Tanka for Spring~

(Painting by Jane Kohut-Bartels, watercolor, book “Song of the Nightingale” published by Createspace, Amazon, 2015)

 

Maybe not only for Spring, but with all this pollen outside, it’s hard to breathe, so short forms of poetry fit.  Some of these tanka break the rules, also.  But they can reform.

I see that my computer isn’t forming the text properly, but it’s rather  interesting.  Breaks the mold.

Lady Nyo

 

–The moon floats on wisps Of clouds extending outward. Tendrils of white fire Blanketing the universe Gauzy ghosts of nothingness.

— Come into my arms. Bury under the warm quilt. Your scent makes me drunk Like the wine we gulped last night. Too much lust and drink to think.

—– Give me a moment! To catch my breath and settle. Give me some peace now. Stop kissing my hands, stop it! What if someone is watching?

—- Presence of Autumn Burst of color radiates From Earth-bound anchors Sun grabs prismatic beauty And tosses the spectrum wide!

— Bolts of lightening flash! The sky brightens like the day too soon it darkens. My eyes opened or closed see the futility of love.

— Had I not known life I would have thought it all dreams. Who is to tell truth? It comes at too sharp a price. Better to bear flattery.

– Cranes wheeled in the sky Their chiding cries fell to hard earth Warm mid winter day A pale half moon calls the birds To stroke her face with soft wings.

– Glimpse of a white wrist Feel the pulse of blood beneath- This is seduction! But catch a wry, cunning smile One learns all is artifice.

–

How could I forget The beauty of the pale moon! A face of sorrow Growing thin upon the tide Creates a desperation.

–

Thin, silken breezes Float upon a green-ribbon Of spring—pale season. Scent of lilies, myrtle, plum Arouse bees from slumber.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2012-2016

“The River”…..a poem

 

from website: halfhearted dude…and thank you.

Maybe it’s all this green pollen floating around the air, the fertilizer for nature’s coming bounty. Whatever it is, there is a quickening, a thump in our guts as our thoughts turn to love and sex which is natural as we are also part of this season’s bounty.

Lady Nyo

 

THE RIVER

 

The sun streams in the window

Like a jarring benediction

From a loud-mouthed priest.

 

It falls upon us

As we spoon asleep

Your back turned to me

My nose on your skin

Breathing in the miracle of you.

 

Last night, our first in spent passion,

That particular coin flowed like a river

Between us.

You brought towels

To clean up the waters left by the flood.

 

Bending over me

Parting my thighs with your hands

I wanted you to leave the damp alone

And slide

Into the still wet, faintly pulsing dark chasm

My hollow jerking and twisting at the end of you

 

But instead

I curled up like a fiddle-head fern

And embraced your dark head with my hands

Pulling your mouth to my own 

And we flowed down that river again.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2014