Long Tanka Poems
Long Tanka Poems. Below are the most popular long Tanka by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tanka poems by poem length and keyword.
He had do fight all odds
A man of unbreakable idealism
Alone with his ideas
A mysterious death at high sea
The truth will never be known
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Gegen alle Widerstände
Ein Mann mit ungebrochenem Idealismus
Alleine mit seinen Ideen
Mysteriöser Tod auf hoher Sea
Die Wahrheit wird niemand erfahren
-------------------------------------------------
En lucha contra todas probabilidades
Un hombre de idealismo irrompible
Solo con sus ideas
Una muerte misteriosa en alta mar
La verdad nunca será conocida
Note: Rudolf Christian Karl Diesel, 1858-1913, was a German engineer and the inventor of
the Diesel engine. He spent his youth until 1870 in Paris and surroundings. When being
extradited after the start of the German-French-War in 1870, Diesel and his family left for
London. He as a child travelled alone to Augsburg, Germany were he lived for five years
with his uncle and went to school there. He started studies of mechanical engineering in
1875 in Munich and applied for a patent of a „New and economical power engine“ at the
Emperial Patent-Office in Berlin. From 1908 on he developed the first functional model of
his engine with the financial assistance of the Krupp company. In January 1898 the first
factory for Diesel engines was built in Augsburg, Germany. A Diesel Engine Company was
inaugurated by autumn 1900 in London. The first motor vessels with a Diesel engine were
built in 1903. Diesel was at a state of bad health due to numerous patent-lawsuits. He was
not a good businessman and lost his complete fortune. On September 29th Diesel boarded the
mail-vessel Dresden to cross the Channel for Harwich to participate in a meeting of the
„Consolidated Diesel Manufacturing Ltd.“ in London. He seemed to be in a good manner when
he was last seen on board of the ship. On October 10th 1913 the crew of a Dutch
government pilot ship saw a body drifting in the water at heavy sea. As the body was
highly decomposed, the crew only got hold of some personal belongings (a pastille box,
purse, pocket knife and a spectacle case) which were later identified as Diesel's
belongings by his son Eugen. The real cause of his death was never clarified and his
dependants never believed in suicide, but in murder to steal Diesel's ideas. So his death
is still remains a mystery.
I walk outside and I see chaos
People killing people
War between the nations
And war in our own backyards
Kids exploding at school
And destroying our young life
Destruction all around us
The lost innocence of people
Where has it gone
Who can we trust
Our security has fallen away
When we can’t turn to those sworn to protect us
Who can we turn to
Money won’t get you anywhere
You can’t buy yourselves out of this world
Will money keep you safe
Not when people will kill for money
Afraid to walk down the street
The innocent cry with sorrow
Wondering what they have done
Being suppressed in an isolated society
The kids being killed for no reason
Is there anyone to hear their cry’s
To deliver us from all this disaster
I pray, Lord keep us safe
Keep us in your hands
And watch over us
Put an end to this chaos
Can’t watch the news
Hearing the violence of the world
In a declining society of integrity
What happened to the morals we were raised up with
Generosity has become a lost art
How can we live
Watching and looking over our shoulders
There’s no unity in this nation
Why can’t we all get along
Do you have to carry those guns
And those knives that kill
Do you see what you’re doing
Are you that blind to see
Afraid to walk down the street
The innocent cry with sorrow
Wondering what they have done
Being suppressed in an isolated society
The kids being killed for no reason
Is there anyone to hear their cry’s
To deliver us from all this disaster
I pray, Lord keep us safe
Keep us in your hands
And watch over us
Put an end to this chaos
Put your weapons down
Look into the eyes of those around you
Can you feel their hurt
Would you want to take an innocent life
Realize you can’t live like this
Be the first to start a new
Help a friend and brother in need
Help each other find their way
Change the way you think
Be reverent of life
So put your pride out of the picture
Stop the killing and the hurt
Afraid to walk down the street
The innocent cry with sorrow
Wondering what they have done
Being suppressed in an isolated society
The kids being killed for no reason
Is there anyone to hear their cry’s
To deliver us from all this disaster
I pray, Lord keep us safe
Keep us in your hands
And watch over us
Put an end to this chaos.
That was then when we
studied using pen -paper,
practiced handwriting.
consulted dictionary,
committed to memory.
This is now when kids
are used to handle computer,
having no idea
of mental calculation
Google gives each solution,
That was then happened
Eager to hear voice of
of most beloved,
depending on your land phone,
or to wait for love letter.
This is now , we see :
Mobile is always at hand.
No need for waiting.
Communication easy.
Also Break up is ready.
That was then when we
blindly obeyed our parents,
cared for seniors .
Learned to give priority
to both family and friends.
This is now just clear
New generations holding
' Don't care' attitude .
