This Tanka was inspired by the beautiful Golden Willow Tree in the botanical gardens in Cambridge which I visit frequently on my lunch hours from work.
I wanted to reach for one of its tempting branches but to do so would to risk falling in the water!
Colleen asks us to email our poem and the following information to tankatuesdaypoetry@gmail.com the “Title of your poem,” #Form used, by “Your Name,” and the https:// address of your post where you published the post on your blog.
Unique Selling Point: Unique, Imaginative, ‘Charming, enchanting and richly layered this is purely delightful.’
“This delightful book will appeal to teens and young adults who love stories filled with magical crystals, dark family curses, and mysteries waiting to be solved around every corner. Each chapter leads you on a journey of discovery where Amelina earns the right to use three wizard stones to reset the balance of time and finally break the curse that holds her family hostage. A captivating tale!” – Colleen M. Chesebro (Editor)
I’m going to have a go at a Shadorma as per the detail on Colleen’s blog:
The Shadorma is a poetic form consisting of a six-line stanza (or sestet). Each stanza has a syllable count of three syllables in the first line, five syllables in the second line, three syllables in the third and fourth lines, seven syllables in the fifth line, and five syllables in the sixth line (3/5/3/3/7/5) for a total of 26 syllables.
When writing a Shadorma I would concentrate on a specific subject. The brevity of syllables is perfect for that kind of structure.
A poem may consist of one stanza or an unlimited number of stanzas (a series of shadormas).
“The Shadorma is a Spanish poetic form made up of a stanza of six lines (sestet) with no set rhyme scheme. It is a syllabic poem with a meter of 3/5/3/3/7/5.
It can have many stanzas, as long as each follows the meter. Little is known about this poetic style’s origins and history but it is used by many modern poets today. This variation of the haiku, which is evident by its syllable pattern, can be seen in use in many writing venues.”
It’s taking me longer than I originally anticipated to complete this final draft but soon it will be ready for one of my final beta readers – my daughter!
Colleen was a huge help with book one and I really appreciate all she has done for me. Here’s her opinion of my first book:
The Curse of Time Book 1 Bloodstone:
“This delightful book will appeal to teens and young adults who love stories filled with magical crystals, dark family curses, and mysteries waiting to be solved around every corner. Each chapter leads you on a journey of discovery where Amelina earns the right to use three wizard stones to reset the balance of time and finally break the curse that holds her family hostage. A captivating tale!” – Colleen M. Chesebro (Editor)
I’m looking for a Christmas venue for our staff party which is proving to be more difficult than I first anticipated. A colleague at work suggested I considered The Cock pub. Anyway, to cut a long story short I called The Cock and checked the size of the venue. We require a big capacity – over fifty guests – and I was informed that the venue was too small. Dead pan, I reported this back to my colleagues with the words: ‘the cock is too small!’
Cue much laughing… Oh my!
Thereafter, not content with the way things were going I googled other possible pubs and discovered a feisty possibility called The Wrestling Cocks. This wasn’t big enough but I was impressed by their passionate pride to their pub! They pointed us in the direction of another venue – the name escapes me – but sadly this didn’t meet my exalted expectations either…
So after much soul searching and a protracted period of titillating I’m now considering a more simple approach. Perhaps a venue with a numeral in the name such as The Three Buttes, or The Eight Ding-Dongs...
ALL PUBS NAMES IN ITALICS HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THEIR PRIVACY!
The pressure’s growing
To find a perfect venue
A decision soon
Be it big, or small in size
Carry on… up the pub dears!
Synonyms: For influence (I used pressure) and perception: (feeling)
It’s nice to welcome Colleen back after her break finding and settling in to her new home in Arizona. I’ve missed writing poetry but I’ve been super busy getting feedback back from my early readers and beta readers on my WIP: The Curse of Time Book 2 Golden Healer.
The synonyms I’ve chosen for beginning are dawn, and for consume – exhausted.
The tulips are from my recent trip to Montreal, Canada – Botanic Gardens. I had a wonderful time there on holiday with my two daughters.
I think cats and Buddha have a lot to teach us so I wrote this double Tanka poem for Colleen’s poetry challenge. Isn’t Lily the cat gorgeous? Just like Shadow the black cat in my book!
I had fun choosing some alternative synonyms for Colleen’s poetry challenge – for Spring I chose Develop, and for Sing – Serenade.
Life Lessons from Buddha:
Buddha Teaches us
To develop good habits
Time to meditate
Ensconced by a sacred tree
While sweet birds serenade you.
The tree I had in mind is the Bodhi Tree which is a sacred fig tree in Bodh Gaya Bihar, India.
I had fun choosing bound for spring, and extol for sing.
Life Lessons from Cats:
Bound about, stay curious,
Extol trying hard,
Do what’s right for you, RELAX….
Live, love, unconditionally.
Be determined, but have FUN,
Cats teach us to be all of these!!!
Be confident, keep on trying, do whats right for you, live in the present moment, remain curious, take time to relax, stay determined, love unconditionally.
Who better to write about than my lovely dad, Ronald?
He has always been my inspiration. I doubt I would ever have become a writer if it hadn’t been for him. Both of my parents are much loved and have had an extraordinary life with many stories to tell. My dad is quite the raconteur! He has been fortunate to have travelled to, and lived in, many exotic countries in his life: Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia (where he met my mum,) Africa, Kiribati, Papua New Guinea, British Virgin Islands, Fiji, Anguilla, Abu Dhabi… etc.
So this is for my dad, who isn’t Russian but learnt Russian as a young man. I find it quite extraordinary that he still remembers how to speak and sing in Russian after all these years. Like his grandfather, who lived a long life (and walked miles when he was ninety,) he has a zest for life which I admire enormously. And the ladies seem to love dad – apparently he received many birthday wishes from the female golfers in his club! Which mum took very good-naturedly… He is so like his grandfather, (who he loved.)
