Laurels #4

Welcome

For Laurels #4 I chose the theme of time. If I had a clock or a watch, I would hear it ticking away as I rushed through these words. But we live in an age where all I have to do is refer to my phone, which tells me the time in silence. The tanka I chose range from humorous notions of time’s passing to poignant poems exploring the role time plays in illness and death. Do we cherish our remaining days more when we know they are numbered? Here is a poem by Karen Lazarus about how a health diagnosis led her to pay more attention to the present moment.

time changed

after diagnosis

each moment precious

the greatest gift now

is presence

The poems in this issue vary in terms of the poets’ perspectives on the subject of time and the images they use to bring forth the spirit of tanka poetry. I hope you will enjoy reading and savoring these gems.

Jackie Chou

parking ticket

at the public library

overdue books

just ran in for a minute

but I started reading

Charles Harmon

Los Angeles, California

this bruise-toned night

i fail to picture

how many

freckles were on

my mother’s face

Colin Sandberg

Vancouver, Washington

between the stones

moss softens my hand—

I wonder

how much of you

the earth remembers

C. X. Turner

Birmingham, United Kingdom

fifty years gone

after the storm

waterfalls streaming

down the face

of the mountain

Cynthia Anderson

Yucca Valley, California

my father’s life

wrapped around this bonsai

loved and cared for

over years of constant change

sculpted branches speak his name

David Lee Hill

Bakersfield, California

childhood

doled out by tablespoons

M&Ms

“chocolate chill” grandpa

called our Nestle’s Quik

Diane Funston

Marysville, California

sigh

over a memory

sixty years on

a lady in the park

with a walking stick

dipanka

Kolkata, India

waves wash away

traces of my footprints

worn paths

I took for granted

lost to the shifting tides

Dru Philippou

Taos, New Mexico

when a tooth fell out

I received a quarter—

but the tooth fairy

gives my great-niece

five dollars

Janet Ruth Heller

Portage, Michigan

autumn again

capricious youth gone

only the whiff

of wizened grapes

hanging on the vine

Jenny Fraser

Mount Maunganui, New Zealand

another shelf

of filled journals

an hourglass

sifting the old song

of my soul

Joanna Ashwell

Bernard Castle, United Kingdom

as the barn owl

sounds his eerie call

time carries me away

brings me back

to childhood’s home

Linda Conroy

Bellingham, Washington

dinosaur tracks

take a sharp turn

millions of years later

a medium-sized mammal

wonders why

Linda Weir

Ellicott City, Maryland

forest fire map

dry wind from the west

carries smoke

the smell of

so many burnt dreams

Miriam Sagan

Santa Fe, New Mexico

a pine tree

pierces the moon—

last night’s words

like brambles twisting

through frost-white time

Richard L. Matta

San Diego, California

espressos

sipped slowly

from demitasse cups

                 wafting memories

                 of our college days

Rupa Anand

New Delhi, India

awash in the tide

ancient planks drift in

memories of battle

of stolen and buried treasure

pirate ship bones

Sherri J Moye-Dombrosky

Liberty, South Carolina

Lake Nebagamon

casting time from a rowboat

taught by dad,

catch weeds, leave fish

for everyone else

Sigrid Saradunn

Bar Harbor, Maine

ocean mist

clearing old cobwebs

from my brain

I allot alone time

to creatures of the deep

an’ya

Port Orford, Oregon

it’s the tourniquet

of the watch band on my wrist

that gave it away

the little blue vein pulsing

news of my life’s persisting

Andrew Lansdown

Perth, Australia

the potted rose

from our first anniversary

flourishes in the garden

now a head higher

than either of us

Barbara Sabol

Akron, Ohio

broken tree limbs

burdened with snow

gnarled and twisted

my hunched trunk

weighing me down

Bonnie J Scherer

Palmer, Alaska

time aligns with

trembling spiderwebs

we tango over

tombstones carved

in the rocks of stars

Carole Johnston

Lexington, Kentucky

September’s

senescence

of the wilted

a cold scythe

on the horizon

Curt Pawlisch

Madison, Wisconsin

flash of a boar

retreating

to the uplands

even today

the old gods still roam

D. Keali’i MacKenzie

Kailua, Hawaii

tonight

the soliloquy of snow

does not console . . .

