Eucalypt      Reviews

 

With its 20th issue, Eucalypt has turned 10.

Review of Eucalypt 20 by Julie Thorndyke (Australia) in Presence 57 March 2017

Review of Eucalypt 20 by Sylvia Florin (Australia) in Ribbons 12 (3) Fall 2016 Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 20 by Patricia Prime (NZ) in Atlas Poetica 26, 2016 Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 19 by Linda Jeannette Ward (USA) in Skylark 4:1, Summer 2016 Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 18 by David Terelinck (Australia) Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 17 by Patricia Prime (New Zealand) in Atlas Poetica 21, 2015 Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 16 by Dorothy McLaughlin (USA) for Eucalypt e-news.  Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 15 by Claire Everett in Blithe Spirit 24 (3) 2014 pp.75-79  Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 14 by Claire Everett (UK) in Skylark 1:2 Winter 2013 pp. 120-126   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 13 by André Surridge (NZ) in Kokako 18, 2013 pp.51-53   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 12 by David Terelinck in Blithe Spirit 23 (1), 2013 pp.59-63   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 10 by Owen Bullock (NZ) in Kokako 15, 2011 pp.60-61   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 9 by Patricia Prime (NZ) in Haiku NewZ, the New Zealand Poetry Society web-site, February 2011.   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 8 by Maria Steyn (South Africa) in Five Bells 17 (4) Spring 2010 pp. 164-166   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 8 by Patricia Prime (NZ) in a fine line: the Magazine of the New Zealand Poetry Society November 2010 pp. 12-13   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 7 by Patricia Prime (NZ) in Another Lost Shark [temporarily hosting for Stylus].   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 6 by by Annette Mineo (USA) in five bells: Australian poetry vol. 17 Nos 1&2 2010 pp. 165-168.   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 6 by Matthew Paul (United Kingdom) in Presence #40 pp. 42-43.

Review of Eucalypt 6 by Owen Bullock (New Zealand) in Takahe 68, 2009   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 6 by Tony Beyer (New Zealand) in Kokako 10 April 2009 pp. 49-51   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 5 by Kathy Kituai in Five Bells 16 (2&3) Autumn/Winter 2009 pp. 144-46   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 5 by Larry Kimmel (USA) in Ribbons 5 (1) Spring 2009 pp. 40-42   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 5 by Maria Steyn (South Africa) in Modern English Tanka MET vol 3 no 3 Spring 2009 pp. 227-231

Review of Eucalypt 5 by Patricia Prime in Stylus January 2009

Review of Eucalypt 4 by Jenny Barnard, published in five bells 15 (3) 2008 pp. 56-57

Review of Eucalypt 4 by Kirsty Karkow, published in Kokako 9 2008 pp. 50-52 [NZ]

Review of Eucalypt 4 by Tom Clausen, published in Ribbons 4 (2) Summer 2008 pp. 47-49

Review of Eucalypt 4 by Cathy Drinkwater Better published in Modern English Tanka 2 (4) Summer 2008 pp. 242-244

Review of Eucalypt 4 by Carole MacRury in Famous Reporter #37 2008 pp. 146-47.   Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 4 by Patricia Prime in Stylus July 2008

Review of Eucalypt 3 by Lynne Rees in Blithe Spirit 18 (2) 2008 pp 52-55

Review of Eucalypt 3 by Margaret Bradstock [Australia] in Mascara issue 4. Read a copy here

Review of Eucalypt 3 by Julie Thorndyke in five bells 15 (1) Summer 2008. Read a copy here

Book Note in five bells: Australian Poetry 14 (2) autumn 2007

Book Note by Martin Lucas in Presence No. 32, 2007

Review by Thelma Mariano in Ribbons  3 (3) Autumn 2007.   Read a copy here

Review by Linda Jeannette Ward in Gusts; 6 Fall/Winter 2007.   Read a copy here

Review by Jan Dean in five bells: Australian Poetry 14 (2) autumn 2007.   Read a copy here

Review by Kirsty Karkow in Stylus Poetry Journal No 25, April 2007.

Review by Doreen King in New Hope International Review

Book Note by Michael McClintock in Modern English Tanka Volume 1, Number 3. Spring 2007.

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Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal (Issue 1, 2006)
Edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Jan Dean


Eucalypt is the first Australian literary journal entirely devoted to tanka. Its subtle green cover with a horizontal photograph by the editor, Beverley George, features blemished eucalyptus leaves which brings to mind the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi, the appreciation of transient beauty. In his book Wabi-Sabi: for Artists, Designers, Poets and Philosophers, Leonard Koren describes this aesthetic as an acceptance of the ‘ imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete’. While advocates of this concept would typically select aged parchment or motley paper with a ‘tooth’, the paper used for Eucalypt is smooth and unflawed, and it appeals to the tactile and visual senses: the print hovers slightly above the page, capturing shimmer when moved under a light. It is a sumptuous presentation for an impressive collection.

Beverley George is an award-winning poet. Her son Matthew has designed the layout to include one, two or three, occasionally four tanka per page, so that surrounding space gives each tanka due importance.

Constraints of the tanka form give rise to diverse and surprising approaches: while the first three lines are anchored in precise, everyday observation, the final two often flow into profound and/or philosophical thought, as in . . .

awakening
feeling almost invisible
at my age
a sense of expecting
to float away on the tide . . .           —
Melissa Dixon (Canada)

This extended metaphor captures the human condition at the point of a heightened awareness of encroaching age. In a similar vein, there is…

a wave-rolled
posidonia ball . . .
I wade
the shoreline
at the same slow pace
          — John Barlow (England)

and

it’s here we built
sand palaces in my youth,
each drip castle
shaped by supple fingers —
the ones that fail me now
          — an’ya (USA).

Speaking with charm, A Thiagarajan of India, employs humour that mocks lovingly:

classical dancer
performing
but all my wife sees
are her earrings
dancing in each movement


Incorporating emotion into its concise form, a tanka is lyrical, expressing insight through careful observation akin to meditation.

Of the nine countries represented in Eucalypt, almost half are Australian contributions. Although I like to think of myself as a citizen of the world, in the interests of balance and patriotism, I can’t resist quoting three of my countrymen…

childhood lovers
chew raw sugarcane
discard dry fibres —
recalling that sweetness
I stir my tea slowly
          — Ellen Weston

struggling,
the clean doona cover
is fitted
I remember your white arms
pummelling a feather bed
          — Marian Morgan

mangoes on our tree
hang, ripe and rounded,
flushed with sun,
when you return tonight
their scent will fill the garden
          — Maxwell Ryan

Ah, the joys and sorrows of relationships! Fresh linen, sugarcane, mango; assaulting our senses; they’re all part of this collection, along with exuberance, nostalgia and melancholy, human frailty and resistance. It is a privilege to share the worlds of others. The number of tanka devotees is growing. Mainstream poets would have much to gain by exposure to the delights of Eucalypt.

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Jan Dean, a former visual arts teacher, lives at Cardiff Lake Macquarie. Her poetry collection, With One Brush, won the Best First Book section of the IP Picks (Interactive Press, Brisbane) 2007 competition, and is due for release this Spring (October/November).



This Review was first published in five bells: Australian Poetry 14 (2) autumn 2007. It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Jan Dean and the editor of five bells.

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Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal
Edited by Beverley George (editor@eucalypt.info)
Biannual, May and November.   Subscriptions: US$30 (USA, Canada, Europe)

Book Review by Linda Jeannette Ward for Gusts  6 Fall/Winter 2007

Beverley George's Australian journal Eucalypt is devoted exclusively to tanka, with its silky pages befitting the flowing, elusive nature of this poetic form. With the recent release of Issue 2, George is assisted by Julie Thorndyke, and has increased the number of tanka and contributors while maintaining the high standard of quality that she brought to Issue 1.

