Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works
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Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
1.
Eskimos have many words
for snow—
falling from my lips
many words for electricity.
Places dictate vocabulary.
2.
my zazen was writing
pencil in hand—
sitting still for moments
no special breathing
just moving my hand
3.
The Supreme Being thing
a theological dream
compared to Billions of Things—
Taking a bite of reality
spitting out the seeds.
4.
Bitten by Sadness
My great nephew,
Joshua Loya his name,
a troubled, sick, tired man;
We tried to help him and failed.
A soul free of conventionality.
He was a homeboy styler
a skinny fellow
dressed in
baggy pants.
Hanging out with cholos
for a fine machismo time.
His mom died when he was 10
he never recovered!
From auto accidents and hepatitis
and fun drug usage most days;
he slowly slipped from us away.
He lived with us for a year
a lazy fellow
straight F's in high school,
some thieves and stoners for friends.
Still, we wished him well to the end.
My son and we tried to help
Joshua when down
and others did contribute,
to bring him better around
but his failures ground him down.
He phoned every so often
babbling and rude
wandering in a broken brain;
His long letters, indecipherable,
but with artistic displays.
He lived in County jails
for petty crimes
and old half-way houses
time after time after time.
In garages of friends sometimes.
He called Aunt Blanchee.
He was homeless again
hoping for help from friends.
Sadly, he was sick again.
He wished her well at the end.
Today,
the police said,
Josh was shot dead!
They found his slumped body
on bloody asphalt
in a City of Industry
vacant parking lot.
Bullets through his broken heart!
5.
The silence of decades dead
echo endlessly
in every muscle and vein;
Her kisses are remembered
by my tender love lips.
6.
One Picture of Me
This bony skull of mine
electrified
pictured onscreen for me.
Doctor recommends
some oral surgery.
The brain disappeared,
an empty space
sliced from
X Ray images retraced.
Eyeless in inner space.
Monkey nose holes,
bony eye glasses,
teeth glowing in the dark.
Inner spaces never seen
underneath my very being.
Skinless, noseless, earless,
a shape, a form—
the images informed.
Stripping away the unneeded,
revealing my inner core.
7.
Wet pier boards
clomped under our boots
docked boats shined
we forgot what we left behind
fishing consumed our minds.
[I have a propensity for using rhymes,
capitalization, and punctuation. Therefore,
I am outside the norm for Tanka.
Readers are forewarned!]
8.
Emily D. said she Knew Poetry
when her sober head top
was suddenly taken off.
Wow! Complex tight Poetry
from the Topless Emily D.
[Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
American poet.]
9.
Laugh at the dying of the Light
Embrace the Uncertain Night
Useless to Rage and Rage
Boozing your guts away
Rather Face the Fucking Day.
[Dylan Thomas (1914-1953),
Irish poet and author.]
10.
Hegel touted secular spirituality
Carlyle cheered rising unbelief
Neo-Pagan myths and rites appeared
Christian motifs shook and swayed
Later, Buddhists answered with the
No Mind Way.
[Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881),
author, historian, essayist, poet;
Sartor Resartus.]
11.
The Dalai Lama opened the door
making Love, Helpfulness, Decency
the Essence of the Religious Core;
Not beliefs, not creeds, not lore
not arguments; show Kindness.
[(Dalai Lama (1935-)
author, Tibetan Buddhist
leader,
world renowned spiritual guide.]
12.
my tired eyes
closed—
memories slowed
dreams flowed
time dozed
13.
Eight Billion humans growing wilder
a Christened Cancer
impending suicidal
millions more on the Edges
crawling to the gallows end
14.
The Wind swept East away
West was cleared of Gray
The Sun split Skies to Blue
Bright gleaming green Yews
Hard Cold! Smell of Firs...
15.
Pruning bonsai with keen eyes
carefully cutting
for structure and size;
Visions in the artist's mind
Coaxing beauty by his design.
16.
The day dribbled to buzzer's end
but ties are forbidden
so overtime dramas begin;
Or, just drop lose or win
Letting wu wei begin.
17.
The desire to smoke cannabis
in my deep blood brain
soaked from habits
unrestrained;
the urges slowly leave in weeks
but guilt still leaves a scar.
18.
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
are not enough
for a Spiritual Family.
Where are Mother, Daughter,
and Legions of Wee Folk?
19.
