina
and my breath was fire
I find
white begonias
at my door
in pogonip fog
the vague shape of you
to view the body
my sister
no longer larger
than her shortened life
that dream
I long to have again
the one
where I grew lamina
and my breath was fire
I find
white begonias
at my door
in pogonip fog
the vague shape of you
Hedgerow Poems, Number 100, December 2016
Print Edition
purple streaks in the busker's hair wild violets
night blindness moonbeams tangled in your lashes
I inhale
and my lungs fill up
with bees
though all hope is lost
there is still this hum
we slept
beneath a star blanket
that summer
and washed our faces
with morning dew
purple streaks in the busker's hair wild violets
night blindness moonbeams tangled in your lashes
I inhale
and my lungs fill up
with bees
though all hope is lost
there is still this hum
we slept
beneath a star blanket
that summer
and washed our faces
with morning dew
Full of Moonlight, Haiku Society of America, Members' Anthology 2016
ice fog
everything familiar
unfamiliar
3rd Place, Shintai Haiku
World Haiku Review
January 2016
everything familiar
unfamiliar
3rd Place, Shintai Haiku
World Haiku Review
January 2016
Frameless Sky, Issue 5, December 2016
sugar snow
the taste of nothing
on my tongue
steamy windows
the kettle whistles
our favourite tune
the taste of nothing
on my tongue
steamy windows
the kettle whistles
our favourite tune
Eucalypt, Issue 21, December 2016
soft silt
at the delta's mouth . . .
our breathing
within this moment
flocks of birds, rising
at the delta's mouth . . .
our breathing
within this moment
flocks of birds, rising
in uncured cement . . .
we imprint
our own mythology
upon each other's lives
"fallen leaves" was shortlisted for the Eucalypt Distinctive Scribblings Awards and appraised by Janet Lynn Davis:
I'd like to recognize a few other poets for their tanka that worked their way onto my list of favorites:
...Debbie Strange for her unique, thought-provoking fallen leaves...
I'd like to recognize a few other poets for their tanka that worked their way onto my list of favorites:
...Debbie Strange for her unique, thought-provoking fallen leaves...
Beginning, British Haiku Society Members' Anthology 2016
spawning coral
once a year, the snow
falls upward
once a year, the snow
falls upward
Blithe Spirit, Vol. 26, Number 4, November 2016
a broken circle
in the zen garden
sparrow prints
soft snow
the imprint of wings
a memory
I hear
your voice in silences
and birdsong . . .
the wind-strummed trees
still sing to me of you
the spaces
in which our hearts dwell
are sacred
palimpsests of those
we have loved before
within us
the light of stars . . .
why is it
we so often
choose not to shine?
in the zen garden
sparrow prints
soft snow
the imprint of wings
a memory
I hear
your voice in silences
and birdsong . . .
the wind-strummed trees
still sing to me of you
the spaces
in which our hearts dwell
are sacred
palimpsests of those
we have loved before
within us
the light of stars . . .
why is it
we so often
choose not to shine?
