Tanka Project #44: Secrets

This is the 44th tanka of the 44 I told you I'd write for the tanka project. I actually accidentally wrote 45, but the spare one will have to remain secret for now, you might find it somewhere in the future.

I need to get my head out of the tanka shaped space. I'm yearning to go longer, I'm getting excited about stories, although I am mainly finding ways to keep writing while the house keeps getting messed up (honestly it's as if five people and four animals lived in it), and I'm working at the library.

On that, I'm loving working in the library. It's such a fabulous place to be, even on days which are a bit fraught, like today. I am also incredibly impressed with how lovely my co-workers are. I've never worked somewhere like this before!

Anyway, this tanka was something I wrote while drinking wine in front of the TV, binge watching Poldark (I finally got 'round to it, I am gutted that Ross and Elizabeth didn't end up together yet because they deserve each other, I am also dismayed at just how many books there are in the series). Anyway, I misheard something someone said about the sea, and this is where it led!

The Tanka Project: THE END

Comments

February update!

Hello! Please see above for a screenshot (not sure who the photo is by) from the lovely Fragmented Voices website which has my poem, Escaping Pheasants, as their featured poem today. This poem is inspired by the pheasants which are brought in to our local country house for people who are that way inclined to shoot. Sometimes I see them flapping down from the estate wall and on to the busy road, making a break for it toward the moors. Good luck pheasants. Escaping Pheasants also features in my book, Little Gods, published by the marvellous Roswell Publishing and available from booksellers and Amazon, or get in touch to get a signed copy from me. Other recent successes include two poems in Obsessed with Pipework #105, a Haiku in Coin Operated Press ' Haiku Zine, The Libraries came out in Culture Matters' Bread & Roses Anthology, and, as I mentioned last time, When you slow a bit you can see the way , another poem from Little Gods, came out in Butcher's Dog #19. I have ...

Beaches: a poetry post

And so we're into Autumn, I swear I heard the tyres screeching as the season turned. I'm writing this at my desk in the light of my little lamp and it's almost 9am, but it's gloomy because it's chucking it down. I love Autumn. I spent ages yesterday watching gannets diving for fish in the roiling sea, keeping their places despite the wind. And I love the fog that can wrap us up in a quiet blanket. I used to live in the Isle of Man, where the god Manannan takes care of his drunk little islanders by wrapping his warm cloak around them. So whenever I can't see the islands near us for the fog I wonder if Manannan is wrapping his cloak around us too. It feels like it. Anyway, The Prompt, over on the Mum Turned Mom blog this week is Motion, which just had me thinking of the motion of the ocean, and of the good luck I have to be able to live near the sea again. So I am sharing this poem which I wrote earlier this year, inspired by a line in Andrew McMillan...

Cleaning: A Poetry Post

Today I'm bringing inspiration from a writing workshop I went to the other day. We had to list lots of things, like things we did every day, things we hated, all that stuff. I can't remember which list 'cleaning' fell on - it could have been either of the ones I've mentioned, but here is my poem on the subject. If you like it, please feel free to share. Cleaning I'm not leaning toward cleaning. Not predisposed to tidy clothes. I'm not inclined to wax sublime. There is no room I would vacuum. I've no desire to scrub with wire. I wouldn't wish to wash a dish. As for laundry, it just bores me. Toward cleaning I'm not leaning. © Cara L McKee 3/4/16

Skeleton Architecture

Search This Blog