Rain ing IMAGES roll
a r o u n d on the Words
NOthing Special:
Listening to lectures.
Picturing the Page.
20.
My vein is the literal
not the symbolic,
fantastic, abstract, free;
Lost in meaninglessness,
too clever for me.
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
21.
Woman: making dinner stew
Man: working hard
Children: playing games in yard
Family: growing older further
Life: Uncertain At Large
22.
I ran the mile in track
sweated and struggled
often finished dead last;
Cantwell High School track
still in my legs today.
23.
Jetty stones, rocky levees,
embrace the River
Columbia to the Sea;
Seagulls and noisy geese
shit on the dirt levees.
24.
"What do you Love?" he asked
"Waking up today!"
she said with gusto keen.
Gave herself an insulin
shot,
nursed her sugary wounds.
25. Old Age
Being 79 is fine
but still running out of time;
so I cope lest
I read less and slower
or think past nowhere.
Reaching 80 soon
four good seasons slowly loom
passing quietly too;
"Don't waste one minute now"
Diamonds can't buy any time.
26.
December fogs—
among the rotting brown leaves
a squashed dead frog;
Winter is a Brutal King
freezing beings one by one.
27.
We pulled up a crab cage
from the old Toke dock
filled with five small crabs;
no keepers in this fifth pull,
a stingy bay here today.
28.
The School buses loading
stop and go.
Red stop lights flashing,
yellow caution lights blinking slow.
I stop, wait, and watch the show.
29.
I meditated often
hour by hour—
watching tiny juncos
listening to firs swaying
waiting at Nothing's Door.
30.
Climbing in the rain
up a sand dune slope
in quiet Nehalem Bay
reaching the Top
of Beauty at the Sea.
31.
my dog, Bruno, lifted my spirits
living with me
We were Buddies, Dog and man.
Bruno got cancer and He died,
i walked alone and i cried.
32.
At dusk the winds picked up
shaking the tent,
snow fell from dark cold skies;
we bundled up warm inside
and played chess passing time.
33.
I will be gone someday
never returning
to walk or play.
Signed my Last Will to say
my possessions are given away.
Coming in
let me nourish
like rain on a garden.
Going out
let me disappear
like geese going south.
34.
Asking myself "Why?"
Which software to master?
What better poems to write?
Why Not! Is a good answer.
As long as there's time.
35.
Lamenting his obscure lines,
lack of specificity—
feeling stupid, locked out;
can't fault the reader,
the poet is a mediocre mouse.
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
36.
I turned right onto old
Highway 101
headed south to Olympia.
Sashaying along the Hood Canal
Oysters at every curve.
37.
crawling under the house
sewer pipe broke
puddles of stinking crap...
fixing, reconnecting, glued;
spreading sand on the smell.
38.
Longing
for learning
to make others
surprised
by my words
Trying
to find
the perfect rhyme
and symbolic metaphors
offered in lines
Seeking
the insightful words
and clarity;
that is the goal
ahead for me.
39.
1234567
12345
1234567
1234567
1234567
7-5-7-7-7
7 5 4 1 2 5 7 3
5 7 6 5 3 7 7 3
7 5 4 5 6 7 5 7
7 7 5 5 6 7 7 5
7 7 5 5 6 7 5 7
[Explain]
fenced in by five lines,
boxed in by seven sounds—
still, meaning flows out
a fixed playing field for words,
a frame for our honest doubts.
40.
About the Greeks and Chinese
I eagerly read
their writings from 550 BCE;
nothing interesting for me in
the falling walls of Jericho.
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
41.
Blinded by the obvious
he often forgot
to sink heavy anchors;
ideas swaying to songs
floating aimlessly along.
42.
Little boats float down
the Cowlitz River
scooping up Eulachon smelt.
Oily slimy skinny fishlets
flopping wildly into nets.
43.
Roethke in Seattle
Uplifted and impressed
reading Roethke's
Northwest sketches fine.
Birds flew off the page.
Lizards sunned in his lines.
U-Dub students studied
Roethke's methods
for years closely aligned
walking together the Far Fields
with many creative minds.
Roethke's soaked in hot tubs
his sweat refined
lulled into organic bliss—
laughing in the fog
languishing like a dog.
He lingered by the rivers
topping Puget Sound
listening to beauty;
stepping into forests
around Seattle Town.
[Theodore Roethke (1908-1963)
poet, teacher.]
