Sunday 21 February 2021

Five Poems by Christine Tabaka


Lost Pleasantries 


It very well may be …

If you allow me …

The politeness of words continue.


A riddle, a game.

They are all the same.

We have not come so far.


Is the answer the question,

or the question a ruse?


We all abide our time.

There is no reason or rhyme.


In the beginning,

the end is near,

yet that is what we all fear


The page, dog-eared and marked,

turned so gingerly.


The journey on which we embark,

is not for all to see.


And, words once so polite,

now crumpled on the floor,


while correctness and etiquette

go flying out the door.  


*   Published by Free Lit Magazine, September 2018



Darkness Unfolds


It’s Friday night.

The wolves have devoured their

portion. Now it’s time for the

scavengers to come out and feed.


Ignoring a distant storm,

eyes close, ears shut. Pain

forgotten, but not erased.


Beyond all comprehension

night breaks through the

dawn, with only so much

salvation to go around.


The smallness of our lives,

filled with such desires and

greed.  Yearning for

Friday night once again.


*   Published by The Rye Whiskey Review, May 2019



Dust to Dust


Apple pie mornings,

childhood scraped knee,

take me away again.


Words spoken in secret

to ears that won’t hear

rattle around in the wind.


Once upon a times

don’t exist anymore,

the universe swallowed them whole.


Hand held friendships

hopscotch off,

chalk washed clean with tears.


Distant moves,

letters few, then none.

Woeful news arrives.


Missed laughter,

tucked beneath the earth.

Another venerable sidekick

dances with the dust.


*   Published by The Pangolin Review, April 2019



No Turning Back


Parting rivers.

Parting ways.

The truth laid bare

at my feet


Deep dark secrets hide

within converging storms.

A cadence of emotions

marching by.


My words are not your words.

We speak in different tongues.

It is as if you know the answer

before the question is posed.


You know me so well

yet not at all.

Fragments of life

falling into oblivion.


Forlorn and forgotten,

forsaken and lost.

Death closes the door

that love once opened.


Parting ways,

there is no turning back.

Time does not allow

such luxuries as that.


*   Published by Ariel Chart, June 2018


 Nursery Rhymes


A childhood full of nursery rhymes,

as violent as her past.


Restless sleep with monsters

under her bed.


Nightmares fill her days,

as memories creep back in.


Now morbid, unreal images

wake her in the night.


Her heart races wildly,

as sweat pours from her brow.


Forgive, she has done,

forget as she tries,

feelings never really go away.


She has learned to live with them,

but it is not an easy task.


Time does not heal,

it merely blunts the pain.


Fear is the real enemy,

as demons battle on.


Reliving a childhood

full of nursery rhymes.


 *   Published by The Sirens Call, August 2019

Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She is the winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year, her bio is featured in the “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020,” published by Sweetycat Press. Chris has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from numerous publications. Her work has been translated into Sequoyah-Cherokee Syllabics, and into Spanish. She is the author of 13 poetry books. She has been published micro-fiction anthologies and short story publications.  Christine lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and four cats. Her most recent credits are: The American Writers Review, The Scribe Magazine, The Phoenix, Burningword Literary Journal, Muddy River Poetry Review, The Silver Blade, Silver Birch Press, Pomona Valley Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Foliate Oak Review, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore.                         


1 comment:

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