' My life is mine' being the
motto of life all along.
That was then when to
respect the moral values
as universal.
Plain living and high thinking
accepted as ideal.
This is now when we
wish to float in luxury,
and always selfish.
Malice but no sacrifice.
High living and plain thinking.
On a shattered pebble beach my kernel,
becomes this dervish dancing to the maniacal symbol rash tune,
of inchoate monsoon grass beat timpani,
that’s dimly frowned on by sonic virtuoso,
but terms like briny carrageen sea sweep gain purple splotch kudos,
I gaze with indigo ocean eyesight,
at sheer rock face sunken mould gradient,
where faculties solicit august maxim,
from eternal parchment, grain whirl sand dune smorgasbord,
mud-strewn psalms primed and pumped by ebbing sotto voce stream,
gust smitten lighthouse whose solitary pulsing wink always welcome,
syntax that gray matter genesis scorned geoform tag,
I scribble quintains in a quagmire that ooze magma inkling,
prose stolen from jagged facet incline or whatever,
has this elemental moment turned ghost writer by sixth sense?
saline vista swung pivot on tsunami doorway,
brackish carcass rife with clamped seashells as mirror,
weather-worn thoughts skim eccentric apex,
behemoth undertaker facing self-scripted gauntlet,
but this pilgrim shall yearn evermore imbibing loose mist,
with marble slab as jotter and squid ink another fountain pen,
who really knows what tidemark gems may yet surface,
do metaphors sequester diurnal cycles like day/night swop?
rhetorical or not this lambent aspect must be met on grit-etch blue boulder,
vice-grip of visual plunge belies gravity,
yet this blustery conundrum is just this water drop,
something inconsequential for one clutching at faint will-o-the-wisp,
pepper-strewn haze does obstruct linguistic odour,
despite a caustic rebuff from deep down warden as inner slant,
zany whirlpool blob grasping at ambiguous twill plume,
faraway tangerine canvass might stir tongue-tied raw sketch,
ingenious quest might throb for charmed portrayal,
nought shall thwart this dreamer off-course,
spectral pantoum, geometric quatrain, jewel-crust tanka,
prolific silken sentient suzette an overarch odyssey,
regardless of vernal totem, sumptuous literary harvest,
with its dogged catalytic compass point,
to maunder without curb despite prevailing opus storm,
sculptured outcrop on an apt idyllic text,
once off ephemeral from boundless paragon,
a colour burst vocabulary pending but when?
A Crystalline blooms upon the cold like snow covered autumn joy a haiku blossoms on a frozen winter cherry till the wispy spring Tanka flourishing dripping from an ice sculpture in the wind blown trees painting pictures in the snow the icicle drops of rainbows opening petals in a Senryu garden warming the inside
We Danced written by Poet John Heck
I penned a couplet for you today.
Rather, a quill manipulated
my hand and scrawled mendacity.
The misanthrope's who read the ode
applauded with flippers on.
Such insight. Such depth.
Mussolini meets Monet and
the Mephistopheles Mambo mounts.
Call me a scribe and I murder myself.
Call me a liar and I impregnate your charm.
I purposely dislocated my arm today.
Rather, your tongue severed bone
and flesh was torn from my shoulder;
a needed braised boomerang
to stimulate my poetic prowess.
Such clarity. Such wisdom.
Lenin leads Lichtenstein and
the Lucifer Lindy is launched.
Call me a poet and I gnarl my fingers.
Call me a fabulist and I bow to a crooked smile.
A jellyfish swam through my veins today.
Rather, the tentacles of a tyrant
triggered a fabricated Tanka.
Maudlin stumbles when I laugh alone -
more comedic when we cackle together.
Such simplicity. Such compassion.
Bundy befriends Berchtold and
the Beelzebub Bossa Nova begins.
Call me a dramatist and I gag upon reflection.
Call me a simpleton and your wishes are granted.
I solemnly yearn to expire today.
Rather, a fool fires in a fury
and a mannequin lies in his casket.
The curse you've driven towards me -
a combination menu
when a lone Woolf inconspicously
devours a battered Browning.
Such diversity. Such nothingness.
Stalin seduces Seurat and
the Satanic Samba softly swoons.
Call me a parodist and I choke upon perfection.
Call me a realist when I'm sleeping on nails.
Disclaimer:" We Danced" poem written in the year 2009
by Mr.John Heck,a wonderful poet to be known who is no longer in our P.S family.
Being new to this site ,very sad to know few of them
have already demised.
Let's explore the treasure box by reading their works.
I am sure we can gain lots of knowledge and in fact
improve our writing skills too.
May the demised soul's RIP.
We can keep them alive through posting
and re-reading their dedications.
1-7-2020
Note: Submitting in "The Uncontest" Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco.