44.
Leafless Trees of February
February sculptures
of leafless trees—
emptiness on display.
Gray-brown branches and twigs
embraced in Winter's Arms.
fog crawled into branches
of leafless trees—
invisible leaves.
A sweet gum murmured low
a soft lullaby to the snow.
The trunks and branches
of shrubs and trees—
unabashed exhibitionists.
Buff nude bodies exposed,
careless, free, willingly.
Morning opened in sunshine
brilliant crisp blue.
Twisted branches knew
Spring is coming soon.
Leafing, leaves, renewed.
45.
reading e.e.'s poems
in the campus shade
students walking by silently
somewhere in a library
hangs another painting by e.e.
[e.e.cummings (1894-1962),
American painter, author, poet.]
46.
Tried to build my Muscles
of Intentions
to strengthen my Will;
tear the muscles a little
if you want to build.
47.
Planted a climbing rose
to tie to a fence—
optimistic gardeners
endlessly puttering
sworn to thinking ahead.
48.
His walker wobbled looser
the sick man fell—
cancer is serious hell.
I helped him stand and walk,
thinking of myself in his lot.
49.
Hiding in the Junipers
Three ladybugs sit so
cozy together—
the junipers don't really care
who sits here or who sits there
just clean the mites off their hairs.
Shiny orange shimmering shells
black etched eyes—
crawling silently
hiding from enemies
ladybugs jump and fly
Ladybugs by another crisp name
Coccinella novemnotata—
five thousand species of Coccinella
mostly farmer's friends
who live just two short years.
Ladybugs can't all be Ladies—
otherwise
there would be fewer surprises
sans some randy
Guybug's pickup lines
50.
Drifting to My Mind's Edge
The drifting pebbles
slid on the sandy shore
up to me;
my thoughts drifted
outside my mind.
Boy's flying stunt kites
in flying dives and figure 8's
wind at their backs;
our sand castle
remodeled by in-coming waves.
Hot sun and sand burnt
bare fee walking
away from the sea;
grabbing my shoes
touching my toes tenderly.
Black mussels cling to stones
eating in high tide zones
hundreds huddling;
I stumbled hungry
in surf up to my knees.
Only beach grasses
uncontrollable
can live on the dunes;
my thoughts zoomed
hypo-mania loomed.
51.
Raking up fallen limbs
scattered randomly—
my back ached
bending down
no stopping now
52.
robins chatter
jubilantly—
sounds of love
sounds of hope
I imagine I hear
53.
The soccer pitch
slick from dew—
players wore cleated shoes
but they knew
falling hard could be bad news
54.
"Eternity in an hour"
billions born from a dime
kilowatts from nuclear power
millions of sperm working overtime—
blows my mind
55.
Tired but not sleeping
awake—
stretched out on the floor
wearing worries weighing me down
into the depths of Insomnia's Sea.
56.
Time waits patiently for all.
Tiger hiding
in a blind, eying Us—
Our clocks tick-tocked,
The Tiger of Death Leapt.
57.
Green olives stuffed with garlic
tasted fine
blended with fresh French bread—
we watched the boats in the river
while slowly sipping fine Pinot Noir.
58.
they bashed in her windows
with a bat:
vandals chose her car
for no reason whatsoever
but delight in destruction
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
59.
She played the Dominatrix
in bdsm sex games
for fun—
he knelt naked before Her
She slapped him some.
60.
wasting away
cancer's curse—
can't stand now
wobbly legs
pain cried today
61.
liminal spheres
between selves—
opening up
closing habits
designing oneself
62.
Arts of Colored Lights
Paso Robles nights—
"A Sensorio Field of Lights"
filling the dark with colored lights
mazes of colors subtle
dazzled by a flipped switch.
Shore Acres Park
Christmas art—
garden lights
flashing empty flower beds
dispelling darker thoughts
Monterey's hip shops
decorated—
Santa Claus is back
colored bulbs bright
gifts galore in sight
Cape Kiwanda dunes
July 4th—
fireworks flared
colors galore
my eyeballs gorged
Skagit Valley tulips
springtime blooms—
tourists flock
like bees to flowers
sweet treats for hours.
63.
Larger than the longest
short by seconds—
can't measure Infinity
slipped into a Black Hole
the speed of light is too slow.
64.
