Tag: #ribbons

Delighted that Ribbons Fall 2023: Volume 19, Number 3 issue features my tanka prose and tanka sequence. Ribbons is the prestigious tanka journal of the Tanka Society of America.

Grateful to Susan Weaver, Editor & Liz Lanigan, Tanka Prose Editor for the acceptance & publication.
Here is the tanka prose:

Light of Hope
Neena Singh, Chandigarh, India

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all
~ Emily Dickinson

The white-bearded, turbaned Sardarji sits outside the public garden with multi-colored lamps stacked around him. I stop to greet him with folded hands, and he beams a broad smile. I enquire whether these lamps are homemade, and he responds in the affirmative.

“My family had suffered in Delhi during the anti-Sikh riots of 1984. I lost everything I owned, so, with the family, I fled to Dehradun to build a new life. After trying many odd jobs, I began making lanterns and selling them door-to-door. Now I am getting old, and people don’t buy my lamps as much as they used to,” he says with a sigh.

last night
heavy rain pelted
the old pine
yet it stands tall
strong-willed like you

Seeing my interest, he warms up and confides that he is saving money for his daughter’s marriage, after which he will return home and stop this arduous labor which has engaged him for the last twenty years. The old man’s words ring close to my heart, as I walk home, clutching a red lamp, wondering if it will light up my life.

August wind
ripples the evergreen
feathery fronds fall…
what burdens we carry
of the stories we hear

Photo edited at his request to respect anonymity.

My tanka prose in Ribbons, Winter 2023, Issue 19, Vol 1, grateful to Liz Lanigan, Tanka Prose Editor.

Of Human Bondage

This is a story of two dogs; the first, a stray black mongrel, who lives in our neighborhood and behaves like a monkey. He leaps our gate and perches on our car. He has made the neighbor’s house his own abode, as the owner of the house is away. Every night and early morning he is seen, perched precariously on their parapet, bold and fearless. I’ve christened him Perch!

The other is our pet Rumi—a 13-year-old yellow lab, more human than dog: trapped by our love, neither free nor fearless. She shows no interest in other dogs but adores babies and youngsters. The only people she barks at are mendicants, beggars, and the garbage collector. Content to be with us, she loves to play catch-ball for treats, avidly listens to music, and greatly enjoys rides in the car.

I often wonder, “Who is happier—Perch or Rumi?”

perched on the wall
a parrot pecks
birdseed
breakfast in the garden
we drink winter sunshine

Well, this tale has a twist. On return from offshore travels, our neighbor adopted Perch. He no longer jumps walls; has a new name, a red collar, and a leash around his neck. I see him being taken for walks, trotting meekly alongside his master. The look he gives me is one of recognition. A small wag of the tail tells me that he remembers the milk and bread we fed him outside our gate.

this desire
to be a blade of grass
dancing in the rain
yet I stand tall and grim
dripping like the evergreen

(Title thanks to Somerset Maugham)