my childhood heroes
depicted in their youth
kept in a cigar box
under my bed
for safe keeping

Norman Mears

between the macaroni art
and crayon portraits
in the old chest
a letter never sent to her
written on construction paper

Norman Mears

I liked this piece because it reminds me of drawing and doodling on construction paper as a kid. I reminded of when I used to draw houses and stick people on construction paper. There was no finesse with my work, I just grabbed crayons and starting drawing shapes onto paper. This piece is so relatable and full of nostalgia but then the third line and all subsequent lines are a twist and I like that. I’m wondering, why he never sent her the letter and why it was hidden away in an old chest let alone written on construction paper. Maybe he meant to see it but it got lost when he moved/ grown up or maybe he wrote it just to get his feelings out and he never was going to send it. Lauren

miles away
on my neck
feeling his kiss
when he mentions it
intoxicating

Norman Mears

first glance
nothing is amiss
a volcano is lying in wait
chlorine tickles her nose
AA . . . Choo

Lauren Rhodes

overcast skies
hardened tears
even rain won't cool her
a page turns
but her story is not over

the eerie silence
freezes our bodies
like Han in Carbonite
it's a trap
we can't escape

she looks young
aging like fine
expensive wine
on a side of milk
fountain of youth

Bemajedareki Williams

the picture frame
mom smiling
dad is happy
to see their first
alive

Bemajedareki Williams

Everyone has seen this family photo. It is on the walls, mantels, and desks of everyone. Inside every baby book, this memory is captured. However, after hearing the backstory of this tanka, I felt it made this photo extra special. Norman

facial features
a beautiful woman
kept to me
forever
how handsome

my dad's
brown leather chair
welcomes me
with open arms
i sink into home

Hannah Ottenfield

Dr. Brooks's edit of the Tanka makes the piece a little less redundant. With that mentioned, however, I do like this one. It reminds me of a few armchairs at my family's summer home in Lake Michigan. I always appreciate a piece of art that can recreate that emotion. Kathryn

my lead feet
pull my stone body
inch by inch
down the sidewalk
i feel so heavy

Hannah Ottenfield

fishbowl hips
balloon wrists
doorhinge ribcage
ruler ankles
body of a dancer

seeing her pretty self
Mi Madre
enjoying her break
watching movies
fresh moments

wishing you happy
smiling at me
over watching
from the stairs
Requiescat in Pace

Bemajedareki Williams

the father
“still got work”
“lunch?” I say
“you're paying”
. . . cheap date.

Bemajedareki Williams

Crappy trailer park
white trash bums
Budweiser odor
why did you think
I wanted this?

Kathryn Coffey

Munchkin
goes on forever
no end
Come on!
Die already!

Kathryn Coffey

Brings me back
trying to get
a cookie
Now Mom's patience
       is mine

Kathryn Coffey

when did
the male gaze
become like
oxygen
to me?

the twinkle
of grey eyes
in the fluorescent light
nothing more
than wishful thinking

as she lay
draped across
the bathroom floor
just like
a marble statue

Hannah Ottenfield

This piece has me imagining myself laying on the bathroom floor sick as a dog. And it’s that sickness where you want to feel better but if you move, any sudden movements it makes every ache and pain worse. So instead you pretend to be statue and hopefully the pain goes away on its own. Lauren

out of the corner of my eye
her leg tremors
fears bubbling like cola
she desires shelter
instead she waits for Godot.

Lauren Rhodes

casting a shadow
elephant in the room
ego the size of california
me on the outside
a line in the sand is drawn

sleep in her eyes
a nose larger than life
she is all neck
yards of off fabric
dusted with gold flecks

slower and slower
my strides have become
remembering the route taken
yet not remembering
these new aches and pains

Norman Mears

watching the enjoyment
of my son
going higher and higher
wishing it was me
on that swing

Norman Mears

As usual, I really enjoy Norman's work. With this piece, I like the idea of the father wishing he was on the swing. They are a lot of fun, and in the rare times I go out to Fairview, I would swing on the swings. I love it when I feel like flying. Kathryn

holding the softness
of your hand in mine
fireworks glistening
on the canvas of darkness
above our love

Norman Mears

I imagine a couple on a boardwalk like Coney Island on the a holiday like Fourth of July holding hands and melting into each other, an observer can’t even tell it’s two people. In the night sky the only light is fireworks but they only have eyes for each other. Lauren

looking at
the pretty blonde
through a frosty window
forever wishing
that it was a mirror

. . . split second darkness
interrupts the broadcast
an unanswered knock
leftover ringing from a seashell
plunging over the edge

Lauren Rhodes

gun powder in the air
strewn tarred feathers
long gone footprints
there were no tears
"More weight."

B r e a k time!
passing out
the time to
rekindle
old childhoods

Bemajedareki Williams

That old home
on Mozart
not my Nana's
or mine
anymore

Kathryn Coffey

jelly bean
take one
Is it vomit?
I'll never tell
       damn

Kathryn Coffey

Sipping on soda
letting the past
get swept away
by the sip
of a straw

Out the window
dripping rain drops
He's out there
having some pizza
with her

Pictures of horses
removed
Misfits and Timberlake
take their place
for now

Kathryn Coffey

Growing up and changes in life. This is what this tanka reminded me of. It took me back to the walls of my room. From the concert ticket stubs that were displayed on my mirror, to the walls covered with posters and magazine clippings, everything was strategically placed. I did also like the point that "The Misfits" were mentioned. I believe they were represented on my skateboard, many moons ago. Norman

Many loves
Many hairstyles
Many outfits
only one constant
       solitude

Kathryn Coffey

No Longer Free

I walk this circle
around and around
no longer free
knowing every crack
of these concrete walls

I am now a number
kept inside the system
no longer free
alone within myself
not wanting this solitude

I attempt to survive
daily—among the wicked
no longer free
watching myself
trusting no one

I will never see
the pureness of the sun
no longer free
my life on display
between these bars

I think constantly
about my past life
no longer free
convicted and condemned
I walk this circle

Norman Mears