Two Tanka

reaching for more
I topple the glass
spilling tears
not for the milk
for the sighs
in the hall
we all laugh
not seeing the boy
stuffing himself

in his backpack

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

I’ve decided to dedicate the week to tanka. Tanka is an ancient Japanese form, even more ancient than haiku. Tanka consist of five lines. The first three lines offer an image. The last two lines offer a commentary on the first image, sometimes through an additional resonating image. In Japanese tanka use 5-7-5-7-7 “sounds.” In English one might use 5-7-5-7-7 syllables or fewer.

I’m personally drawn to tanka for the double, resonating images. I think the form might be particularly suited to middle school students who often seem to be thinking about what’s happening and what they think about what’s happening.

Here’s a link to my current favorite tanka: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22339

More later.

Liz

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Early Morning

In the dark they sing
For the folded crocus
In the dark they sing
For the dim daffodil
In the dark they sing
For the somnolent tulip
In the dark they sing
For the imminent crowd
In the dark they sing
For they cannot wait
In the dark they sing

For the lingering sun

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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The Cat by the Door


Dear Scout,
begs to go out,
not so she can hunt.

She doesn’t go
to fight a foe
or meet up with a friend.

She doesn’t run,
or stretch in the sun,
or nibble a blade of grass.

Dear Scout,
begs to go out
so she can sniff the wind.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, 
all rights reserved

photo by Amos
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Flurries

photo by Naomi
Snow Cat


From the window she hunts

Snowflakes riding winter winds.

She leaps!

Pinning herself to the screen

Like a snow glob stuck to the glass

Before it seeps to the floor.


Snow Boy


From the window he hunts
Snowstorms riding distant winds.

He wishes!

Pressing himself to the cold

Like a breath that fogs the glass

Before it disappears.



Snow Girl


From the window she hunts

Snow angels riding glistening winds.

She peers.

Angling herself to the glass

Like a ray of sunlight that shines bright

Before breaking into color.



Snow Dog

From the window he hunts
Snow boots trudging through frigid winds.
He dreams!
Turning away from the cold
Like a door that shuts
Before the intruder arrives.





© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Valentine Poem in Candy Hearts

CUTIE PIE
I HOPE
MY WAY
SWEET TALK
BE GOOD
BE MINE
ALL MINE
I DO
BE KIND
I DO
LOVE YOU
TRUE LOVE
HUG ME
MY BABY
YOU RULE

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Snowball Poem

I am all cold hands piling, rolling, rounding happiness eventually accumulated.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Going Upstairs in the Dark

I’m climbing up the stair.
It’s dark up there. It’s dark up there.
The light switch isn’t down the stair.
It’s way up there. It’s way up there.
I’m climbing up the stair.
Do I dare ask who’s waiting there?
I know that ghosts are very rare,
But still one might be hiding there.
I’m climbing up the stair.
I feel a tingle in my hair.
I think perhaps I feel a stare.
I think perhaps I feel a glare.
I’m climbing up the stair.
It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair.
To send me to the ghosts’ dark lair.
Don’t they care? Don’t they care?
I tiptoe, tiptoe up the stair.
I flip the switch. I’ve made it there.
The light shines here. The light shines there.
I gave that ghost a great big scare!

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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A Shoe for Tying

When learning to tie,
You should give it a try
On a carefully chosen shoe.
The shoe should be new,
Preferably blue,
Extra large too,
Not belonging to you.
The shoe should have laces,
And never make faces
When fingers go places
There shouldn’t be spaces.
Its tongue must not fight
Even if you should bite
While pulling it tight
With all of your might.
Its toe must not tap
To your shoe-tying rap.
It should sit in your lap
And take a nice nap,
Though it might feel a whap
As its strings flip and flap.
The shoe must sit still
No matter how shrill
You scream with the thrill
Of tying it.


© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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My Bed

My bed is not for sleeping.
It’s my special place to be.
I come here when the person
I need most to see is me.
My bed is where I curl
To read a brand-new book,
So I can make a friend,
Or go someplace to look.
My bed is a swirl of blankets
That makes a cozy nest.
I burrow here when I’m lonely
And I don’t feel quite my best.
My bed is like a stage
Where I give myself a prize
For doing all the things
No one knows I tried.
My bed is just for me.
There’s no one here to play.
My bed is where I take myself
When I’ve nothing good to say.
My bed is a waiting ship
That I can sail alone,
Exploring distant lands
Where the sun has never shone.
My bear lives on my bed
And sheds her worn gray fuzz.
Sometimes I like to visit her
And the self that I once was.
My bed has a magic view.
If I look out past my feet,
I can see my grown-up self,
Walking down the street.
My bed is perfectly comfy.
When each long day is done,
I snuggle here to dream
Of the day that’s soon to come.


© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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Blues
Pure blue is the sky
In the middle of July
When there isn’t a breath
And you’re lying in the lull
Squinting at the sun
That blinds your eye.
Lazy blue is the sea
Dancing loose and free
For a shell pink beach
Where all you do is drift
Rocked by a dream
Of a place you’ll never be.
Sudden blue is lightning
When there isn’t any biting
Of nails in the house
And you can hear it strike
The quiet in your heart
While you are writing. 
Sad blue is her eyes
Blinking away the lies
When she opens her door
And straightens her face
And smears her painted lips
And says Where was I?

Dizzy blue is your stand
On that lazy island sand
That scorches your hopes
As you beg selfish waves
For a song for your dream
As it slips from your hand.
Pure blue is the sky
In the middle of July
When there isn’t a breath
And you’re lying in the lull
Squinting at the sun
That blinds your eye.

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

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