Written in one of my favorite forms.. the tankabun... A story of growing up blind and realizing some things do not change with time...
Perceptions are what they are and usually very flawed..))
Breath to Ink (a tankabun)
Words await her touch
Inviting her spirit's sigh
Seeking her heartbeat
She heeds the enticing call
Opens her world, frees her mind
But she feels the stares, the odd looks, and hears the whispers. She hears too the snickers indicating pure disdain, or at best, a complete lack of understanding. Why the undisguised mockery, the obviously incorrect perception of her inferiority, and the misguided need to pity her even as they seem to enjoy her torment? She shrugs, and with the slightest shake of her head, she brings words closer. Nose to page. Breath to ink. Heart to soul. And she reads. The snickers, the stares, and the not-so-silent pity fade into the shadows. She wonders though if they realize she is aware of their thoughts. The pretended indifference. The almost shameful gratitude that they are not her. She wonders if they are aware of her own thoughts and how grateful she is to be not them.
when I saw your title it made me stop to take a look and I am glad I did-I like what you have to say here as it is often the way I feel personally but have learned to simply be myself and forge ahead tho I know at least for me it can be a rough road--still I like what you had to say here--well done
Lovely! Like it! Made me smile!
Tanka is my favourite type of writing poems... last decade.
takes a lot of discipline, ability to use alternative
phrases, since the originally thought never fit.
And to make it looooong as a bun/train... is a time consuming, hard
work... not appreciated at AD...I guess... looking at the comments.
Today, I'm posting a comment on your poem, to illustrate it!
With warm regards. Isabella.
A powerful introspective on discrimination and intolerance. Based on my own experience, we who are disabled have one up on the bigoted, set in their ways of superstition and exclusion. We are free to think and read and write our thoughts. They will never understand from our perspective and are the lesser for it.
Excellent, Myra! I, for one, have always, as far back as I can remember had an affinity for the blind. I also have developed a dread of ever being so afflicted. Not all of those out here are cruel, but there are more than should be.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Tanka is my favourite type of writing poems... last decade.
takes a lot of discipline, ability to use alternative
phrases, since the originally thought never fit.
And to make it looooong as a bun/train... is a time consuming, hard
work... not appreciated at AD...I guess... looking at the comments.
Today, I'm posting a comment on your poem, to illustrate it!
With warm regards. Isabella.
Ron
Cheers moi spp
Dan
budd