Thursday, December 08, 2016
Under the Basho, November 2016
Personal Best 2016
fog deepens
the sound of rabbits
nibbling night
Grand Prize
2016 World Haiku Contest
fog deepens
the sound of rabbits
nibbling night
Grand Prize
2016 World Haiku Contest
Ripples in the Sand, Tanka Society of America Members' Anthology 2016
jars of dew
on the veranda
tomorrow
i will consecrate
my baby's body
the brevity
of your sweet nothings
at times
i long for blossoms
rather than a bud
the meadow
astir with blue skimmers
their wings
darning these placid days
into our histories
on the veranda
tomorrow
i will consecrate
my baby's body
the brevity
of your sweet nothings
at times
i long for blossoms
rather than a bud
the meadow
astir with blue skimmers
their wings
darning these placid days
into our histories
Ribbons, Volume 12, Number 3, Fall 2016
these nightmares
of black widow spiders
spinning webs
into oncoming storms
that I can never name
two deep valleys
in a mountain's shadow
village children
pleading at day's end
for one more shaft of light
Certificate of Merit
Japan Tanka Poets' Society
The 8th International Tanka Festival Competition, 2016
of black widow spiders
spinning webs
into oncoming storms
that I can never name
two deep valleys
in a mountain's shadow
village children
pleading at day's end
for one more shaft of light
Certificate of Merit
Japan Tanka Poets' Society
The 8th International Tanka Festival Competition, 2016
NeverEnding Story, November 2016
Translated into Chinese by Chen-ou Liu
ballerinas
rehearsing in the park
i never knew
there were so many
graceful ways to die
A Hundred Gourds, 3:3, June 2014
Chen-ou Liu's comments:
Strategically speaking, through a pivot on the unexpected (L3) to uncover the existential/inevitable aspect of the human condition, Debbie's tanka effectively builds, poetic phrase (ku)/line by poetic phrase (ku)/line, to a thematically significant and emotionally powerful ending that has the most weight and reveals the theme of death (or more precisely, of the relationship between art and death).
By the way, I think the ballet referred to in the upper verse might be "Swan Lake."
*note from me: this tanka does indeed refer to "Swan Lake"
ballerinas
rehearsing in the park
i never knew
there were so many
graceful ways to die
A Hundred Gourds, 3:3, June 2014
Chen-ou Liu's comments:
Strategically speaking, through a pivot on the unexpected (L3) to uncover the existential/inevitable aspect of the human condition, Debbie's tanka effectively builds, poetic phrase (ku)/line by poetic phrase (ku)/line, to a thematically significant and emotionally powerful ending that has the most weight and reveals the theme of death (or more precisely, of the relationship between art and death).
By the way, I think the ballet referred to in the upper verse might be "Swan Lake."
*note from me: this tanka does indeed refer to "Swan Lake"
Neon Graffiti: Tanka Poetry of Urban Life, November 2016
the brilliance
of New Year's fireworks
at forty below
the colder it gets
the warmer we are
waiting for the bus
in morning's half light
not knowing
it would be the last time
she would hear her name
f i n a l l y
the river trail freezes
our ski tracks
the only graffiti
in this whitewashed city
at the corner
of poverty and despair
an Indigenous girl
is found in the river
I weep, I weep
on the midway
corn dogs and candy floss
a year older
but still not tall enough
to ride the roller coaster
peregrines
are nesting again
four chicks
on a hotel roof
peer into the lens
still waiting
year after year after year
for the news
how could no one have seen
or heard anything that night
city lights
in the frozen distance
spires reaching
toward the heavens
searching for a god
the neighbours
hibernate all winter
e m e r g i n g
into their backyards
like white-throated sparrows
of New Year's fireworks
at forty below
the colder it gets
the warmer we are
waiting for the bus
in morning's half light
not knowing
it would be the last time
she would hear her name
f i n a l l y
the river trail freezes
our ski tracks
the only graffiti
in this whitewashed city
at the corner
of poverty and despair
an Indigenous girl
is found in the river
I weep, I weep
on the midway
corn dogs and candy floss
a year older
but still not tall enough
to ride the roller coaster
peregrines
are nesting again
four chicks
on a hotel roof
peer into the lens
still waiting
year after year after year
for the news
how could no one have seen
or heard anything that night
city lights
in the frozen distance
spires reaching
toward the heavens
searching for a god
the neighbours
hibernate all winter
e m e r g i n g
into their backyards
like white-throated sparrows
Failed Haiku - A Journal of English Senryu, Issue 12, December 2016
The first haiga is in memory of Carlos Colon, aka Haiku Elvis
Creatrix Poetry and Haiku Journal, Number 35, December 2016
catch and release
the fat moon wriggles
off my line
the fat moon wriggles
off my line
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