2024 Winners
2024 Sanford Goldstein International Tanka Contest Winners
Reid Hepworth and Vandana Parashar, Judges
This year 198 poets submitted 612 poems from 28 countries: Algeria, Australia, Belgium, Brazil, Canada, China, Croatia, Germany, Greece, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Malaysia, Mexico, New Zealand, Nigeria, Northern Ireland, Peru, Philippines, Poland, Romania, Scotland, Switzerland, Tunisia, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Thank you to judges Reid Hepworth and Vandana Parashar for their time and consideration in making this year’s selections.
—Susan Burch, TSA Contest Coordinator
Judges’ Commentary
It was an honor to serve as judges for this year’s Sanford Goldstein International Tanka Contest. Thank you to the Tanka Society of America, TSA contest coordinator Susan Burch, and all the poets for entrusting us with this role. It was a real privilege and a lot of fun! With more than 600 tanka to choose from, it was both an exhilarating and a challenging process. Over the course of two weeks, both judges read through the submissions multiple times, first to experience them, then again with a critical eye for appealing imagery, flow, and evocativeness. We made notes about specific tanka that sang out to us and then went to the task of narrowing down our individual long lists (30 poems). This was not a small feat as so many incredible poems had to be left behind. The beauty of this process, though, was that certain poems that were initially cut from our individual lists made it into each other’s long list, which permitted us to look at the poems with fresh eyes. We realized early on that, as judges, we shared similar tastes, subjective as taste can be. Our short list (seven tanka) followed the same process, and there was much discussion as to why we chose these seven. The most difficult part of the selection process was deciding which ones merited inclusion in the top three. Each tanka of the top seven is amazing and deserves to be on the podium! Thank you again to everyone who submitted to the contest. It was a pleasure reading your tanka, and while you may not have been chosen this time, it does not in any way reflect the merit of your poem. Judging is a very subjective process. Keep writing and submitting.
—Reid Hepworth and Vandana Parashar
First Place ($100)
just this!
the chickadee
in the pine singing
I am here
I am here
Elizabeth Black
Haymarket, Virginia
This tanka stood out for a number of reasons, the first being its sheer joyfulness. Both the poet and the chickadee, happy in the exchange of song and words. It also has a distinct Sanford Goldstein quality to it, reminiscent of:
no red wheelbarrow
to make
all the difference—
no, but these pines!
these cranes!
Then there is the flow, the musicality of the piece. Read aloud, it is a proclamation. Just this! As in, it doesn’t get any better than this, or this is all I need! The poet, so transfixed by the chickadee’s song that they need nothing else. We don’t know what was happening in the poet’s life as they wrote this, but in line three the mention of pine trees—known for renewal, rebirth and hope—evokes another positive element to this poem. We can imagine the poet and the chickadee rejoicing in spring’s bounty or the simple pleasure of being alive. The song (chick-a-dee-dee-dee), perhaps one of the most recognizable next to the crow’s, can be used in multiple situations (when feeding, when tracking a mate, or when raising alarm). In this instance, the repetitive “I am here / I am here” appears to indicate something good taking place. No matter how many times we read this tanka, it stayed with us, brought a smile to our faces. For this reason, “just this!” placed at the top of our list. Congratulations!
Second Place ($50)
passing by the cemetery
I steal a glance . . .
will these be enough
a pillow of mossy stones
a bed of wildflowers
Sanjuktaa Asopa
Belagavi, India
This tanka is a poignant reflection on mortality, and each line evokes a sense of introspection as the poet contemplates the final resting place. The opening line sets a somber and reflective tone and suggests a moment of physical and symbolic transition. Line two with its ellipsis suggests an unfinished thought or a moment of hesitation, as the poet glances at the cemetery, enabling the reader to fill in the emotional weight of this brief interaction and a subconscious confrontation with the inevitability of death. The third line introduces a question, revealing the poet’s contemplation of what constitutes a sufficient resting place. Our bedroom is the place where we unwind after a day’s hard work, and we make it as comfortable as our means allow. A good night’s sleep is all we crave at the end of the day. The “pillow of mossy stones” juxtaposes the hardness of stone with the softness of moss. Though it evokes a serene image of rest, it also shows the contrast between human constructs and nature. How does one compare memory pillows with stones covered with moss? And though ending with “a bed of wildflowers,” the tanka brings a sense of beauty and renewal, but, when you view the tanka as a whole, you feel the poet’s unwillingness to let go of material comforts. The third line, “will these be enough,” changes the narrative from contemplation to reluctance. To conclude, this tanka captures a moment of deep reflection with beautiful simplicity. It leaves ample space for readers to feel this existential unease that comes with contemplating one’s final resting place.
Third Place ($25)
how does one measure
the length of a night . . .
in a chemo ward
watching each drop swell
before it falls
Teji Sethi
Bangalore, India
For anyone who has experienced trouble sleeping or intrusive/repetitive thoughts at night, the opening of this tanka, framed as a question, is perfectly relatable. Where this tanka really hits the mark, though, is in its masterfully crafted pivot in line three: “in a chemo ward.” We didn’t see that coming and it left us breathless. The enormity of a cancer diagnosis is profound. Even with family and friends surrounding you, the impact at nighttime when you are alone with your thoughts must be harrowing. We are never so alone as we are with our worries. Not to mention the intrusion of noise, bright lights, nursing staff, being poked and prodded with tests, medication, or in this case, watching the slow release of medication as it moves into your body, hoping and praying that it will work. The last three lines emphasize the enormity of the first two lines. How does one measure the length of a night? It is all a matter of perspective really. This moving tanka is expertly crafted. It is lyrical and evocative and leaves readers feeling concerned about the impact of this experience on the poet’s life or on the life of someone significant to them.
Honorable Mentions (not ranked)
an arbutus
sheds its outer bark . . .
my skin
is the only thing
holding me together
Debbie Strange
Winnipeg, Manitoba
This tanka poignantly captures the fragility and resilience of human existence. The shedding of the arbutus tree’s bark mirrors the poet’s own vulnerability and a sense of raw survival, hence suggesting a deep connection with nature.
she asks me
if I’ve ever been in love . . .
of all the questions
parenthood books
don’t prepare you for
Tracy Davidson
Stratford-upon-Avon, United Kingdom
This tanka captures the profound, often unprepared-for conversations that arise with children, revealing the essence of parent–child relationships beyond guidance and protectiveness. It explores the complexities of parenthood through a moment of candid vulnerability.
we fell
late into love
like rain
to parched earth
like stones into water
Margi Abraham
Sydney, Australia
This tanka beautifully illustrates the transformative power of love, emphasizing love’s ability to rejuvenate and create a deep, lasting impact, no matter when it arrives.
a fallow fawn
hidden in the bracken
how can I protect
my daughter
from the world
Farah Ali
Brighton, United Kingdom
This tanka evokes a powerful sense of parental concern. It reflects the universal worry of parents trying to protect their children from the dangers of the world. The two parts of the tanka depict the urge to find a balance between nurturing innocence and facing inevitable realities.