Befuddled by
a poet's words—
repeating rereads
increased the blur.
No pearl in the oyster.
65.
Titled head
floppy arm—
longstanding guards
in fields and farms;
scarecrow alarmed.
66.
Rising expectations undercut
friendships faltering;
disagreed to agree
end clearly seen
no future for you and me.
67.
Turned Off the TV
empty screen;
lost time remained
stuck in my brain
wasted days, hours decayed.
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
68.
Father Priest once
counseled me—
while on my knees
in the dim confessional box.
Stopped kneeling for sanity!
69.
Is Mu Dark Matter?
Is Light Speed Time?
Is Gravity a Ball of Strings?
Is a Mind a Body-Brain?
Questioning, wondering, ideas rain.
70.
The oak tree in the courtyard
sheltered many a thought.
Better than hissing "Mu";
Nothingness shouted.
Profound silences of Emptiness.
71.
Opened the Gateless Gate,
creaking hinges sang,
a narrow passage opened;
saw a iron Temple Bell
rarely ever rung.
72.
A quatrain with
an extra line
is not a Tanka;
rather 3+2 brief lines,
without the rhyme.
73.
another life on paper
words aligned;
crossing metaphors
images sketched so fine,
tidbits spilling onto lines
74.
Father Priest
scolded me:
hell was my destiny
unless I Believed.
How incorrect was he?
75.
Hammering roofers
step gingerly ...
dusty boots
slippery slant—
Two stories to the ground.
76.
blood pressure
higher...
cuff around hand
sitting taller—
fearing the measure
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
77.
Listening to Jazz
Dave Brubeck Quartet—
Carnegie Hall
Blue Rondo a la Turk,
Take Five with four guys.
78.
washer spinning dry:
pants and shirts
socks and skirts—
electricity at work
chores not shirked
79.
"Not a second to waste"
was a lie—
workaholics disagreed
trapped by a pernicious OCD.
Mystics use seconds otherwise.
80.
fewer painful
confessionals to share—
secretive
closed
unpacked dirty underwear
81.
Crawling on my knees:
pulling weeds
planting bulbs
pruning stems...
Wives like such deeds!
82.
The tangled hair of Akiko,
the sad toys of Takuboku,
the penny world of Sanford—
fine Japanese poets succeed
sowing clever seeds of imagery.
83.
my young son visits us
for a few weeks—
boxes of medicines
pilled high
failed kidney dialysis time
84.
Father Priest
and I
standing seriously at
my dying father's bedside.
Last Rites Sacrament time!
85.
David Attenborough's words
Al Gore's lines
we did not listen—
plasticizing our dying world
denying Ozone Holes in the sky.
86.
Homophobes and racists
sadly multiply—
underlying hostilities,
inner repulsions unjustified.
Wasted energies and lies.
87.
Covered in clothes and throws,
Coldest night in February.
Shivering in Shore Acres,
a canvas yurt in which to hide.
Bitter cold seldom lies.
88.
First time talking to psychologist
[revealing some .. hiding some]
seeking something not known;
but optimistic nonetheless
I won't regress from being my best.
89.
"When does God sleep?"
asked the child;
Jesus answered
with a smile:
"Nunca oí a Dios roncar."
90.
The Zen archer's bow becomes
One with the Universe.
Despite aiming carefully,
breathing properly,
he missed the target anyway.
91.
She held Her whip in hand,
gave Her Commands—
He bowed and obeyed
like a horny toady slave.
Playing Top-bottom bdsm games.
92.
The bloodless sea—
painted red tides
gathered triple toxins
spewed wavy purple streaks
on bays and beaches we see
The bloodless sea—
picturing crashing white waves
bulldozing the thick brown sand
reshaping the shorelines destiny
relentlessly, impulsively, creatively
The blodless sea—
written about by poets for centuries
rudely calling my bluff
challenging me aggressively
pushing me past my petty me
93.
Walking
sand in my shoes
beachcomber blues.
Low tide flotsam line
shattered clam shells my Finds.
94.
Spiritually, the skeptic in me,
Is not very religious, conventionally;
But the ebullience of nature mystics
Are often very inspiring to me.
Silence, poetry,
and music
are Forms of Spirituality.
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
A List of Productive Authors
Merrill Moore (1903-1957) wrote
50,000 Sonnets.
Akiko Yosano (1878-1942) wrote
40,00 Tanka Poems.