your voice forever lost

to those who loved you

Debbie Strange

Winnipeg, Manitoba

she says

that the mirror lies

crow’s feet

my thumb runs the paths

of a life together

Donald Jacob Uitvlugt

Little Rock, Arkansas

what day is it

my hubby asks over and over

without the sea

without the moon

does time even matter

Genie Nakano

Gardena, California

fresh wildflowers

left on a tomb

in the Japanese Alps

the timeless sound

of distant rapids

Jacob D. Salzer

Vancouver, Washington

the stream

by the altar stone

runs dry . . .

time suspended

in the orb-weaver’s web

Jenny Ward Angyal

Gibsonville, North Carolina

tick tock

the grandfather clock

measures time . . .

not slower, nor faster,

steady as a heart beat

Joanne Watcyn-Jones

Sydney, Australia

time changed

after diagnosis

each moment precious

the greatest gift now

is presence

Karen Lazarus

Brooklyn, New York

rushing

to keep up with

a turtle

making good time when

she needs to lay her eggs

Kathabela Wilson

Pasadena, California

four decades

since my Army days

abroad

I consider unpacking

my dog tags

Lenard Duane Moore

Raleigh, North Carolina

hogweed in flower

bottles & cans

long indigenous

to ditches

are disappearing

LeRoy Gorman

Napanee, Ontario

fireflies rehearse

in the bardo . . .

how quickly

her hand in mine

grows cold

Lorraine A Padden

San Diego, California

in an hourglass

billion-year-old sand grains

falling

to measure three minutes

for my cup noodles

Mari Konno

Fukui, Japan

starry nights

spent away from

my beloved cat

are your eyes still

clear peridot

Mariko Kitakubo

Tokyo, Japan

cloistered within

the library’s sandstone walls

the scrape

of my pen nib filling

the parchment page

Marilyn Humbert

Sydney, Australia

late autumn

gazing at old photos

of the departed

and friends lost in time—

addresses unknown

Marion A. Poirier

Boston, Massachusetts

last day of summer

around the bend

on the woodland path

the voice of my son

finding Pokémon

Michael Dylan Welch

Sammamish, Washington

time stands still

during this rush of euphoria

as she passes me

what’s left of the blunt

stained with red lipstick

Michael H. Lester

Los Angeles, California

what is it that’s said

about time healing all wounds . . .

I’m running out

and the sands are dwindling

in this one life’s hourglass

Michele L. Harvey

Hamilton, New York

autumn dusk—

familiar steps,

still I retrace to find

what I walked

into the room for

Nitu Yumnam

Ajman, United Arab Emirates

today I walk

the labyrinth

wondering

if the center

is my end

Peggy Hale Bilbro

Huntsville, Alabama

radium atoms

ignore their half-lives

slowly passing—

she savors every day

of his absence

Peter Larsen

Lake View Terrace, California

thyme

and time again

resetting

the garden

sundial

Rick Jackofsky

Rocky Point, New York

tiny treasures

each moment together

gleaming

in our jeweled

mosaic of time

Rita Melissano

Rock Island, Illinois

grandfather clock gongs

in the living room at midnight

stops short of twelve

I gaze across the river

there is no going back

Roy Kindelberger

Edmonds, Washington

in the half-light

of the hospital ward

I fit in too well

with the grey-faced men

is this my swansong

Simon Wilson

Peterborough, United Kingdom

exhausting days—

am I like

margarine,

spread too thin

across life’s bread

Susan Burch

Hagerstown, Maryland

using alphabets

not ideograms, I write life

into existence . . .

how long will these footprints

remain in the snow of time

Chen-ou Liu

Ajax, Ontario

a pebble

tumbles into rocks

the landslide

forever changes the mountain

I wait for That One Email

Dennis Owen Frohlich

Catawissa, Pennsylvania

skating

on such thin ice

sliding

all too quickly

into another decade

Gerry Jacobson

Canberra, Australia

alone

I pick a star

to wish on

ten thousand miles

and a daylit sky

Jenny Polstra

Waikato, New Zealand

a promise kept

of another sunrise

the sound of a bird

I no longer try

to name

Leon Tefft

Greenville, South Carolina

getting older

brings a quieter joy

your smile

greets songs of currawongs

dawn lights up another day

Margi Abraham

Sydney, Australia

as I wait

for this train to pass

one empty thought

after another

after another

Shawn Blair

Cohoes, New York

like carrying water

in a collander

      with the holes

      getting bigger

time, as I grow older

Susan Weaver

Allentown, Pennsylvania