Tanka with the Masters

A PRIZE BIRD



You suit me
well, for you
can make me
laugh,

nor are you
blinded by the
chaff

that every wind
sends spinning
from the rick.



You know to
think, and what
you think you
speak

with much of
Samson's pride
and bleak

finality, and
none dare bid
you stop.



Pride sits you
well, so strut,
colossal bird.

No barnyard
makes you look
absurd;

your brazen
claws are
staunch against
defeat.



Marianne Moore




reflections

a blue jay bobs near
astride a limb hew towee!
mean across and lean,
gory crowns will streak and smear:
hew toweee to him who waits!

conrad didiodato

stories , unfold
among the axiom
of stars
how grand my self-reflecton,
beside the vigil of the moon
karina klesko