The tanka published in Eucalypt are arranged according to surprising associations that prompted this reader to reread the poems for the joy of finding new connections and deeper meanings each time. This touch reflects dedication to the art and craft of editing we came to appreciate during the years of George's publication of Yellow Moon, an Australian literary magazine. It's rare for a poet with such exceptional gifts as George to also excel as an editor, but in the pages of Eucalypt you'll find that it is so.

From Issue 1, this wonderful synchronicity of tanka by poets who were inspired by crimson touched rocks.

the sounds
of a cat grooming itself
in Tunisia
all the cobble-stones
are on fire with sunset

Mariko Kitakubo, Japan


shiny black blobs
on wet jagged rocks
touched with red
an oyster-catcher's cry
tears holes in the canvas

M L Grace, Australia


Issue 2 seems to offer more variety in content and arrangement of form than Issue 1, with poems placed two to four per page. George and Thorndyke somehow manage to select tanka that reflect the lyrical quality of this literary tradition while allowing for variance in syllable count in its English expression. From two veteran tanka poets:

all the cliches
spill
at table
and even this silence
expected

Sanford Goldstein, Japan


"thinking of SG"

you speak often
of spilling five lines down
I imagine
a five-tiered waterfall
read by the sun

Larry Kimmel, USA


With Eucalypt, I find reading tanka can be as fulfilling as writing this enticing form, with poems that stay with you long after...

even the kiss
I would have long forgotten
if the stars
had not been out in the sky
so bright and unexpected

Patricia Prime, New Zealand


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This Review was first published in Gusts  6 Fall/Winter 2007. It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Linda Jeannette Ward and the editor of Gusts.

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Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal (Issue 3, 2008)
Edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Julie Thorndyke


To launch a new quality poetry journal is an achievement – to sustain a high standard of publication and content into the third issue is remarkable. From a seed of an idea, to a sapling and now a solid and vital young tree, Eucalypt Issue three has done just that. This new journal is a delight to read, a pleasure to hold in the hand, and each page brims with poems to savour in the heart.

Eighty poets from eight countries (USA, Japan, UK, Australia, NZ, China, Canada, and South Africa) shine in this top-notch collection of tanka. Beverley George has done poets in Australia a huge service by employing her extensive international poetry network to establish a publication platform in our own country that encourages new writers in this genre and places their work side-by-side with internationally renowned English-language tanka poets.

The leading poem by Michael Thorley, presented against an evocative black and white photograph, sets the tone. His understated lament of lost love takes a classic tanka shape. Complete with a pivot in the third line, ‘the dry heart’ of both the landscape and the poem’s persona demonstrates expert use of the common tanka device of mirroring emotional states with natural phenomena. Thorley builds to a crescendo in the fourth and fifth lines: ‘too full of memories / to go back alone.’

Nature themed poems follow in the next pages, leading to a change of pace in Cathy Altman’s ‘red flush / of the dying sun’ that then dives thematically into family relationships. The thread is taken up by Sanford Goldstein’s grandfather poem, and carried on by poems on generational continuity by Carole Macrury, Irene Golas and Linda Jeanette Ward.

George’s editorial skill shines throughout this collection, not only for the high bar she sets in acceptance criteria for the journal, but also for the artful way she has grouped the tanka thematically, so that the poems resonate against each other almost like short, themed sequences.

Some sly Christmas warmth sneaks in on pages 8 and 9, but without any trace of sentimentality. Ellen Weston’s dry

time wasted
in being good
for a myth –
Santa never comes
to our nursing home

is an example of modern tanka that is unafraid to cut to the chase and make a social statement.

Distant voices link Maria Steyn’s masterful work from South Africa

a distant roar
of lions from the plains
father’s steady voice
telling childhood stories
by the fires’ warmth

with another wistful offering from Michael Thorley. Death makes a quiet entrance in

wind-beaten ferns
against the rocks
the dry whispers
of night nurses
withdrawing care
Terra Martin (p.14)

and the beautifully oblique meditation on mortality

your strong stride
carries you further away
my sadness
at the bones of a slow death
caught by its foot in the fence

by Australian Lorraine Haig on p.22 emphasises the distance between all things, living or dead, no matter which species or modality of thought we travel in.

Japanese poets are also represented in the journal, as in this soulful tanka:

there is no way
but that one carries
one’s own burden
I walk
in the dimness of day
Aya Yuhki (p.27)

The themes and images of this collection are many and various: dawn, seasons, clouds, parenthood, generational change, parents, Christmas, piano practice, age, infirmity, death, lions, chooks, cats, Life with a capital ‘L’– all in little dart-like poems that effortlessly find their mark in the reader’s sensibility.

War, drought, love desire – all follow, but the collection finishes on an upbeat note with the wry, self-depreciating humour of Lesley Walter’s ‘creative cook’ with writer’s block, and Barbara Fisher’s

lying in bed
this rainy morning
I’m glad
a walk is utterly
out of the question

There is a boom in English language tanka publishing internationally, and many new poets are adopting this short form. Eucalypt ranks highly in this up-swell of tanka publications and is a worthy ambassador for Australia poetry overseas. One of the qualities of Eucalypt that appeals to me tremendously is that Beverley George has resisted the temptation to editorialise. There is no introduction, comment or commentary from the editor, although her skill, taste and impeccable judgement are everywhere evident in this issue.

The alphabetical index of poets at the back of the journal is a role-call of the cream of contemporary tanka writers in English – and inclusion of the country of origin gives an instant overview of the geographic coverage of this high quality journal. Even here, in the index, maximum information is given with minimal clutter. As in good tanka, less is more.

There are many shimmering leaves on this poetry tree: and a great number of them are from our own Australian tanka writers.



This Review was first published in five bells: Australian Poetry 15 (1) Summer 2008. It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Julie Thorndyke and the editor of five bells.

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Eucalypt, A Tanka Journal, issue 4 2008, issn: 1833-8186, edited by Beverley George, illustrated by Pim Sarti and Kathryn Harrison, 44 pages, A5 size, 4.75 x 8.25 inches (15x21 cm) saddle-stitched. Two issues per year, May and November.

Reviewed by Carole MacRury



With this fourth edition of Eucalypt, editor Beverley George has once more convinced me that good things come in small packages and that less is often more. The cool green cover design appeals to the sense of touch and one almost feels that if you pressed your nose to the pages you might catch the lingering scent of eucalyptus. The artful cover design of Matthew George is an invitation to savor 41 pages of carefully selected poetry from a total of 89 poets from Australia, New Zealand, US, Canada, Britain, South Africa, France, India, Japan and China. Two, three and up to four poems, are placed on each page, but staggered in different ways to keep the mind engaged and to provide relief for the eyes. The editor wisely accepts no more than two poems per poet and sets the bar high for quality and diversity in style and voice.

