“A Tanka Trio (11)” published at Gobblers by Masticadores

On By Mike U.In Poetry

Hi, friends. The eleventh installment of my tanka series titled “A Tanka Trio (11)” is now live at Gobblers by Masticadores. Each of these installments contains three tanka (be sure to click this link or the link below to read all of them). Many kind thanks to Editor Manuela Timofte for publishing these tanka. Very much appreciated, Manuela.

“A Tanka Trio (11)”
©2022 by Michael L. Utley

(#31)

my exhausted faith
flows just as the drift ice flows
breaks and melts away
heaven’s reflection blurring
in the sea’s saltwater tears

….

(#32)

I catch the water
dripping from the icicles
in a mason jar
as a gentle reminder
that I do not weep alone

You can read the rest of this tanka installment here:

A Tanka Trio (11)

Also, don’t forget to follow and subscribe to Gobblers by Masticadores, where you’ll find some wonderful writing and plenty of food for thought.

31 thoughts on ““A Tanka Trio (11)” published at Gobblers by Masticadores”

  10. Mike, these are so filled with emotion, that it is hard for me to read them and not weep. I love both of the tankas on this page and am excited to read the post of Gobblers. I use to cry and talk to myself in the mirror when I was very little. Somehow it gave me comfort. The second tanka made me think of those many times. Beautifully written my friend. Big hugs, Joni

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    1. Hi, Joni. I didn’t see your comment earlier. Thanks as always for your kind words. I can almost picture little Joni talking to her reflection in the mirror. I’m so glad you found comfort in such a way. My way of finding comfort as a kid usually meant throwing baseballs at the shed in the back yard to burn off all the anger and fear. I recall my mom’s canning jars in the basement, many full of fruits, veggies and meats, and many empty. She loved canning stuff from the garden. So, those memories played a part in #32. 😊

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  12. Your words move with such quiet grace, my friend. Each verse holds a tender melancholy — faith melting, tears blending with the sea, and yet, a subtle reminder of shared humanity in those “mason jar” tears. The final image of the moon painting snow angels is pure magic — so serene, so hauntingly beautiful. There’s deep wisdom in how you capture both the fragility and resilience of the human spirit through nature’s mirror. Truly breathtaking poetry — it lingers long after reading.

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    1. You’re so generous, Saima. It’s been a long while since I’ve been able to write tanka (or haiku and senryu). The distillation of emotion into tiny morsels is something that really appeals to me. These three in particular represent little pieces of my heart and soul. They’re connected deeply to some old memories and an emptiness I feel as so many profound questions remain unanswered and unanswerable. The first two are quite sorrowful, but the last one surprised me. I’m not a winter person by any stretch of the imagination, but I clearly recall looking out my bedroom window as a farm boy and seeing the full moon illuminating the midnight woods and fields, and feeling a stirring in my young soul that I couldn’t articulate. So much occurs unseen in our world, and the only way we can experience it is through our imaginations. That winter moon is always there, and her artistry–secretive and sublime–still resonates with me.

      I’m glad you enjoyed these little ones, dear friend. I like ’em, too. 😊🌛❄️

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      1. Thank you for sharing the story behind these pieces, Mike — it adds such a tender depth to them. It’s beautiful how you’re able to distill entire worlds of emotion into such small forms; not everyone can carry both sorrow and wonder so delicately in a few lines.

        Those memories you described — the unanswered questions, the quiet ache of the past, and then that unexpected moment of winter beauty — they all seem to live inside your poems. I could feel that hush of the moonlit fields as you described it, that young sense of awe that lingers long after the moment has passed. It’s no surprise that the last tanka carries such a luminous softness; it clearly comes from a place that still glows within you, my friend.

        Your openness, your imagery, your honesty — all of it makes your writing resonate in such a profound way. I’m truly grateful you shared these little heart-morsels, dear friend. I enjoyed them deeply. 😊🌛❄️

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