there is a river
running rapid over stones
that have stood since Time
began. The black and white keys
let my soul run on and on.

river stones
have stood still
since Time began
let my soul
run on and on and on

•

The storm ceased
And a rainbow left me at peace
Contentment has been released

the yelling has ceased, and
a tear
gently plops on the linoleum—
the rainbow
after the storm

the flame of a candle
burning alone at night
a symbol of hope
Wind rushes past
leaving only a trace of smoke

The storm ceased
and a rainbow
appeared
Peace restored

class edit:

river rock
has stood here
since Time began
let my soul
run on and on and on

Laying in the sand
looking up at the stars,
I gaze at the sea
and see how big my dreams
can really be.

laying in the sand
I gaze at the sea
to see
how big
my dreams can be

under the stars
I gaze at the sea
to see
how big my dreams
can really be

fingers in the sand
eyes on the stars
the sea whispers quietly
just how big
my dreams can be

laying on the sand
I feel so small
looking out to the world,
but dreams as big as mine
can conquer the world

With soft sand on my skin
and the rush of the sea
I feel satisfied
When I look at the stars
I'm hungry for my future

class edit:

fingers in the sand
eyes on the stars
sea whispers
just how big
my dreams can be

author's edit:

laying in the sand
heavens looking down to me
the sea whispers
just how big
my dreams can be

Lauren Modlin

a blank page.
the words of love
are trapped
inside the hard shell
around my heart

a blank page—
the words
trapped
in the husk
of my heart

the blank page
my fist
clenched tight
around this pencil
writing a love poem

a blank page
words of love
inside my heart
trapped
like a hard shell

a blank page
remains,
while the words of love
stay trapped
in my heart of hearts

building a strong wall
with bricks that scrape against my
hands like sandpaper.
the words to fill this blank page
are trapped behind this wall

class edit:

a blank page.
my fist
clenched tight
writing a love poem
in pencil

•

my toes curl
into the warm wood
of my deck—
my morning
crawls through me

splinters dig
into my curled toes
as I perch on my deck…
something amiss, on this
my morning

my toes curl
into the warm wood
of this deck—
the morning
crawls through me

the warm wood of my deck
makes my toes curl
I'm enlightened
your smile—
brightens me more than the sun

class edit (make it a haiku):

my toes curl
the warm wood
of this deck

•

the flame of a candle
burning alone at night
a symbol of hope
Wind rushes past
leaving only a trace of smoke

the candle’s flame
surrounded by night
shines like hope—
a passing breeze
snuffs the flame

a single candle
fights a flickering battle
against the wind. A
single breath, and only smoke.
this is our symbol for hope?

•

he speaks to her
in a smooth voice
fraught with laughter
but where did those
horrible scars come from

he speaks to me
in a voice
fraught with laughter
where did those
scars come from

he speaks to her
in a smooth voice
crinkles of his smile
she wonders where those
horrible scars came from

he speaks to her
voice so smooth
fraught with laughter
those scars—
where did they come from?

•

in the evening
you bring me
the blossom of a morning glory
closed up in
around itself

in the evening
you bring me
the blossom of a morning glory
single violet petals
closed in around itself

in the evening
you bring me
a morning glory
closed around
itself

in the evening
you bring me
a morning glory
violet petals
closed around themselves

you bring me
a morning glory
in the evening
violet petals
wrapped up in themselves

•

ah, summer, summer
how quickly you fade. I cut
         rusted zinnias,
     place them on a glassed table—
         top, as if time could double

Geraldine Clinton Little, TTA, xxvii

Edits after reading Little's tanka:

ah, evening
you bring me
     morning glory blossoms
          each violet petal
               closed up around itself

ah, evening, evening
how quickly you close
morning glory blossoms
          each violet petal
          hushed up into itself

•

black and white
my colors
of anticipation
my heart skips a beat
to calling my name

black and white
my colors
of anticipation
calling my name
my world is technicolor

•

Sunday looms
the stress of work approaches
simply wishing
to become
so small

wishing to become
small
enough to slip into the mouse’s
doorway
the stress of work and Sunday night