The Tanka: Author's Statement In 5 lines, 31 syllables, more or less, it captures a sensory world that is spiritually alive. One of the oldest Chinese-Japanese poetry forms, originally used in letter writing, like its sibling haiku form, it has long been associated with Zen Buddhism. Much adapted in many languages today, its conciseness brings a refreshing directness and subtlety to our writing. Unrhymed yet never flat, its intuitive turnings and links, especially between stanzas, empower its brevity through suggestion. The tanka is a refreshing cup of awakening meant to be shared. ~Larry Smith On the road to Columbus sunlight warms bright fields of corn, soy, alfalfa. Old tunes on car radio hold each moment longer. ~Larry Smith ******************* The Haiku: Author's Statement The short-form poem is a kind of lens: the haiku brings into precise focus the natural world, the senryu more the world of human interaction and events.

Writing haiku has honed my attention and prompted me to pause and look at the world more closely. Haiku is a pared lyric nugget usually composed of two parts: a fragment and associated phrase. The poem captures the kind of moment that wakes our senses, our spirit, our intellect, but not always in words. Ideally, it gives that moment words, yet at the same time leaves the sense of something ineffable, something yet to be named or discovered. In line with the English Language Haiku (ELH) convention, what matters is not syllable count and number of lines. My intention is to ground the short-form poem in concise, direct language, musicality, and concrete, sensory imagery. The core of the poem is the tangible image. The lens zooms in on a subjectsome element of nature or human behaviorfor a close view, then moves to focus on a comparative or contrasting image.

The aim is a perceptual shift from one part of the poem to the other: a juxtaposition of fragment and phrase. If that shift engenders surprise or a new awareness, for both the poet and the reader, the poem has done its best work. ~Barbara Sabol the corner beggar his blue eyes like my father's * * * glass lake trailing my fingers through the clouds ~Barbara Sabol.