Two tanka published in British Haiku Society publications

tanka (written below) with my name underneath

My writing, editing and submitting have slowed down considerably as my brain energy has been consumed by work. One of the challenges of chronic fatigue is brain fog and it’s been very foggy in there outside of work! However, this month I had tanka published by the British Haiku Society. The first in the latest Blithe Spirit journal:

scrolling
for pictures of joy
outside
unpruned rose branches
create puppets in the wind

Alison Clayton-Smith, Blithe Spirit Journal p. 35, vol. 33, no. 4

This describes the absurdity of those times I’m looking at photos of nature on social media to make me smile, and then I look up and watch the rose branches moving against the window across from me. Both give joy but only one creates a sense of peace and grounding.

The second tanka appears in ‘Change’ the BHS Members’ Anthology 2023:

tanka with my name underneath

last night
I thought of friends
lost
spinning fibre
into yarn for you

Alison Clayton-Smith, Change BHS Anthology 2023, p.97

Occasionally I get my spinning wheel out to spin plant fibres into handspun yarn for projects that might happen one day. As I was spinning this time I thought about the alternative meaning of yarn, as a story, and how spinning often features in the old myths and tales. And then there are all those stories of friends, and especially for me, Bobby, that we want to hold on to after they’ve gone. There’s this fear that we will forget the stories and that would mean the final end of a relationship. When Bobby first died I bought a notebook to write down all the stories about him but the notebook remains unused. I think partly because I’ve realised I’m unlikely to forget the ones that matter, but also, like doing something final with his ashes which are still sitting in my wardrobe, it would feel like a letting go that I’m still not ready for. My blog’s title ‘And then there were stories’ reflects this idea that once our loved ones, events or days have passed, often all we are left with are the stories. Furthermore, this tanka reflects the fact that as I spin I get lost in my thoughts.

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My first ‘tanka in print’

This week I got to see my first tanka in a print publication, the journal of the British Haiku Society, Blithe Spirit. The tanka was part of my first submission to this journal so I was absolutely delighted. I joined the BHS a few days before the submission deadline, not realising there was still time to submit, so it really was a sneaking in at the last minute type of submission. This particular tanka was written whilst I was sitting on my patio. This year I have pretty much given up weeding to allow my garden to determine what it needs (though the brambles, many plum tree saplings and nettles have to be managed otherwise that’s all there would be). There is something about the way that ‘nature’ reclaims its space, when given a chance, that is reassuring. When I look at the patio now, I see a living world of its own. So many things could be enriched if we let the cracks disappear.

The tanka:

I let cracks
disappear
under lemon balm
moss
and forget-me-nots