With consummate skill this poet/editor has managed to merge poems in such a way that while each gem of poetry is enjoyed on its own, they graze slightly off each other in theme and/or mood. But even more, the last verse echoes back to the first verse which immediately invites another complete reading of the book.
First Poem

all at once
I crave newspaper, kindling
a lighted match –
such strange intuition
knowing when to move on

Gillian Telford
  Last Poem

the shelducks’ prints
flatten into mud. . .
everyone I love
leaves traces
traces

John Barlow
Who can not see and feel the spark of the match, both real and metaphorically in Gillian’s poem about the intuitive urge to leave the present and move into the future. It’s about new beginnings, knowing when to let go, knowing when to walk away leaving the ashes of the old life behind. John’s poem contrasts objective imagery with a reflective response reminding us that nothing is ever completely left behind, that memories are carried with us and fragments can re-surface at the slightest moment.
late summer
in the garden
just before dusk
touching plants, leaves, flowers
as I never touched you

Margaret Chula
  a robin's
shiny black head
in the rain
Mussorgsky
on the stereo

M. Kei
The confessional honesty of Margaret Chula’s poem strikes to the bone with its evocative setting and superb final line. This poem about a personal realization is placed strategically in the center of the book. M. Kei’s poem reminds us that not all tanka need be about personal insights. His striking and sensory juxtaposition offers the reader a visual and auditory experience. Who could not sink into the mood suggested by the wet darkness of a robin’s head and the darkness of the music of a Russian composer?

Throughout the journal, the editor skillfully weaves a pattern of voices and themes that offer the very best of writing skills; originality, unique insights, vivid imagery, concise writing and dynamic word choices.


Carole MacRury is a Canadian poet and photographer residing in Point Roberts, Washington. She is affiliated with the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival, serves as secretary/treasurer of the Tanka Society of America, is a member of haiku and tanka associations in Canada and the US. Her poetry is published internationally and her photography has been featured on the covers of Ribbons and Modern Haiku.

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Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal
Edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Thelma Mariano


Eucalypt , Australia's first tanka journal, was named after the “gum tree” indigenous to this region. Distinctive groupings of this tree grow in different areas of Australia, shaped by the climate and terrain where they live. So too are the poems, over 100 in number, which are clustered according to subject and tone, blending themes of nature with poignant moments in our evolving human lives.

      Each well-crafted tanka has been carefully selected to flow one from the other like an orchestrated waterfall. The strategic placement of poems on glossy pages, interspersed with artwork reflecting the natural world, creates excellent visual variety.

      The journal itself, edited by Beverley George, is A5 size, measuring 5.75" x 8.25" and saddle-stitched. Its cover is a soothing green, graced by a photograph of eucalypt leaves on the front. It's a handsome book that can be easily tucked into a bag or purse for further reflection. Many of its contributing poets hail from Australia, giving it an authentic flavor. I recommend Eucalypt to anyone who loves tanka and is looking for a journal that truly captures the aesthetics of the form.


Thelma Mariano


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This Review was first published in in Ribbons  3 (3) Autumn 2007. It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Thelma Mariano and the editor of Ribbons.

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Eucalypt: a tanka journal. Issue 5, 2008. Edited by Beverley George.

Reviewed by Larry Kimmel




What a treat to the eye! What a delight to the hand! Eucalypt is a beautifully produced magazine. Previous reviewers have noted its “cool green,” semi-gloss cover with a “muted” photo of eucalyptus leaves; its pure white, “silky” pages; its clean Optima font; and its satisfying layout, using two to three tanka, sometimes four, per page, staggered to give each tanka its due prominence — all qualities and features to be found in issue 5.

There are illustrations in among the poems, as well. Drawings by Pim Sarti and by guest artists, Lynne Ellis, Carl Ripphausen and Kathryn Harrison, provide additional appeal with text-related visuals in this 5th issue.

Bring to this the elegant design and layout talents of Matthew George along with the proven editorial skills of Beverley George, and we find a high quality journal of today’s finest English-language tanka, in a format that enhances the readers enjoyment.

Eucalypt is an international journal of tanka in English. It uses no more than two poems per poet in any given issue. In issue 5 there are 82 poets from 8 countries — Australia, USA, Canada, England, New Zealand, South Africa, Japan and China, making 122 poems to be found in its 44 numbered pages. There are no articles or reviews in this issue — only tanka.

Beverley George has been a prime mover of tanka and other short form poetry in Australia beginning with her editorship of Yellow Moon, 2000 - 2006. In 2007, she turned her focus to Eucalypt, an all-tanka journal. George is Eucalypt and Eucalypt is George, though, no doubt, Ms. George would say that Eucalypt is about the poets represented between its covers. Still, it is her selections and sequencing that make Eucalypt the superior journal it is. Of the many new outlets available to the tanka-poet, Eucalypt is certainly one of the first journals any tanka-poet would aspire to appear in.

One of the wonderful aspects of the western tanka community is that the novice is allowed to appear side by side with the seasoned and internationally renowned tanka-poets. We find this tradition in strong evidence in all the issues of Eucalypt. There is, also, a strong showing of tanka artists from the Pacific countries and from the southern hemisphere in Eucalypt issue 5, which is good to find, since so many tanka journals are centered around the North American and British communities.

Out of this diversity of new and familiar voices, George creates a flowing colloquy, bringing together similar themes, so that the time honored pageantry of human experience is brought into denser focus. Conversely, the leaps in themes between these clusters can, also, serve to heighten our awareness.

Some favorites from Eucalypt, a tanka journal, issue 5 are:

night wind
through the pine forest . . .
in her sleep
she stretches her limbs,
rolls away from me
                                    Max Ryan

a large man
holds a 26-piece BBQ set
waiting for the train
on my long journey
to reach you by christmas
                                    Jane Gibian

weeks after her death
lamplight on the night stand
and her rosary
this silence that invites me
to take up her prayers
                                    Dorothy McLaughlin

sunglow
through translucent nails
after the lesson
still feeling the music
in my fingertips
                                    Cathy Drinkwater Better

the gurgling
of Minnehaha Creek
in the shade
an old Schwinn bike
propped against an elm
                                    Bob Lucky

dust storm —
this longing to hear
the rainbird
call from a sweet thorn’s
budding branches
                                    Maria Steyn

I offer her
the gold-rimmed plate
with chocolates
instead of words
unable to say ‘chemo’ . . .
                                    Linda Galloway

Fermanagh rain . . .
the bog cannot crust
and the loch
has lost its edge
my mood darker than the stout
                                    Jon Baldwin

a closet awareness
as if my retreating life’s
in bare corners
a moth-eaten white sweater
is on a blue hanger
                                    Sanford Goldstein

the sound
of splashing in the tub!
the longing
to rush in and soap
your floating breasts and toes
                                    Kirsty Karkow

penniless
I ignore all but one
four-dollar coat
rich with night-velvet
embossed with possibility
                                    Kathy Kituai


Among the many recent tanka venues, Eucalypt promises to be one of the more enduring. Beverley George has created a winner.



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This Review was first published in in Ribbons 5 (1) Spring 2009 pp. 40-42.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Larry Kimmel,
the reviewer, and of Dave Bacharach, the editor of Ribbons.
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Eucalypt: a tanka journal. Issue 5, 2008. Edited by Beverley George.

Reviewed by Kathy Kituai




When it’s hard enough to be published as a poet in Australia, why write tanka, a Japanese five-line, lyrical form of poetry originating 1300 years ago that is still relatively unknown here? I’m sure many poets exploring this form have asked themselves this question. The consistently high standard of tanka since the first issue of Eucalypt in 2007 (and issue 5 is no exception) is answer enough to why many poets persist with this particular form. Just knowing that there is at least one Australian magazine concentrating entirely on tanka, is encouragement for those of us who write it.

But why publish such an ancient form of poetry? In the hands of experienced tankaists, of which there are many in Eucalypt, look how effortlessly tanka travels through time and thrusts us into the present moment.

sunlight soap
bleach and washing soda
her boiled linen
between sagging props
as he walks south for work

Poet, Julie Thorndyke, speaks of hard times in her tanka. We are thrust back into the Depression during the 30s, and given the economical downturn of our times, she could just as well have been writing about the present day. How apt then is her poem. It will come as no surprise to me if sunlight soap and washing soda is used instead of soap powder once again.