William Stafford (1914-1993) wrote
22,000 free verse poems.
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) wrote
1,776 compact poems.
E.E.Cummings (1894-1962) collected
poems run 1,168 pages.
Shakespeare (1564-1616) wrote
154 Sonnets.
Thomas Cleary (1949-2021) translated over
70 Taoist, Buddhist, Zen, and
Confucian texts.
25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works
Poetry Research by Mike Garofalo
At the Edges of the West, Volume 2
Highway 99 and Interstate 5
At the Edges of the West, Volume 1
Highway 101 and Hwy 1
Tanka Poetry Research
English Language Tanka Poems
By Mike Garofalo
Research, Studies, Notes
Bibliography, Links, Docs
19 to 33 sounds/syllables/On
5 lines for modern Tanka: 7-5-7-7-7
Modern Japanese Tanka poems: 5 lines, 31 sounds.
Naomi Wakan defines the Tanka line length pattern as:
Long, short, Long, Long, Long
I have read Tanka in a: Short, Long, Short, Long, Long; and other variations. Minimalist haiku might go down to 19 sound.
Of course, if clear intent and meaning can be conveyed with fewer words - Bravo!
The 7-5-7 pattern is the norm for Japanese Haiku. I have also seen 5-7-5 patterns for haiku, and many other variations. Haiku are normally just 3 lines.
Most Tanka poems I have read are left untitled. Occasionally, longer sequences of Tanka on a particular theme might be titled.
Most American Tanka poems I have read are unrhymed free verse, and sometimes patterned 7-5-7-7-7 Tanka style. All, use only 5 lines.
I have a propensity for using rhymes, capitalization, and punctuation. Therefore, I am a bit outside the norm for Tanka. Readers are forewarned! Normally, I read Tanka that are unrhymed quintains, no capitalization except for proper nouns, little punctuation, and 19 sounds or less; sometimes called minimalist Tanka.
There is a great structural variety in English language Tanka poems. Many are quite brief and not in 57577. They might look like 23255 or 13344 or 32177, etc. Also, syllable counting in the Japanese language for Tanka or Haiku is somewhat easier than in the English language. I believe, for another case, that the Italian language sounds favored the birth of rhymed sonnets.
Pivot Line, Volta, Twist, Turn, Shifting the Focus
In a Tanka Poem
“The pivot line means one thing as a finish to the first couple of lines and something else as a herald to the last two lines.” - Naomi Wakan, p. 36
The third line in a five-line Tanka poem.
Voltas or pivot lines are also used in Sonnets to shift the focus.
The Pivot Line might Shift or Pivot the Focus:
Pivot from the general to the more specific, or vice versa
Switch from the impersonal to the personal, or vice versa
Change from one time to another, e.g., past to future,
past to present, etc.
Pivot from abstract to concrete, or vice versa
Shift from a limited to a more extended view of a thought
Change from a word choice to a pun or homonym for contrast
Move from one thought to a contrasting or contradictory thought
Vault from one emotion to a related emotion
Pivot from one idea to an associated or related idea
Contrast a physical thing image to a related concept or idea
Switch from a clear image or idea to unrelated arbitrary ideas
Pivot from nonsense into more nonsense
Shift from obscurity to clarity, or vice versa
Change from free verse to rhymed verse, or vice versa
Move from many nouns to some verbs, or vice versa
Shift from the historical to the ahistorical, or vice versa
Detour from the everyday to the universal, or vice versa
Pivot from the spare direct immediate Haiku
mind to Tanka complexities
Change from one religious perspective to another
Move from technological to pastoral, pagan, earthy
Change from no punctuation to using punctuation
Shift from secular to Buddhist or Taoist thinking
Detour from the non-human to human emotions and feelings
Pivot from satisfied to dissatisfied or unhappy, or vice versa
Switch from one simile or metaphor to a related one
From facts to feelings and emotions, or vice versa
From emotions related to love or those of hate, or vice versa
From life to death, elegies, or vice versa
From the workday ordinary to celebrations, or vice versa
From Death day and ending poems to birth and beginnings
From a woman's interaction with a man, or vice versa
From minority views to majority views, or vice versa
As for my Personal Tanka Style of writing and
webpage publishing: here are my aims,
personal preferences
or tendencies:
I frequently use rhyme, alliteration, assonance.
