Tuesday, January 26, 2021

A Room of My Own: The River of Time Tanka

On or around January 2021, American character changed -- paraphrasing Virginia Woolf

circular ripples
reaching the shore ...
with rocks of words
in my overcoat pockets
I step into the river of time

Occasionally true FYI: Inspired by Virginia Woolf's Ghost , today's tanka marks the (symbolic) death of this Trumpholic poet.

Added: to the low-functioning Trumpholic

another night
without Trump tweet bombs
tick of the clock ...

Added: One Hundred Seventy-First Entry, Coronavirus Poetry Diary

Overdose Death
on the covers of black coffins ...
row upon row
of masked young men and women
in a memorial march

Added: One Hundred Seventy-Second Entry

the wail of sirens
slicing through this winter night
100 M ...

1 comment:

  1. The One Hundred Seventy-First Entry, Coronavirus Poetry Diary, could be read as a prequel to my tanka prose below:

    "Silent Epidemic"

    “312 people died of suspected opioid overdoses last month, more than the total number of people in the province who have lost their lives to the coronavirus.” The reporters turn to each other, not a word uttered. A silence envelops the conference room for a while.

    “I cannot express how shocking this news has been to hear,” says the province’s top doctor at the briefing, fighting to hold back her tears. “The overdose crisis is rooted in pain. Stigma, shame and fear or distrust of authorities have prevented drug users from seeking help. Most of them died in the shadow of a back alley or behind the dumpster.”

    The doctor’s concluding remark unsettles in the darkest corners of my mind. I put the TV on mute and grow restless.

    a baby
    in the crook of her arm …
    she writes we miss you
    inside a purple heart
    on the memorial walk

    Drifting Sands, 4, October 2020

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