We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)

24.11.25

November Tanka: Place and Time

 

piles of paper

overflow from my desk

to my table –

as if I could feast on

the written word (I can)


20/11/25



memory

wanders on the outskirts

of town

along the river bank

of my childhood


21/11/25



dark moon

in the month and sign

of my birth –

not surprising I’m loath

to tidy my house


21/11/25



good intuition

he says when (next door) I guess 

he was painting –

no, art gives a certain

quality to the silence


21/11/25



‘poor little girl’

I think, of my friend  

who died young —

a woman strong and free   

but I know her childhood 


23/11/25



the hot is here

I put on my sarong

tie it firm —

thin cotton towel I bought 

long ago in India 


24/11/25



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