I often use more punctuation: — ; . ! : () [] & * " '
I often use indentation and spaces for typographical variety.
I try to use Pivot Points (lines 3 & 5) effectively for
for impact, kicks, abruptness, contrasts, changes, etc.
My lines are often longer/fatter than other Tanka.
I sometimes try to use 7577 English syllable counts.
I realize that my Tanka are somewhat outside the Norm.
I find that using a photograph with a poem
is effective.
I mostly write in a notebook with a pencil.
I try to learn by reading the best Tanka writers.
Clearly, I imitate some of the best already in print.
All my poetry webpages after 2025, must be CSS
formatted, and must be easily viewed on a
typical cellphone.
I connect to my various related webpages with Links.
I am a beginner Tanka writer in 2025. I read lots of Tanka poems. I am learning from those who have written noted Tanka poems and have written usefully about this form of poetry. I plan to study, work, and make some progress in understanding Tanka. I must be patient with myself. I intend to enjoy the creative playing with words and ideas. I have considerable experience with both writing, reading, and studying Haiku since 1995.
Bibliography, Links, References,
Webpages, Essays, Magazines
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems By Michael Peter Garofalo. A rather unconventional Tanka style by this author: considerable use of punctuation and indentation, frequent rhymes, capitalization, senryu and haiku in unexpected places, and typographical variety. Often contemporary and Northwest USA themes. Some minimalist Tanka included. Webpage from 2025.
Dance to the World: Tanka Society of America, Twentieth Anniversary Anthology. Edited by Michael Dylan Welch. 2020, 108 pages.
Four Decades on My Tanka Road: The Tanka Collections of Sanford Goldstein. By Sanford Goldstein. Edited by Fran M. Witham. Preface by Patricia Prime. Winfred Press, 327 pages, Second Edition, 2012. Selections from 6 of Professor Goldstein's books: This Tanka World, 1977; Gaijin Aesthetics, 1983; At the Hut of the Small Mind, 1992; Records of a Well-Polished Satchel, 1995; This Tanka World, 2001; and, Encounters in this Penny World, 2005. Includes a selective bibliography, and a biography of Professor Goldstein. Some introductory notes. Over 500 Tanka in this attractive anthology. Good paper and clear crisp print. $22, Paperback. VSCL. Professor Sanford Goldstein (1925-2023) is often called the "The Grandfather of English Tanka." These Tanka are nearly all in lower case, using only a comma or dash for punctuation, 5 concise lines, mostly free verse style. He includes more gritty, earthy, and intimate aspects of living. These poems reflect many of his experiences while living in Japan for decades. Sometimes, the stark brevity of the Tanka style can lead one to the edge of insight, but they are often too thin to hold up the pants of a deeper understanding. I reviewed this book for Amazon.
The Five Hole Flute: Modern English Tanka in Sequences and Sets. Edited by Michael McClintock and Denis M. Garrison. Modern English Tanka Press, 2006. Out of Print.
Graceguts Website: Michael Dylan Welch
Last Mile on the Tanka Road. By Sanford Goldstein. 2023, 140 pages. It was reported that Sanford Goldstein wrote 10-20 Tanka every day. Amazon offers a number of books by this author. Professor Goldstein was a distinguished translator, anthologist, critic, and well known Tanka poet. He passed away in 2023 in Japan at the age of 98. Some people call him "the Father of English language Tanka."
Mad in Translation: A Thousand Years of Kyoka. By Robin D. Gill. Paraverse Press, 740 pages, 2009. Humorous, witty, naughty, earthy, sexual, bawdy.
McClintock, Michael Winston (1950-): Website, Hyper Texts, Anthology, AYSO Flash.
Modern Japanese Tanka. Edited by Makoto Ueda. Columbia University Press, 1996, 288 pages.
A rather expensive $115.00 rare book.
River of Stars: Selected Poems of Yosano Akiko. By Yosan Akiko (1873-1942). Translations and editing by Sam Hamill. 1997, 160 pages. 91 Tanka and numerous longer poems.
Stacking Stones: An Anthology of Short Tanka Sequences. Edited by M. Kei. 2018, 204 pages.
Sunflower Tanka: An Anthology of Tanka, Tanka Prose, and Experimental Tanka. Colleen M. Chesebro and Robbie Cheadle Editor. 2024, 126 pages.