Meg often told Josh
to try to be less reckless
but Josh had panache
when dealing with dangerous
too often being feckless
since days of sixth grade
their hands often intertwined
Meg and Josh displayed
how their main wants were aligned
though to harm Josh was purblind
Meg off to college
while Josh acquired war knowledge
strife without stoppage
where fears must be acknowledged
sympathy soon abolished
is no safe return
for what's lost along the way
only time to burn
no matter what others say
may come no brighter new day
when Twin Towers fell
Josh had rushed off to enlist
Meg's life went to hell
Josh’s words now like a hard fist
boy she'd known didn't exist
the world keeps turning
no matter how hard we pray
or strength of yearning
for that which was yesterday
tomorrow can be stone gray
forward observer
to Afghanistan he's sent
his own preserver
living in wind torn pup tent
letters described his descent
first months Meg worried
next mission Josh would be dead
their future buried
Josh's letters fill her with dread
terror lies in what's now read
tis time which smolders
forever change is churning
both growing older
with each thing Meg is learning
worry won't stop time burning
hold tight to your soul
into the void it may go
longing digs deep holes
upsetting the status quo
mixing up who's friend and foe
tick-tock does not stop
until tense mainsprings unwind
now their ball shall drop
just before ties will them bind
leaving little peace of mind
what scares Meg most
not if Josh is still alive
with return now close
Meg's uncertain she'll survive
what's become a nosedive
measuring last breathes
some things become worse than death
stolen by time's thieves
what we still want to believe
before we can start to grieve
dreading Josh's return
Meg would now prefer to hide
only time to burn
their fate's unwilling new bride
now caught on the same strange ride
only time to burn
while human emotions churn
withal yet we yearn
our ought-to-bes make downturns
changes cannot be returned
watching the leaves
touching damp earth
I walk on, (pondering)—
how graceful they fall
so unlike me
************************************************************
feathered silence
folded in paper
tickled—
with the sound
of your laughter
************************************************************
holding the plum bowl
glass shatters
as my fingers slip
my heart
along with it
************************************************************
listening
in entomology class
I yawn….
swallowing
a mosquito
************************************************************
creased with silence
letting go
of that paper boat—
I write your name
in water
************************************************************
a few (ilan) of my attempts (tangka) at writing some tanka some time ago, they
probably don't even qualify as tanka? these aren't related with each other
though...
Also me just trying to see if formatting will hold this time? The other day when
I tried it, it did (even from Word) now, even from notepad, the formatting is all
aligned to the left? Lemme see center now if it stays as centered (ok, it actually
does). But aligning it to the right doesn't seem to stay though?
A BACKWARD GLANCE
Alongside a Chiltern chalkstream
I lay me down to dream,
of country paths,stiles and steep slopes,
those days,long ago,filled with hope;
I dreamed of days of summer sun
when my life had just begun,
climbing trees,cricket on the green,
the first time I made the school team;
Football with coats and tennis ball,
bonfire night fireworks in the Fall,
carol singing through silent streets,
paper chains and Christmas treats.
Crystal clear,vision's backward gaze
brought forth from nostalgia's haze.
Many instant delights can never last
All future certainty lies in the past,
Often distant memories linger so
Nostalgia's balance sways to and fro;
Fleeting and ephmeral is the dream
Yesterday's hero,a today's has-been,
Rose-tinted glasses with short-sighted views
Can distort all perspective,out of true;
Twenty,twenty embellishes hind-sight
But cannot guarantee,a future bright,
Experience forgotten wastes away
As superficiality has its day.
The wheel of life endlessly turns again
Grinding mistakes with perpetual pain.
The imaginary musings of my mind,
experience past & present lingers long,
dusted off,re-opened,viewed from time to time,
retrospective perspective changes all;
Maturity's long-sightedness squints aghast,
then savours the mellowness of memory;
A tear,a smile washes nostalgia's face;
Today will be yesterday,gathering dust,
then filed,microfiched,all too soon forgotten
'til an event unlocks the museum again.
Dull
colours,
long buried-
this sepia
day
Our
childhood
memories-
a forest of
dreams
see
snows of
yesteryear
drifting in my mind.
score
and ten-
looking back,
one day at a time.
TANKA
Spring is cricket on the green
Summer is picnics in the park
Autumn is conkers from the crescent
And in Winter slides on ice
across the schoolyard
Crystalline 57 Nostalgia
The stream where pooh sticks once were raced
now flows into memory's embrace
THE WAKE
Slowly,
nostalgia
trickles into
torrents,to flood memory's
canyon.
Draconian State
Just authoritarian,
humiliating
human rights snatching freedom
destroying humanity.
Defying moral values :
Dishonouring basic needs
of human beings.
some sort of insanity.
Ruled by obnoxious laws.
Draconian state !
Impossible to survive
being imperfect
for welfare of society
but doing only mischief.