TANKA TAKE HOME — 6th May, 2026 Featuring poet: Stacey Dye
- Firdaus Parvez
- May 6
- 2 min read
hosts: Firdaus Parvez, Kala Ramesh, Priti Aisola & Suraja Menon Roychowdhury
Introducing a new perspective to our Wednesday Feature!
6th May, 2026
poet of the month: Stacey Dye
coloring
outside the lines
shades
of gray and black—
my shadow on paper
red lights, June 2013
another day
another test—
life pulls
thread after thread
until I unravel
Moonbathing, Spring/Summer 2022
dandelion
caught in a current—
wishes
unspoken
lost to the wind
AHA The Anthology 2012
We thank Stacey warmly for sharing her poems and for her thoughtful responses to our questions.
Q.1
TTH: Do you come from a literary background? What writers did you enjoy reading as a child? Did you write as a child?
SD: No, I don’t come from a formal literary background. My primary literary journeys were from the classics I read in high school. To Kill a Mockingbird, Moby Dick, The Yearling…things like that.
As a child it was authors of children’s and teen’s books. Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume.
I did not write as a child. My experience with self-expression came much later in life.
About the poet in her own words:
I’ve loved words forever. I collect them on rocks, jewelry and tokens. I began to write poetry over ten years ago. I started with free verse and ultimately found I loved tanka. It is a wonderful release for my feelings and emotions. I live in South Georgia, USA with my husband Dennis, my cat Frankie and dog Happy.
Your Challenge this Week:
Shadow on paper, life unravelling thread by thread, unspoken wishes lost ... there's a story unfolding in these lovely tanka. Therein lies your challenge. Find your own journey.
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.
#1
Impermanence of Love
Just now she drives her scooter by my teashop, loaded with the sacks of her stuff. She runs a convenient store next to my teashop. Six months ago, she had shown her rudeness by publicly asking me to pay for her milk that I bought on credit the other day. I didn't like her tone. After sometimes, I hear she is in love with a married man with three children. The man works as a chauffeur in nearby wealthy man's mansion.
I come to know that the landlady has evicted her family from shutter qual. An ugliest scene is created by her lover's first wife. She comes to the store with a pink gang, looking…
#2 11/05
the day starts
with sunlight
rising into the sky
like a yellow butterfly
I search for your fragrance
Fatma Zohra Habis/Algeria
#2
defending its territory
a hummingbird
chases a butterfly
who is David who is Goliath
a battle to be fought
barbara olmtak
The Netherlands
May 11th,2026
Picture and tanka by barbara olmtak
Gembun with tanka
11.5.26
what did my father leave me …
chilly winter—
alone in the family home
I sew together
worn-out pieces of my childhood
into a memory quilt
Mona Bedi
India
Feedback appreciated:)
Tanka Prose #2
11.05.2026
Kālāya Tasmai Namaḥ
He makes a living pulling at people—turning them into punchlines beneath stage lights and bursts of laughter. Sometimes, he folds me into his routines too, speaking as though I were a prop he could casually own, a familiar object in his comic inventory.
At times, I laugh along. Other times, I let the words pass without giving them weight. Still, he continues—returning to the same teasing orbit, as though waiting for the day I might finally respond with seriousness instead of dismissal.
this human sea—
voices changing shape
to draw you near;
still, you sail on humming
into the headwind
And then, somewhere within that endless tu-tu-main-main storm of banter and ego, something…