And it’s not only the use of present tense that creates this timelessness (most tanka is written this way). Indirectly and succinctly Thorndyke leaves us in no uncertain understanding of what’s happening, whether it be all those years ago or today. We know how the woman who hung her washing on the line feels. This simple description makes this clear; ‘her boiled linen/between sagging props’. Follow this line with: ‘as he walks south for work’, match it with the present shortage of jobs, and the reality of this last line could also be relevant in the near future.

We can time travel in many ways in tanka. A familiar swishing noise, and Kirsty Karkow plunges us back into the past.

the sound
of splashing in the tub!
the longing
to rush in and soap
your floating breasts and toes

And what a sensual place in which to arrive; a place where desire was once fulfilled. We are fully present with the poet’s longing in a matter twenty-two syllables. Nothing more needs to be said.

Given that tanka is a lyrical form, it would be quite mistaken to presume, therefore, contrasting external images must arise from nature. Tanka in this issue of Eucalypt clearly show this is not always the case.

deleting spam
I begin to wonder
which I might be …
no friends, no mortgage, no hair
short in every way
                  Bob Lucky
  a closet awareness
as if my retreating life's
in bare corners
a moth-eaten white sweater
is on a blue hanger
                  Sanford Goldstein


Where Lucky is engaged in a modern-day activity like the up-date of his email site, Goldstein reflects on the mythological bare corners in his life. Both reveal their innermost feelings through what is observed externally.

What is of interest in the following tanka by John Barlow is that fact that he cites two seemingly unrelated images, one of corpse of a hare the other the state of the moon.

in a box
on the back seat, the hare
with a broken back …
a moon a sliver short of full
slips through the night


Yet we are in no doubt as to the emotional state the poet wishes to instil within us, not only because of the way in which Barlow describes both, but the clever way in which he parallels two images without explanation. An experienced and widely published poet, Barlow trusts his reader to make the leap between the two.

You do not need to be a tankaist to enjoy the poetry published in Eucalypt. There is much for poets to learn from as succinct and subtle form as tanka, and I recommend it’s reading whether you are a free verse poet or just a lover of poetry. Too often I am bored by poetry with long descriptions that serves only to draw attention to the poet and not enough to the essence and meaning within a poem itself. Not so with any of the poems in Issue 5 of Eucalypt.

Although widely published as a tankaist, both here in Australia and internationally, the founder and editor of Eucalypt, Beverley George, never publishes her own work in Eucalypt; a position to be noted. When she edits and produces Eucalypt, she focuses as its editor and publisher. Could this be another reason why the quality of tanka appearing in Issue 5 of Eucalypt is of the high standard we have come to expect from this magazine?

If I had any whinge at all to make about Eucalypt, it would come in the form of a wish. I would love to be able to purchase it from my nearest newsagent. Eucalypt deserves a wide audience.



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This Review was first published in Five Bells 16 (2&3) Autumn/Winter 2009 pp. 144-46. It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Kathy Kituai, the reviewer, and of the editor of Five Bells.
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Poet, Diarist and Creative Writing facilitator, Kathy Kituai’s latest publications are Straggling into Winter (07), In Two Minds (08) and The Heart Takes Wing (08) CD.

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Review of Eucalypt 6 by Tony Beyer (New Zealand).


         After several recent conversations about the popularity of baseball haiku in Japan and America, compared with relatively few haiku about cricket by other Anglophone poets, I was delighted to find a cricket tanka by Tessa Woolridge on the first page of Eucalypt 6, with an illustration by Pim Sarti. If the difference between the two games is a matter of duration, the same might be said of instantaneous haiku and more reflective tanka. Cricket is a summer game, but traditional rivalries between hemispheres have resulted in its season becoming continuous.
         In many poems in this issue, the core observation, similar to a haiku, is given extension, context and meaning by the further two lines. This formal pattern recalls the exchanges of image and response in classical Japanese renga. The longer tanka form has room for stated emotion, summary, and the key element of the passage of time.
         The very contemporary topic of parents’ ageing gives an example of this sort of perspective for Elaine Riddell:
dementia . . .
affection is not among
the responses you have lost
your gift today an acorn
offered on a curving twig
The poet in this case does not have to mention a lifetime’s gift-giving between (I assume) mother and daughter, or her awareness of the role reversals brought about by age.
         André Surridge opens up a culturally specific historical view:
from the beach
at Anzac Cove
a stone
the colour
of your battledress.
His tanka represents the capacity for acclimatisation and flexibility that are main attractions of the genre. The situation is made subtly particular by the use of a pronoun.
         Another approach, by Tess Driver, makes its impact through the reversal of our expectations:
worn braces
hold up trousers
browned with blood –
stroking softly
he holds the newborn calf
As so often, the power of this poem derives from the very careful choice of detail and colour: brown, not red.
         As with earlier issues, the strength of Eucalypt is in its commitment to a wide range of authors, both established and experimenting. Similar subjects are explored from a range of angles. Excellence is the guideline and, in many examples, a spirited intention. While several magazines in our region are devoted to Japanese-derived forms, Eucalypt, with its clearly defined focus on tanka and the encouragement this entails, is to be celebrated.

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This Review was first published in in Kokako 10 April 2009 pp. 49-51.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Tony Beyer, the reviewer, and of the editors of Kokako .

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Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal (Issue 6, 2009)
Edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Owen Bullock

Eucalypt is one of the few journals which specialise entirely in tanka and the only one in this part of the world. Tanka is the poetic form from which haiku developed in the late Middle Ages. Tanka are usually written over five lines, and, though more lyrical and expansive than haiku, make a similar attempt to say as much as possible with few words. This ancient form continues to find new expression, and Eucalypt has gone from the strength to strength with a worldwide contributor base that includes such tanka luminaries as John Barlow, Linda Jeanette Ward and Sanford Goldstein. New Zealanders are well-represented – seven in this issue - and with 33 of the 76 contributors from Australia, this makes up a nice balance of local and international voices.

Elaine Riddell, a New Zealand poet comparatively new to tanka, has published some strong pieces in previous issues. This trend continues with the following:

three years dead
‘go easy on the eath’
the message
on his letterbox
still speaks to the world

She presents a simple fact and the interpretation that the message still speaks is also fact enough for me.

     Editor Beverley George groups tanka by theme, but not so strictly that this limits the poems.
Two tanka by Jo McInerney describe the aftermath of the January bushfires. They are both moving and well-crafted. Here’s one of the two:

caramelised apples
hang from black boughs
a child rocks
on a metal swing
in the ash yard

I’ve noted McInerney’s work in other journals (such as Modern English Tanka) for its wistful, compassionate voice.