Take Five: Best Contemporary Tanka, Volume 4. Edited by M. Kei. 2012, 264 pages.
The Tanka Anthology. Edited by Michael McClintock, Pamela Miller Ness, and Jim Kacian. 2023, 240 pages. Here is my Amazon review: "800 of the best tanka in English by 69 of its finest practitioners. This is an outstanding collection of Tanka poems in the English language. Easy to hold in one's hands, light, compact, good quality print and paper. Very good choices by the highly qualified editors. Most Tanka are in the minimalist style: lowercase, no punctuation, 5 lines. For a paperback, a bit expensive at $34, but worth the higher price. Includes biographies of the authors. No introduction. Good enough for many rereads!"
Tanka Poetry: A Home for Traditional Tanka
Tanka Poetry Books at Barnes and Noble
This Short Life: Mimimalist Haiku. By Sanford Goldstein (1925-2023). 164 pages, 2014.
The Way of Tanka. By Naomi Beth Wakan. Shantee Arts LLC, 2017,
146 pages. $15.00. VSCL. Here is my Amazon review: "Tanka are brief 5 line poems, typically using 19-33 sound units, uncapitalized, with little punctuation. This is a good brief introduction and guide to the reading and writing of Tanka style poetry. Many fine Tanka are included and briefly analyzed. She provides a few insights into the proper construction of the Pivot Point, Turning Point, the Volta, the Twist, usually in the 3rd line. (I have added more comments on the Pivot Line above.) She emphasizes the importance of a dramatic and surprising phrase in the last 5th line. She makes clear that writing English language haiku cannot follow some Japanese Tanka standards or sensitivities because these two languages have many differences in the sound elements, homonyms, more rhyming in Hiragana, culture, and poetic heritage. The Tanka form has been used since 800 CE in Japan. She includes a few of her longer Tanka sequences. She discusses tanka collage, tanka montage, Haibun, McClintock's Taika, Kyoka tanka wit and humor, minimalist tanka, response/dialogue tankas, Ekphrastic tanka, love tankas, travel/place tanka, diary tanka, tanka strings, nostalgic tanka, tan renga, confessional tanka, and tanka sequences. Japanese terms like wabi, sari, aware - mono no aware, kyojo, makoto, shibusa, and kokora are briefly explained. Ms. Wakan provides a brief bibliography and lists of online resources. She talks about the authors that influenced her. A fine companion to The Tanka Anthology (Edited by McClintlock, Ness, and Kacian, 2023) or Four Decades on My Tanka Road: The Tanka Collections of Sanford Goldstein, 2012."
Wind Five Folded: An Anthology of English-Language Tanka. By Jane Reichhold and Werner Reichhold. Gualala, CA: AHA Books, 1994.
Writing Haiku: A Beginner's Guide to Composing Japanese Poetry: Includes Tanka, Renga, Haiga, Senryu and Haibun. Tuttle, 192 pages, 2022.
"Tanka are not just stretched haiku." - Michael Dylan Welch
"Tanka are the perfect vehicle for capturing the swift, direct, pulse of emotion." - Carl Sesar
"No art form is more stubbornly national than poetry." - T. S. Eliot
25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works
Bundled Up: Tanka Poems by Mike Garofalo
Cuttings: Haiku by Mike Garofalo
Uncle Mike's Cellphone Poetry Series
Michael Peter Garofalo (1946-) grew up in East Los Angeles, was educated in Catholic Schools, lived with two other brothers, graduated (B.A., M.S.) from local universities, married Blanche Karen Eubanks, served in the US Air Force, worked in and managed many City and Los Angeles County Public Libraries, raised two children, socialized, traveled, and learned. Retired as the Regional Administrator, East Region, Los Angeles County Public Library in 1998. We moved to a rural 5 acre property in Red Bluff, in the North Sacramento Valley, CA. Webmaster since 1999. Worked part-time for the Corning School District (Technology and Media Services Manager); and as a yoga, Taijiquan, and fitness club instructor until 2016. Traveled extensively in Northern California, Oregon, and Washington. We both retired, and we moved to Vancouver, WA, in 2017. Currently in 2025: reading, writing, gardening, harmonica playing, home chores, yurt camping, exercise, traveling in the Northwest, web publishing, family events, poetry research, photography, Northwest research, Nature mysticism, walking, sports events, and other projects.
25 Steps and Beyond; Collected Works
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