TANKA TAKE HOME — 3rd June, 2026 Featuring poet: Tracy Davidson
- Firdaus Parvez

- Jun 3
- 3 min read
hosts: Firdaus Parvez, Kala Ramesh, Priti Aisola & Suraja Menon Roychowdhury
Introducing a new perspective to our Wednesday Feature!
3rd June, 2026
poet of the month: Tracy Davidson
my fingers
trace the scar
along your sternum
across the heart
that wasn't yours
A Hundred Gourds, 2012
I cannot take in
what the doctor tells me
in hushed tones...
something about your organs
and time running out
A Hundred Gourds, 2013
the busker sings it
better than the Beatles
I still miss
all our yesterdays
your ashes in my backpack
Honourable Mention, 2023 Sanford Goldstein Contest
reveille
the bugler's last note lingers
in the silence
as far as eye can see
rows of white crosses
Third Place, 2025 Sanford Goldstein Contest
some scars lie deeper
than can ever be seen...
the other mourners
mistake my tears for grief
instead of joy
Third Place, 2019 San Francisco International Competition
long drought
our prayers for rain
go unanswered
the one cloud on the horizon
mushroom-shaped and growing
(Honourable Mention, 2014 Tanka Society of America Contest)
We thank Tracy warmly for sharing her poems and for her thoughtful responses to our questions.
Q1.
TTH: Do you come from a literary background? What writers did you enjoy reading as a child? Did you write as a child?
TD: I don't come from a literary background. My favourite writer as a child was Enid Blyton. I happily lost myself in her Magic Faraway Tree series, along with The Naughtiest Girl in School (the complete opposite to me!), Malory Towers and The Secret Seven. I loved writing stories as a child, English lessons were always my favourite. A big shout out to my English teacher, Mrs Jones, for her gentle encouragement, knowing how shy I was.
More about the poet:
Tracy Davidson lives in Warwickshire, England, and writes poetry and flash fiction. Her work has appeared in various publications and anthologies, including: Poet's Market, Mslexia, Modern Haiku, Femku, A Hundred Gourds, The Binnacle, Black Hare Press, Shooter, Journey to Crone, The Great Gatsby Anthology, WAR, and In Protest: 150 Poems for Human Rights.
Your Challenge this Week:
Each tanka tells a story (a sad one that squeezes the heart) and Tracy so artfully leaves blanks for the reader to step in and fill them with their imagination. When the writer allows the reader to participate, the poem or story reaches deeper and is remembered long after it has been read. So the challenge for this week is to write about "goodbye'. It's not all about death, you can make it whatever you want. Tell the story and let us fill in some blanks.
Have fun!
And remember – tanka, because of those two extra lines, lends itself most beautifully when revealing a story. And tanka prose is storytelling.
Give these ideas some thought and share your tanka and tanka-prose with us here. Keep your senses open, observe things that happen around you and write. You can post tanka and tanka-prose outside of these themes as well.
PLEASE NOTE
1. Post only one poem at a time, only one per day.
2. Only 2 tanka and two tanka-prose per poet per prompt.
Tanka art, of course, if you want to.
3. Share your best-polished pieces.
4. Please do not post something in a hurry or something you have just written. Let it simmer for a while.
5. Post your final edited version on top of your original verse.
6. Don't forget to give feedback on others' poems.
We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished tanka and tanka-prose (within 250 words) to be considered for inclusion in the haikuKATHA monthly magazine.

What powerful tanka shared by Tracy! Thanks Firdaus for bringing these to Triveni. 👌💕
the bell
that rings
the bell …
mother's flashbulb memory
Gandhi ji's Hey Ram
Kala Ramesh #1
The LIST IS UP!
Congratulations to all our poets in the June issue of haikuKATHA!
https://www.trivenihaikai.in/post/celebration
#2, 9/6/26
I watch the wind
lash at the kite
hanging limply
by a thread from the tree...
my tea, now cold
Baisali Chatterjee Dutt, India
#1
this is how
it always is- your footsteps
walking away
leaving a chill behind
fading echoes of spring
Suraja Menon Roychowdhury, USA