     Financial stress is another featured topic. Peggy Heinrich writes:

I learn that
half my nest egg is gone . . .
the calming effect
of a hummingbird
at the feeder

Such a sighting might help us all. Nature continues unabated, despite our woes, but, instead of a sense of distance between us and other creatures, there’s comfort and renewal. Bob Lucky offers a humorous twist on the same theme:

a market surge
today I am less poor
on paper
I finagle my budget
to squeeze in a muffin

     The word ‘finagle’ is a delight and the detail of the muffin somehow quaint in its appeal.
     War is ever at someone’s door. Maria Steyn’s elegant phrasing brings home a certain reality. The ‘pale blue fear’ of a soldier’s eyes is surreal, even synaesthetic, but uniquely conveys something too often omitted from stories of war - I’m also led to ponder the fear that led to the conflict in the first place.
     Like its content, the force of this tanka by Cathy Drinkwater Better creeps up on the reader:

deep winter . ..
in the dim elevator
blindsided by an old song
I never thought
would make me cry

The word ‘blindsided’ gives us an echo of some kind of battle. She might be safe from strong emotion in as innocuous a place as the lift! But, no, it seeks her out through a song that has some meaningful connection and sadness takes over. ML Grace contributes a similarly fragile lyric; Pamela Babusci likens herself in love to a wounded soldier.
     Poems of great delicacy fill these pages, such Melissa Dixon’s ‘pity me not’, Rodney Williams’ ‘mother lapsing’ and Sanford Goldstein’s ‘again’; alongside some forthright vollies, such as John Martell’s ‘the window closed’ and Alan Spring’s:

we laugh a little
like old times
then the tubes
carrying blood and urine
and the faint smell of decay

which, though in some ways unpalatable, tells the truth about the end of life - and there is even a little laughter.

     A subscription to Eucalypt is a must for anyone who enjoys, or wishes to write, tanka.


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This Review was first published in in Takahe 68, 2009
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Owen Bullock, the reviewer, and of the editors of Takahe.

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Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal (Issue 6, 2009)
Edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Annette Mineo

It is always with sheer delight that I open my mailbox to find the latest issue of Eucalypt, and issue 6 is no exception! Beverley George has once again produced another squeaky clean journal of tanka, per usual, by adhering to her high standard and accepting only the best of what is submitted.

I love the way that George opens every issue with a single poem alone on the first page; it is always a carefully chosen poem that doesn’t necessarily seem to represent any particular theme for the collection, but often sets a mood that the reader may ride like a kite tail to the end. This issue opens with a delightful fun-filled summer poem, full of lovely imagery and a surprise punch in the last line:
a red cherry
on a summer’s day
plump and round
sweet in the centre
of the cricketer’s bat
                    – Tessa Wooldridge

Delivered to my door in July, the mood of summer comes through loud and clear in this poem with the image of the sweet “red cherry”; life being abundant, “plump and round”; and that sweet sound of the bat hitting the ball. Doesn’t it just make you feel that anything is possible?

There are 117 poems in all, by 76 poets from all corners of the world with barely a theme that isn’t covered from the usual subjects like nature, loss and relationships to these current issues: an unstable economy, the affects of war and even the recent Australian brushfires. The poems have been masterfully arranged on the pages so that the themes effortlessly flow together, weaving and overlapping with one another to produce a tapestry of human experiences.

Here’s a favorite nature poem of mine by John Barlow:
a sky full
of dusky blues . . .
one by one
the egrets
return to their roost
                    – John Barlow

And a particularly poignant poem on transience:
afternoons
our white courtyard walls
patterned
with shifting leaf shadows—
no constancy in this world
                    – Amelia Fielden

And where would we be without Bob Lucky and his marvelous sense of humor to get us through these tough financial times:
a market surge
today I am less poor
on paper
I finagle my budget
to squeeze in a muffin
                    – Bob Lucky

Then this glimpse of war’s ugliness contrasted with the beautiful:
a white heron
flying into summer . . .
from the bombed-out street
a soldier looks up to the hills
of his childhood village
                    – Max Ryan

Following several poems of despair, we find this flawless poem on love and salvation:
rain drums
on the tin roof
we fall asleep
silent birds clinging
to wind tossed branches
                    – Lynette Arden

There are several poems that comment on aging and memory, like this one:
mending the fence
he forgets where the latch fits
she remembers
swinging on a moonlit gate
his hand firm on her back
                    – Kathy Kituai

Followed by this touching poem of a new baby:
I wore my grandson
like a starfish on my shoulder
his heartbeat
transmitting trust
his fingers softly curled
                    – Gail Hennessy

Finally, I would be amiss if I didn’t comment on the lovely black and white drawings throughout the issue. These drawings by Pim Sarti and Kathryn Harrison really complement the poems without creating a distraction.

In closing, I leave you with this John Barlow poem:
the sea asters fade
into the night . . .
everything
that can be done
is done
                    – John Barlow


And it’s done so well; issue 6 of Eucalypt will not disappoint. It’s everything we’ve come to expect from this fine Australian journal: thoughtful, finely-crafted and polished tanka mindfully arranged on the page to create what is surely one of the best publications in tanka today.



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This Review was first published in five bells: Australian poetry vol. 17 Nos 1&2 2010 pp. 165-168.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Annette Mineo (USA), the reviewer, and of the editor of Five Bells.
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Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal (Issue 7, 2010)
Edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Patricia Prime

The tanka in Eucalypt 7 are of the usual high standard. The collection delivers 118 tanka in a variety of styles from poets around the world, including Australia, New Zealand, USA, Canada, Ghana, Japan, China, England and South Africa. These thirty-eight pages of tanka, one to four per page, pulse with passion. No dry work here, sensuous and sensual experiences either grab our attention or lead us gently by the hand.

Different images are presented to the reader: Max Ryan’s workman taking his lunch on the beach; Joseph Kleponis’ wondering whether there is meaning in an “abandoned bird’s nest”; Kozue Uzawa’s jet lag. There are quirky images – Owen Bullock’s children fussing about eating onions; David Terelinck recalling childhood days when he was “always third” in the bath; Carmel Summers’ “dream of a prince’s kiss.”

Here’s a pacy, perceptive tanka by Elaine Riddell:
you moved in
as one family –
today
two removal trucks
separate your belongings

Most immediately affecting are the following tanka:
as a child
I wanted to touch the sky
never dreaming
that to touch another’s heart
would be the greater challenge
           Irene Golas

strolling
darkened streets
afraid
of what I might see
through broken blinds
           Bob Lucky

her bald head
sprouting soft new hair
has she been remade?
exotic crystal ear-rings
swirling silken scarves
           Paula Stevenson

Some tanka can be situationally funny yet still touching, as seen in these tanka:
most days
I believe in God
other days
I’m certain he’s this tiny man
behind the curtain
           Kathy Lippard Cobb

after five days,
bagpipes and haggis aplenty,
I’m going to flee
old Scotland, the same as
my bandit fathers before me
           Michael McClintock

Many of the tanka give us personal moments that are easily recognizable as classic tanka:
across the pond
sunset explodes in bronze
and green fir spires –
we stand hands together
free from the weight of words
           John Martell

on this autumn night
of deep apple scented sleep
no troubled dreams
of lilac and lavender
can invade this moment’s peace
           Joseph Kleponis

Appreciating the simple is one of tanka’s delights and the tanka that appears in this journal typify Western thoughts. There is much to recommend Eucalypt as it presents the writers’ viewpoints with sensitivity. The tanka here help form a growing body of work, especially among Southern Hemisphere poets and one can only admire Beverley George’s commitment to the form and her ongoing support of tanka poets. Here one finds poems that are sincere, observant and sometimes enlightening.

The volume is attractively presented with design and layout by Matthew George, illustrations by Pim Sarti and cover photograph by Beverley George.



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Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal (Issue 3, October 2008)
Edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Margaret Bradstock for Mascara Literary Review Issue Four - October 2008

Eucalypt: A Tanka journal, Issue 3, 2007
Beverley George (Ed.)

