Warp and Weft ~ Images and Words: April 2024

Thursday, April 25, 2024

Scarlet Dragonfly Journal, Issue 24, April 2024

Wednesday, April 24, 2024

Scarlet Dragonfly Journal, Issue 23, March 2024

Prune Juice, Issue 42, April 2024

Honoured to have two haiga selected for this issue:

Presence, Number 78, March 2024

pogonip

I shorten the length

of my stride

rural bus stop

a border collie waits

for his boy

emerging

from a tree-lined tunnel

of fog

I choose not to look back

at my younger self

Our Best Haiga: Black & White Haiga/Haisha, April 2024

Curated by Lavana Kray

April 10, 2024

(Note: this tanka received an Honourable Mention in the 2023 Fleeting Words Tanka Competition)

Our Best Haiga: Black & White Haiga/Haisha, March 2024

Curated by Lavana Kray

March 15, 2024

(Note: this tanka received 2nd Place in the 2022 Fleeting Words Tanka Competition, and the tanka art first appeared in my film "Shadowlight" for the 2023 Haiku Foundation HaikuLife Film Festival)

Horror Senryu Journal, April 2024

seiche effect

the missing man bobs

back and forth

border patrol

a hank of hair caught

on barbed wire

Kokako, Number 40, April 2024

Thrilled to have had work selected for this final print issue!

prairie blizzard the hissing of kerosene

old friends

a trio of puffins

rubbing beaks

city parables . . .

street corner prophets

offering

their thunder to gods

and other strangers

this mountain,

a spiritual gateway . . .

I look

for myself beyond

the forest of clouds

The Heron's Nest, Volume 25, 2023

estate auction

someone's life goes

for a song

hard times

fishing nets tie

the village together

I was thrilled to discover that three readers had commented on "hard times":

Debbie's poem I particularly loved and it has stayed with me partly because I did help out on a small fishing boat many years ago. A small village that relies on fishing for food and income now has to pull together even more to get by. I think the verb 'tie' is perfect here. It has so many connotations.

—Lorraine Haig

When I read this poem, I first thought of the First Nations' and Native American villages being devastated by the failure of the salmon runs. As I sit with it, I realize it applies as well to the Maine villages that were sustained by ground fish, herring, and lobster and are now struggling, held together only by their nets and traps and heritage. The focus can be expanded to the rest of New England, New Brunswick—and truly coastal communities around the world. In eight words, Debbie Strange has captured the impact of our abuse of the oceans as well as inland waters.

—Nancy Orr

Community. Fishing gets them through hard times. The fishing nets are the glue holding the community together.

—Lyle Smith

Red Lights, Vol. 20, Number 1, January 2024

the sacred fire

and solemn truth

of sunrise . . .

we might not see it,

but we know it's there

Melancholia's Garden

on this dark day

we are heartened

by buttercups

turning their faces

toward the sun

a few sprigs

of marjoram to soothe

this anxiety

breathing in, breathing out,

I come back to myself

we did not make

plans for this future

now, it seems

that weeds might be

the only sure thing

Note: this issue also includes my thoughts on the effect tanka has had on my life...

Tanka has enriched my inner and outer worlds beyond measure. It can be isolating to be a writer with disabilities, but this global community is generous, nurturing, enthusiastic, and helpful. Writing tanka allows me to delve deeply into the ways in which nature influences my life and to connect with others through this sharing of experiences and emotions.