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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Wednesday 25th January 2023

Today is neither sunny nor frosty. The good run has broken but it is warmer and the birds’ water does not need defrosting.

There is much tweeting and cooing and other sounds of the sky. Doves, woodpigeons, blackbirds are busy flying or resting.

The dampness of the aftermath of frozen times makes the garden seem weary, worn down. My eyes focus on all the brown, dead and dying parts of the garden. Without the sun they seem even sadder. But as geese honk their way overhead, I remember that this is the cycle. Without death there can be no birth. All the brown will become food for the new life. And even before then, it serves as shelter for insects and other creatures. Let the imagination see what life there is here. All things have a purpose.