PO Box 37 Pearl Beach 2256
ISSN 1833-8186
RRP: $30 for two issues p.a


I was impressed by the inaugural issue of Eucalypt, appearing in 2006 and positively reviewed by Jan Dean in Five Bells (vol.14, no.2, p.38). Eucalypt, the first literary journal in Australia dedicated to tanka, published bi-annually, has gone from strength to strength. According to Amelia Fielden:
Tanka, meaning 'short song', is the modern name for waka, 'Japanese song', the traditional form of lyric poetry which has been composed in Japan for over thirteen hundred years. It is an unrhymed verse form of thirty-one syllables or sound-units. There are no poetic stress accents in Japanese, so traditional poetry is given rhythm by writing to a pattern of 5/7/5/7/7 sound-unit phrases, with varying breath pauses being made when read aloud. (On This Same Star, 5)

Waka remained virtually unchanged from its inception during the Heian period through to the end of the nineteenth century, by which time it had fallen subject to stereotypical imagery and a lack of originality. Beverley George tells us:
In the late nineteenth century, several distinguished poets questioned the lack of originality and adherence to outmoded diction in the waka that were being written. To indicate their desire for reform, they renamed it tanka meaning short song or poem. The broader interpretation encouraged adoption of this genre by an expanded audience outside Japan. (10)

Tanka, then, is modern and modernised waka. Makoto Ueda’s introduction to Modern Japanese Tanka provides valuable insights into tanka reform in the twentieth century.

In English, the requisite format is more flexible still, as Fielden’s preface to her own recent collection makes clear:
In English, tanka are conventionally written in five lines to parallel the short/ long/ short/ long/ long components of Japanese tanka. Few contemporary non-Japanese tankaists adhere strictly to the original thirty-one syllable count, however. It is now generally agreed that English lyrics of around twenty-one syllables in a 3/5/3/5/5, or looser, pattern most closely echo the essential concision and lightness of Japanese tanka. This has been called the '21 +/- theory'; it is a theory which I endorse, and my poems can usually be counted out in twenty to twenty-six syllables. More important than a specific number of syllables is the internal rhythm of tanka, the impact they make on the ears as well as the mind. And in content, contemporary tanka are unrestricted…. multiple poems – any number between two and a hundred or more – on a similar or related theme, can be grouped under a common title. This is then designated a 'tanka sequence'. (5)

In order to contain the poetic moment within a set number of syllables, Japanese tanka rely greatly on the power of suggestion. Fielden apprises us that “a certain haziness is an intrinsic, indeed admired, characteristic of the form.”( On This Same Star, 11). The same distillation is apparent in contemporary tanka, which may sometimes seem, as a consequence, fragmentary or ambiguous. However, what is unsaid carries as much weight as the words that appear on the page. Individual tanka are not given titles, and must therefore convey meaning(s) as effectively as possible through an evocative situation.

Issue 3 of Eucalypt is arranged thematically, with topics ranging from the spiritual through family, health, celebrations of life, love and betrayal, to mention just a few. Some 'sections' (which segue into each other) are uniformly sad, others joyous or humorous.

The keynote poem sets the tone, matching inner and outer landscapes:
a photo
ghost gums near Kata-juta
the dry heart
too full of memories
to go back alone
                                            Michael Thorley (Australia)

Barbara Fisher’s delightful closing piece, reminiscent of W.H Auden’s “Thank You, Fog” (written on an afternoon too foggy to take a walk), is rife with innuendo:
lying in bed
this rainy morning
I'm glad
a walk is utterly
out of the question
                                            Barbara Fisher (Australia)

To my mind the wittiest of these poems, playing with the spirit of tanka without overturning it, is the following:
thirty years later
the pale blue petals
pressed in my journal
what was that flower
– and who was that man

                                            Margaret Chula (USA)
Likewise, a note of humour creeps into a christening ceremony:
water phobia –
the preacher pushes
her head under
bubbles floating upwards
she's saved but terrified
                                            Barbara A. Taylor (Australia)
Other tanka that struck a chord, situation evoking memory and emotion, are:
Christmas time
I remember the little
ice skaters
on a mirror pond –
arranged mother's way
                                            an'ya (USA)
another summer gone
not knowing
if I should eat
or store away
the sunflower seeds
                                            Stanford M. Forrester (USA)
how small
I really am
here between
potato field
and the wide sky
                                            Mariko Kitakubo (Japan)
wedge-tails
spiral overhead
in tandem
on an updraft of our own
we brush outstretched wings
                                            Rodney Williams (Australia)
a distant roar
of lions from the plains
father's steady voice
telling childhood stories
by the fire's warmth
                                            Maria Steyn (South Africa)

As may be noted, submissions have been accepted on an international basis, and each reflects the writer’s own country. In the January 2008 issue of Stylus Poetry [www.styluspoetryjournal.com], Janice Bostok, a pioneer of haiku and tanka in Australia, has said: “The poets of each country, while embracing Japanese forms, need to internalise their cultural origins and hope that they will become distinctive of their own country,” and this is the hallmark of tanka published in Eucalypt. Many of them exploit their own idiom, picking up on colloquial expressions, and all celebrate their native imagery and seasons. Perhaps that’s why my eye has fallen upon so many from Australia.

In an earlier article, “Tanka: ‘the myriad leaves of words’” (11), Beverley George elaborates further:
A convincing argument for the adoption of tanka into foreign utterances lies in this form's versatility. A tanka poem can capture the essence of human emotion and it can also be demonstratively used as a form of diary writing to chart the more pedestrian aspects of our lives, as well significant events. (p.11)


In Eucalypt # 3, George is to be congratulated on another fine and representative selection.



NOTES

Amelia Fielden, Foreword to Still Swimming, ACT: Ginninderra Press, 2005:.5.

Beverley George, “Tanka: ‘the myriad leaves of words’ ”, Five Bells, vol.13, no.1 (2006): 10.

Introduction to On This Same Star by Mariko Kitakubo (transl. Amelia Fielden), Tokyo: Kadokawa Shoten, 2006: 11.

Modern Japanese Tanka: An Anthology, edited and translated by Makoto Ueda. NY: Columbia UP(1996):



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This Review was first published in Mascara Literary Review Issue Four - October 2008.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Margaret Bradstock, the reviewer, and of the editor of Mascara.
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Eucalypt 8, edited by Beverley George.   PO Box 37, Pearl Beach 2256, NSW, Australia. 2010.   44 pp.   editor@eucalypt.info

Reviewed by Patricia Prime


The appearance of a new issue of Eucalypt is a significant and much appreciated event. This latest selection is of particular interest because it spans so many tanka from poets around the world: Australia, India, U.S.A., England, New Zealand, Bhutan, Japan, Canada, China, France, South Africa and Croatia. The following tanka from Croatia is by Djurdja Vukelic-Rozic:
under the snow
our magnolia tree,
budding shyly
my granddaughter listens
to footsteps of passers-by

These tanka are by turns humorous, witty, truthful, and tough enough, asserting an undeflectable honesty and a sharpness of perception. Even a prison cell allows a tanka moment as we see in the following poem by Gavin Austin:
lying awake
on a prison bed
in his steel world
mother has not sung
for seven years
Here we are made aware of the prisoner’s hard bed and his mother’s melancholy at the loss of her son’s freedom.

Jo McInerney’s tanka
my finger traces
the lines of your laughter . . .
one day
you will not wake
to smile at me again
has a delicacy, a harmony, that seeks to transcend the act of memory of loss which is its subject.

Many of the tanka beguile us into the worlds of the poets, observing familiar landscapes and feelings with fresh eyes and well-chosen words. Many of us will have experienced the loss of a loved one and in Michael McClintock’s fine poem on the loss of his brother he finally releases his brother’s ashes into a landscape that perhaps both of them knew:
the day has come
to take my brother’s ashes
into the woods –
I know of a waterfall
there, sweet and clear

Tessa Wooldridge’s tanka
lap swimming
on a summer day
beneath my hands
lane markings dissolve
into Rorschach inkblots
gives the simple act of swimming a new meaning with its surprising image of the inkblot. The poem is well made, thoughtful and original.

