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Search tags: tanka-prose
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text 2016-09-20 06:04
Harvest Moon


'Cause my pa's on the harvester

My sister's singin' songs

My ol' ma's chuckin' bales of hay

My brother's on the drums

We all get down in the big ol' barn

Singin' those new tunes

Singin' songs that should be sung

Singin' under the moon


harvest moon and red barn

moonshine whiskey and flowered dreams

a smile with lipstick shine

banjo plucked by flicking fingers

as she lays back in virgin hay

Source: chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com
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text 2016-09-15 18:59
Staying Cool

the coolness of trees

perfect for hotheadedness

wait for the slow shade

let the warm sun melt tension

take off your shoes and tune-in

Two hours walking in a forest will lower your blood pressure levels and cortisone production. The forest walk will also help build up your white blood cells, strengthening your immune system. If you walk at a fast pace now and then you will also benefit from the excercise.


Trees give off chemicals that we may well benefit greatly from, according to latest research. These benefits are also possible through the inhaling of the fragrances of natural rosmarin and lemon.


The last line of the tanka is an important one. We do need to tune-in to the earth's healthy electron magnetic field. When indoors we are charged with highly toxic EMFs, specifically from WiFi, or older TVs, but also mobile phones and electric appliances like hair dryers. This is not a joke, and extremely serious illnesses can develop from overexposure.



Source: chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com
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text 2016-09-11 19:27
The Beekeeper


I was recently in Bulgaria, feeding a cat at a park bench, before taking a bus through Serbia; Hungary, Slovakia, Poland; Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. That information is sort of irrelevant, except that it was a long way. 


A couple of hours before I was due to leave a couple sat at the bench next to mine. As it is both my habit and that of Bulgarians generally too, we struck up a conversation, or rather the woman and I did:

 "Stanislav does not speak much English," she said, gesturing at her husband.

 "He's very patient;" I said. After all, we had been speaking for about forty five minutes.

  "Yes, he's the patient one," she giggled, "not me! He's a beekeeper you know," she added.

   "I see," I said.

  "He says you have to be very, very patient when working with bees. If not they get angry, and then..." she shrugged and made a vague gesture in the air with her left hand, opening it to the sky.


Nature is patient. There are moments in my forest when the true meaning of calmness becomes very clear, and in the study of trees it is us the excitable ones. Yet if we measure communication in different ways, the vocabulary of trees is far more extensive than ours. We may know around a thousand words at best, but trees can emit up to three thousand different chemicals, creating different fragrances and aromas, for a wide variety of reasons. Trees warn each other of attack, and when caterpillars start on the leaves of a tree it will emit chemicals that attract wasps from far and wide. These wasps are remarkably efficient at neutralising the caterpillars, thus perhaps even saving the tree.


Stanislav the beekeeper was indeed almost zenlike in his calmness. Trees, allies of wasps, too, remain calm, and have that zen quality in their quiet repose



in the forest

the language of nature speaks

in different ways

under the shade of leaves

I watch the roots grow, slowly




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text 2016-09-03 20:04

Walking in the forest brings an emptyness of bitterness, and thought of redundant things, of what troubles and drags on us. There is a taste, a fragrance in the air, and the trees shush away what is bad, poisonous from our minds and bodies. 

kissing her

a fullness of desire

under a maple tree

even after in my dreams

-sweet birch syrup spilling


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text 2016-08-29 18:34
Evening in Sofia

My underwear drying on the window...the bottle of wine emptying by magic...cramps in my stomach everytime I breathe in...outside a ludicrous sign touches the sky, and I laugh; at least it's not snowing; damn it, at least it's not snowing...and only the vodka bottles are pouring...clinking too, like miniature church bells, and this is summer, wait till the winter cold...


it only hurts when I laugh

sunny day in the Sofia night

somewhere my lover lies weeping

and yet my bottle is dry

or is it the other way around?

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