Apparently his grandfather was also a big hit with the ladies too!
Dad,
Is great,
From his birth,
One of a kind,
He likes a challenge,
A dapper gentleman,
Whose impeccable taste shines,
I’d describe him to impress you,
Just like his grandfather before him,
He dazzles all those he meets with his charm.
From the beginning
He was so adventurous,
Now ninety he sings,
Russian songs to our waitress,
For the record – he’s handsome!
I hope you enjoyed my tanka and etheree. Do join in with Colleen’s poetry challenge.
I had a strange feeling that something wasn’t quite right, I couldn’t begin to explain it but I sensed it. The sky hid behind a dark unapproachable veil of deceit. All the clouds had lost their cheerful fluffiness flattening like a pack of shuffled playing cards. A storm battered the sky as loud claps of thunder and heavy raindrops fell.
Half an hour after the storm, Ryder arrived, drenched through.
On the way to mine, he’d obviously been caught in a thunderstorm. I reckon the sky had clouded over about the time he had ventured out and within seconds a very heavy downpour had started. Not satisfied with rain alone loud claps of thunder had followed. The lightning could have hit him but must have opted to barely miss him by inches. When he arrived his clothes were soaked through and his carefully maintained hair was flattened against his head by the force of the rain. Water dripped from his hair and clothing into a growing puddle on the floor to form a strange shadow, a dark jigsaw shape at his feet, which appeared to move with his body. I stepped back retreating from the threat of whatever this might be.
His usually arresting eyes were reduced to dark stagnant, pools.
He carried a bouquet of sad, tortured lilies. He handed them to me as a peace-offering. Their white flower heads were dripping and sodden.
The wet cuckoo from the play, that’s what I thought Ryder looked like! Could this be a warning, and if it was, would Ryder pay any attention? Somehow I doubted that he would.
‘These are in a bad shape,’ I said, a reluctant response escaping my lips. I longed to slam the door in his face but instead I held the thunder in my heart for later.
I let him in.
‘I’m not feeling too hot myself,’ he replied, that tiny detail was true.
I noticed Shadow watching him with interest, as if he was stalking a drowned shadow bird with weakened defences. Shadow’s whiskers pressed inwards, compressing in thought. He steeled himself, ready to pounce. Ryder saw the challenge, glared at him and uttered this inhuman, strangled noise. Shadow notched up the battle vibe with a ear-piercing hiss.
‘Stop that caterwauling,’ I yelled.
They heard my angry yell and backed off, but both of them were still blazing with an equally matched fury.
Jade heard the rumpus and appeared in a flash, eager to fuss over Ryder.
‘Are you okay?’
On cue he shivered. Shadow stood there trembling.
She asked for a towel and wrapped him in it as if she hoped to cocoon him from the elements. Shadow’s expression suggested that he would have liked the same treatment. Ignoring Shadow’s trembling she asked me for some clothes for Ryder to change into. Ryder disappeared into the bathroom to get changed. Shortly afterwards he came out looking like a new improved version of his usual charismatic self. Ugh, how irritating, somehow he managed to be even more handsome than usual, even though he was wearing unflattering, ill-fitting old clothes. It must have been the sleek, wet look of his hair.
This wasn’t good. Jade slipped her arm through his and they wandered off to snuggle up on the sofa. Before long he was warmed by her attentions and sprang back to life. He gave me a challenging look. I returned it. In no time at all they were locked in a lingering kiss. I didn’t know where to look. I wondered if he tasted like fag ash. Not because he smoked – no he didn’t need to. From my experience he tasted sour with no effort.
Here’s a short, unedited passage from the second book in the series The Curse of Time – Golden Healer which I’m currently working on. It fits in well with Colleen’s two synonyms this week – mystery and attract.
For mystery I’m using enigma and for attract I’d decided upon beguiling. Enjoy!
Too Tasty To Ignore!
A pleasing parcel,
Wrapped in black jeans, tight tee-shirt,
Enigma to solve,
Beguiling but dangerous,
Was I a fool to trust him?
How could I explain this? Had Ryder fooled me? The strange, charismatic young man who appeared to come to my rescue on the river pathway when I’d first met him. Could he be responsible for the Bloodstone’s disappearance? I doubted that he would taint his hands with such an act. Instead, I wondered whether he might have used an accomplice. His recent behaviour painted a new picture of him — one that showed his true identity — a nasty, vindictive portrait.
Had I been foolish to trust him? What kind of person was he? And what secrets lay hidden in his heart?
I pondered how I would react if he came through the front door. For a moment, I imagined him entering. He’d be dressed in his signature black tee-shirt peeled tight across his ripped chest. His buttoned jeans would scream touch me. His black hair and eyebrows would be immaculately trimmed highlighting his eyes that would make you pause and gasp in surprise. Perhaps, I’d stare at his sensual blue eye while his black eye would blaze back at me like a dark alleyway full of dangerous excitement.
His expression would alter as soon as he approached. He’d raise an eyebrow as if he registered a sudden change in the environment.
He’d say something innocuous like. ‘Have your mum and dad been decorating? It’s very bright. The sad old place looks like it has had a new lease of life. Even the mirrors look different. Like they’re missing something.’
After all that you might need a piece of cake… to wash down the sour taste of what Ryder may become… Ahh villains are so fun to write!
Here’s an extra bit of poetry just for fun. A lovely cake from Harriet’s tea rooms in Cambridge. It was almost too good to eat. It reminded me of Ryder, he is so mesmerisingly handsome that he makes your mouth water. Enjoy!