The gentle filmic precision of Margaret Ruckert’s tanka
rented Bondi flat
voices echo from bare floors
a migrant mother
filled with sun, asks her child
why don’t you bring home a friend?
beautifully captures the soft tones of the migrant mother questioning her child about friendship.

Two pages on the theme of war reinforce our dread of the woeful acts of humans against each other. Linda Galloway, Andre Surridge, Dorothy McLaughlin, Shona Bridge and Aubrie Cox write well in the tradition of war poetry with fluent, skilful tanka.

The striking and original characteristics of nature tanka are exemplified in the work of David Terelinck, Elaine Riddell, Barbara Fisher and Giselle Maya. While Rodney A Williams gives us an insight into the system of connection with his humorous tanka
shimmering
on the desert track
a mirage
her smile radiant
for the man behind me


Eucalypt 8 is not only a salute to the wonderful world of tanka, but a collection of international material, providing the reader with a significant body of worthwhile poetry.

These thoughtful poems, often flecked with subtlety and humour, repay many readings

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This Review was first published in a fine line: the Magazine of the New Zealand Poetry Society November 2010 pp. 12-13.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Patricia Prime, the reviewer, and of the editor of a fine line.
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Eucalypt 8, edited by Beverley George.   PO Box 37, Pearl Beach 2256, NSW, Australia. 2010.   editor@eucalypt.info

Reviewed by Maria Steyn


The joy of reviewing a fine tanka journal such as Eucalypt lies in immersing oneself once again in the excellent selection of tanka, revisiting Pim Sarti’s artwork and re-experiencing the pleasure of leafing through the silky pages. With four highly successful years of publishing Eucalypt biannually, Beverley George, an international award winning tanka and haiku poet, has firmly established herself as editor of one of the best journals in the global tanka community. In this issue she was assisted by tanka poet Julie Thorndyke as co-editor. Tanka from 84 poets representative of 12 countries fill the pages of Eucalypt 8. The professional layout and design by Matthew George are spacious with a balanced interplay between text, illustration and white space.

As in previous issues the tanka poems eloquently address many facets of our commonly shared humanity. A variety of themes are touched upon and readers find themselves lingering among poems about landscape, nature, war, love, relationships, loneliness, technology, modern life and humour to name but a few.

The tanka about landscape and history first caught my attention. Tessa Wooldridge and ML Grace approach these themes from different and interesting perspectives. The novel imagery and beautiful cadence of Wooldridge’s tanka sing through our minds long after the poem has been read. Readers will be familiar with stoic pioneer family portraits similar to those mentioned by ML Grace, keepsakes from an era that left no room for the faint-hearted.

from Ivanhoe
to the Menindee lakes
fence, train track, fence
a stave in parallel harmony
singing across the land
          Tessa Wooldridge
  in the silver frame
my ancestors, stiff faced
straight backed . . .
no hint of drought and floods
or three young faces missing
          ML Grace


This led me to Margaret Ruckert’s ‘rented Bondi flat’ dealing with displacement. Instead of being ‘filled with food’, the migrant mother is filled only with the light of hope for her family. A friend for her child would serve as a gateway toward acceptance in this as yet alien community, and we are subtly aware that the child, like the family, might also feel separated and estranged.

rented Bondi flat
voices echo from bare floors
a migrant mother
filled with sun, asks her child
why don’t you bring home a friend?
                        Margaret Ruckert

Love and relationship are difficult topics to execute successfully but accomplished with a lightness of skill and delicacy in ‘his touch’ by Natalia L. Rudychev.

his touch
was so light
the sky in me has opened
to free
the endless April rain
                        Natalia L. Rudychev

Barbara Curnow adds a refreshing dimension. The last two lines of her tanka take the reader by surprise with an alluring element of humour that cuts deeper than the surface. John Martell explores the inner landscapes of two people in a minimum of words, yet speaking volumes.

the longer
that no-one shares his bed
the more
he notices women
with beautiful minds
          Barbara Curnow
  in her eyes
he saw it was time
to leave
the polite emptiness
of wasted hours
          John Martell


Poems about love invariably overlap those dealing with relationship, be it among friends or family members. Patricia Prime touches upon the essence of this in her poem:

like a blade of grass
in a dense pasture
I’m entwined
in the tendrils of other lives
my roots tangled with theirs
                      Patricia Prime

War is an ever-present threat to many. Kirsty Karkow and Linda Galloway bring this to life in two poignant tanka.

nothing
can match this feeling
bone-deep
the child who went to war
sleeps in his old bed
          Kirsty Karkow
  I used
to believe there were
good wars
then I touched
the wounds of a dying God
          Linda Galloway


Carole MacRury’s exuberant and celebratory nature poem with its vivid colour contrast is a joy to the senses. The more subdued, sensitive poem by Djurdja Vukelic-Rozic expresses the physical awakening of a young girl in simple, yet gently meaningful images.

this moment
between heaven and earth
in full bloom
our red camellia bush
and the white wolf moon
          Carole MacRury
  under the snow
our magnolia tree,
budding shyly
my granddaughter listens
to footsteps of passers-by
          Djurdja Vukelic-Rozic


Sanford Goldstein’s self-deprecating and wryly humorous tanka about aging will touch many readers, as will the vivid imagery in Linda Jeannette Ward’s poem about late-middle age.

gift in hand
I proceed to dinner
the invited gaijin
this me who talks to bare walls
who sits and smiles gat-toothed
          Sanford Goldstein
  late middle-age
her sails fall and rise
through the silver lake
autumn gusts slice
the broken wing of a swan
          Linda Jeannette Ward


Finally a tanka that starts off deceptively simple, leading readers towards a richness of imagery that engages and elicits deep contemplation.

I used to think
the world could not go on
without me . . .
does a fallen leaf know
its place among the stars
                      Jo McInerney

Eucalypt, issue 8 contains tanka that will delight, inspire and captivate. Invest in a copy to enjoy somewhere in a peaceful corner away from the toils of daily life. Subscription information, previous reviews and the Distinctive Scribbling Awards can be found at: http://www.eucalypt.info/

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This Review was first published in five bells 17 (4) Spring 2010 pp. 164-166.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Maria Steyn, the reviewer, and of the editor of five bells.
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Eucalypt 9, edited by Beverley George
Review by Patricia Prime


Eucalypt is a print journal on silk paper that contains tanka only - and is the tanka journal poets aim for in Australia and world wide. Issue 9 showcases the work of 91 poets working in moods that range from humorous to passionately intense. While the majority of poets are Australian, there are admirable tanka in this magazine by New Zealand poets, among them Elaine Riddell and Andre Surridge, and from poets from Canada, the United States, Bhutan, Mexico, Japan, Ethiopia, England and South Africa.

