New poems by Nick Cooke, Joyce Walker and Andy Scotson, a collaborative tanka conversation by the Poetry Space online group, and individual tankas by Leela Gautam, Denni Turp, Betty Hasler, Judy Dinnen, Patricia Brody, Marion Horton, Sue Knights and Susan Jane Sims.
Cherry Blossoms in Kyoto, by Susan Jane Sims – watercolour.
Reflections on the Old Testament
— Nick Cooke 2025
IThe millionth circle of Hellmust exist somewhereeven if only in the mind of Godwhose tissue is (naturally) fireproof.There being no end to tormentsets Man obliquely upfor special achievement in the field of inhumanityundreamt of by an inferno-free mind.That human yen to internaliseextends beyond the Miltonicand even the Satanic –for the horn-head can’t be blamed, nor Adam,as the sulphurous fumes taken inare let loose, dragon-likeon this world (forgetting the next) –it was all those teeth-gnashing admonitionsthat marshalled the otherwise elysian imaginationtoward Zyklon and leather,napalm and sarin,and every cog in the death-machine acting together.Don’t want evil? Don’t send locusts.Keep vengeance as a last resort, not the main focus.Intend to convey the power of Good?Leave Job in peace, save Noah from the flood…IICan’t you see the spot you put me in,me who had to preach the turning of the cheek?My existence was your failure:you neither deterred the malicious nor fortified the weak –you and your precious Wordcounted for little in the teeth of the curses they’d heardand the upshot was Sodom and Gomorra,studies in the purest of horror,as even your most ardent supporters averred.Nonetheless, not my will but thy will be done.Thou who chose not to be the undisputedly indivisible Onebut split thyself into threeand took on a deputyto resume a war that otherwise couldn’t be won.IIIO Lord, forgive the petulant tonebut it’s better I unleash all this now, utterly alone,and await your answer amid the sandbags of my mind,than have future heathen hordes rejoice to findthe Pentecostal tongue transformed to stone.Above it all I recogniseo’erarching faith as the only true responseto quibbles, carps and outright lies;but how desirable to banish onceand for all the least point of surmise,before my drama bids the apostles’ curtain rise.
Daughter of the Dance
— Joyce Walker 2025
I am the daughter of the dance,Light on my feet,Tip-toeing over mountains.Skating frozen lakes,Arms and hips swayingLike a gentle breeze through trees.The daughter of the dance,Watch me moveAnd I’m sure you’ll fall in love withThe daughter of the dance.
Bank Holidays
— Andy Scotson 2025
Fireworks somewhere burst with distant crashes and invisible flashes August again.A blink of light as a plane crosses the sliding terraced street. Constant hum of television and foreign voices from windows open to the receding heat. In that last year plums on the nearer tree arrived early. Branches thick with heavy fruit as summer burned bright and long. Purple fruit fell with heavy thuds on grass burnt and dieing. A harvest ignored as rotting fruit lies on arid earth, the trunk ever taller prepares for autumn and then naked winter once more.
A Tanka conversation by the Poetry Space online group – inspired by a recent visit to Japan, Susan suggested the group try writing tankas together, each poet adding to the last.
A Tanka Conversation
— The Poetry Space online group 2025
Soft as they leave youLike Spring snow swirls, melts to EarthWhite petals fall, fall.settle on the frozen eartha fleece whispering of warmthTime is just a loop—bright seeds like snow mass May air,dance new life to ground.In amongst the drystone wallsCrows feathers, the new lamb bleats.The wall is a poemwraps round the town of my youthRoman stones rhyme timewhisper secrets of age pastto a soft caressing breeze.Moon shadows dissolveDay nudges the trees awakeThey sing in our dreamsWeaving wisdom, trilling hope,fresh stories rise from old truths.Body check, mind check.Head, shoulders, knees, toesThat kiddies’ nursery rhymeUnder the moon we followGood night Children, Good night Moon!
Poets in the conversation above are Patricia Brody, Betty Hasler, Johanna Boal, Judy Dinnen, Leela Gautam, Sue Knights, Marion Horton, Denni Turp and Susan Jane Sims (not in writing order). A tanka follows a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable pattern: the first three lines make an observation, often rooted in nature, and the final two reflect on what has come before. We enjoyed ourselves so much that we tried another, with poets jumping in when they felt inspired.
A Tanka Conversation (continued)
— The Poetry Space online group 2025
This time it’s the Poemto rise from green, drifting tidesWe’ll just add salt.See where it goes for a timeWords swirling, shaping themselves.Probing for answersto the unspoken questions,dormant in our souls.Which window shall we open?What picture shall we unveil?The curtains draw back –ebb and flow, now flow and ebb,searching through the years –Look, we find our stories hereThe waves roll in with our words.Every fact we read,each person we encounterchanges us daily.Researching the marine liferespect locals – in the sea.
A selection of individual tankas
Tanka
— Leela Gautam 2025
Passersby pause, gazeat the cascade of yellow,The broom in full bloom.Light seeps into the shadow,Mind clears, eyes adjust, heart feels.
Tanka
— Denni Turp 2025
Bird song overwhelmed–crash of recycling trollieslorry loud in sun.Glad for their raucous efforts,realise every little helps.
Tanka
— Denni Turp 2025
Cool breeze curtain danceto early morning bird songcaptured in high trees.I pause and breathe more slowly,smile and wait to greet the day.
Bonfire in autumn
— Betty Hasler 2025
Bonfire in autumn.Smoke carries the discardedinto a bare skyand over land, to the sea.A haiku of geese flies by.Expanse of black fields.Trees contorted by the winddrop infrequent leaves,speckle dark earth orange and gold.Mist hangs heavy, soaks the air.Dusk creeps along fieldssmothering the shape of things.Colours disappear.Draw curtains as night arrivesFire in the hearth gives comfort.
Our WhatsApp group is dying
— Judy Dinnen 2025
Dreams birthdays holidays gaspHe preaches she seethesTexts choke stumble and stutter.fizzle drizzle gasp and wilt,app expires, strangled by love.
Shyla
— Patricia Brody 2025
Newborn at the breastas if you’ve climbed a mountainWhose peak is your blissLove flows to you, milk-blue tideNow our daughter, your mother.
Tanka
— Marion Horton 2025
Ring of evensongFour goldfinches dart belowGreen baize surrounds usSafe in the base of the bowlThe hills guard our little lives.
Passing
— Sue Knights 2025
Stream slips past, whispers,a wren shouts sweet throat glory,ghosts of hope float by.To turn my back on beautyis an empty sacrifice.
Tanka
— Susan Jane Sims 2025
Weetabix soaked in warm milk,Pain au Chocolat.Floor dotted with pastry flakes,Nanna’s breakfast with the girls;an unsurpassed weekend treat.
About the editor
Poet, editor and artist, Susan Jane Sims has been running Poetry Space since 2010. She has three collections to her name and has edited or joint-edited many anthologies. Poetry Space is a social enterprise operating from Susan’s home in Beaminster, Dorset, where she is also a chef in the food and arts business she runs with her husband Chris (Tangerine Cafe & Gallery). She has been a poet in schools for many years, a judge in a regional heat of The Poetry by Heart competition and a Hawthornden Fellow in 2018. Susan loves nothing better than bringing people together with community events; her latest venture is a monthly collage group supported by Dorset START.
