28 Jul 2014
20 Jul 2014
But now he was full grown, the son seemed to hear his mother's playing every time he stood before the painting.
He'd remember the time he'd been standing by her at the piano, the time when he'd noticed his father turn and walk away.
Since then, nothing had ever been the same.
Written for the Mag 229, where Tess gave us an image of quite another persuasion...but which I translated into something else....
I hope you get the picture. :-)
13 Jul 2014
Once unveiled, the scale of it
could fool the senses
into believing they saw
a steel and concrete town-scape;
creating strange images
of alien things
hovering just out of sight
behind a wire forest.
Written for Mag 228, with thanks to Tess and the un-named photographer.
P.S. Though it may look like random line breaks, I've actually used two of the Tanka, five line, 5/7/5/7/7 syllable count.