The journal opens with this fine tanka, which epitomises summer in Australia:
on the hessian rug
a centerpiece of yabbies
piled high . . .
campfire smoke still drifts
around my dad and me

— Bett Angel-Stawarz
The wide-ranging focus of the tanka move through Margaret Ruckert's memories of holidays to Julie Thorndyke's elegant capturing of a personal relationship, to the delicate love lyric of Jan Foster's tanka about making love as one gets older:
making love
in the afternoon
the drumbeat
a little slower now
but no less insistent
Carmel Summers' equally eloquent tanka reveals what it means to open oneself to life and to let go of those things which are unimportant:
wind whips
my hair, scours
my skin
I open my hand
letting go . . . letting go . . .
Gavin Austin's "sordid murmurs", perhaps one of the finest tanka in the collection, recalls memories of a relationship in a cheap motel, when "we thought we were in love".
sordid murmurs
penetrate peeling walls
of the cheap motel... .
do you recall those times
we thought we were in love
Tanka about friends, family and relationships are an integral, not incidental, part of the collection, and when it comes to childhood recollections, the tone is just right in Julie Thorndyke's evocative tanka about life on a farm:
cows queuing
for the evening milking
no one home
but me . . . too young
to even light the lamp
But for many of us it is the truths in the pervasive melancholy of ageing, missed opportunities and what the future holds in store that is revealed with a subtle and brooding intelligence in Cathy Drinkwater Better's poem:
now I count my days
in shabby dishtowels
and broken cups - gone
are the dreams of doing
something no one else has done

Eucalypt 9 will have appeal to a world audience. The riveting perception of individual tanka shows the full range of the form, and will always be engaged and engaging for the reader.


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This Review was first published in Haiku NewZ, the New Zealand Poetry Society web-site, February 2011.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Patricia Prime, the reviewer, and of the editor of Haiku NewZ.
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Eucalypt 10, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Owen Bullock


I took great pleasure in the variety of subject matter in this issue of Eucalypt, including the joy of the mundane in Keitha Keyes' 'half awake'; the sense of dismay in Peggy Heinrich's 'this former lover'; the extreme devotion of Elaine Riddell's 'barefoot'; the continuity in Linda Jeanette Ward's 'arranging', and the tragedy of Linda Galloway's 'a skipping stone'. I'd like to look at three tanka in detail.

eyes half-closed,
the fiddler wails
on his fiddle
and the roar rises,
the roar rises from the deep
            Michael McClintock

The repetition here is both matter-of-fact and rhythmical. The fiddler keeps to what he knows (much like Issa’s turnip-puller); this is how he evokes the elemental, the primal. 'The roar’ makes me think of stags roaring to attract hinds in the mating season, and it's possible that the context here is one of sexuality or relationship. Alternatively, it might imply longing for a homeland, or for more sense in the world than there is.

she sat,
that sixty-three-year-old woman,
sat down uninvited,
all the words in her frail voice
somehow connected to my past
            Sanford Goldstein

The repetition of ‘she sat’ and 'sat down uninvited’ enhances the sense of the poet's indignation and of re-telling the story, much as the woman in question has been re-telling stories, perhaps already heard too often. If we didn't know that Sanford was an elderly gentleman, this woman might be his mother! More likely, a sister; or even a daughter; the implication is that he knows her as he's specific about her age. If she's not related, what is the connection? We don't know exactly because he says 'somehow'. Is it something about her story, or merely her tone of voice which reminds him of something in his own past. I think we could ponder this well into the night, the sign of a successful poem; I suggest that much of its success lies in what it leaves out.

a jar of
home-made blueberry jam
my gift
to that stubborn person –
what do I know about him?
            Kozue Uzawa

This tanka intrigued me. My initial reaction was a little ‘so what-ish’, after all, we don’t know much about the person either. But we see that the writer is interested enough in getting to know him better, or at least in investigating her own reactions to him; to give him a jar of jam, to go to his house or flat. He might indeed be the stubbornest of men, from her point of view, but she's realised that that’s all she knows about him; he’s still human and worthy of care.

Once again, in Eucalypt, there is something for everyone.


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This Review was first published in Kokako 15 2011 pp.60-61.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Owen Bullock, the reviewer, and of the editor of Kokako.
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Eucalypt 12, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by David Terelinck


In an age where there has been an exponential growth of self-published tanka on electronic media, it is still a great relief to this writer to hold a print journal the quality of Eucalypt 12 in his hands. There is much satisfaction to be gained in the tactile feel of hanno silk paper; and the joy of being seduced by the scent of fresh ink on turned pages. Is this the feeling that ancient scribes encountered when they produced fine volumes of tanka dating back to the Heian period of Japan? The production values of Eucalypt 12 do much to honour the ongoing traditions of this highly respected form of poetry.

There is no doubt that electronic publication formats such as Twitter, poetry blogs, FaceBook, and personal web pages have increased the awareness and popularity of short poetic forms such as haiku and tanka. However there is a serious risk that, when these tenuous venues are not moderated or edited, the quality within the posts may be elusive. There can be a blurring of the lines between what is being called tanka by those with less experience, and what is actually accepted to be tanka by definition of form and structure, and by those with many years of experience spent researching, reading, editing, and writing tanka. The Net has given us instant gratification; within seconds of writing a tanka it can be “liked” on social media pages multiple times over; but this does not necessarily mean there is inherent quality within the poem. Therefore, due to a lack of editorial control, one may have to wade through many miles of ethereal lodestone to find a single diamond.

This is not so with issue 12 of Eucalypt, where every tanka is a polished gem. Due to Beverley George’s extensive experience as an editor and tanka competition judge, and her status as an international award-winning and published tanka poet in her own right, her focus is on quality at all times. It is this acumen as a quality editor and writer that guides the selections within Eucalypt 12. Indeed Beverley George is removed from personal bias and claims of ego as she does not publish her own tanka within the pages of any edition of Eucalypt.

Issue 12 features exemplary tanka from 95 poets in 10 different countries. Upon reading these poems, we inherently know this is a publication worth waiting for every six months. We don’t mind as we know the editorial controls mean the tanka will be fresh and original, not seen before in cyberspace, and that the quality will be exceptionally high

Eucalypt is a journal of relationship . . . it draws us in, and we are invited to sit with poets and share the spaces within their lives. Often those spaces can be uncomfortable, but integral to our place with others. Susan Constable, a favourite poet of this reviewer, uses effective contrasting imagery to display the difficulties of relationships when two persons are at cross purposes:

a thick layer
of bright green moss
on the boulder . . .
his words can’t soften
the look in her eyes

The other two poems that appear on the same page complement this theme of people and their intertwined lives. Beverley George has the subtle gift of grouping tanka to allow each to shine individually; yet she is a master at magnifying the effect of the entire page by selecting the “right” tanka to group together from the 126 that appear in this issue. Take for example these following that are on the same page as the tanka above:

he spoke
in floating petals
she replied
in piercing pins
and vinegar
            Barbara Curnow

news
you’ve been dying
to share –
ice rearranges
in my glass
            Aubrie Cox

One of the great strengths of this journal is the selection of poems that are rich in meaning, yet not overblown in their imagery. The following tanka by Shona Bridge is a fine example of the understated elegance that has defined good tanka for many centuries:

each small stitch
of her needle
in the moonlight . . .
the movement of red thread
for what words won’t say

There is a musical lyricism when this tanka is read aloud, and the sensitive alliteration adds to the evocative nature of the words and meaning.

It is this “poetry within the poem” that is so vitally important to high quality tanka. And there are many excellent examples of tanka that sing as poems within Eucalypt 12. Who could fail to be moved by John Soule’s tanka that is a fresh take on the theme of “ashes to ashes, dust to dust:”

weathered barn
settling lower and lower
each passing day
becoming part of the soil
like the farmer who built it

Sanford Goldstein’s tanka speaks of being alone when the earthquake hit Japan . . . but the greater fear comes through in the last line; the ominous silence that is suggestive of fear as uncertainty sets in as to who has perished, and what the future holds for the survivors:

alone at home
when the hanging lamps whirled
and floors shook,
I thought my world had fallen
until the house grew silent

Counterpoint to this is the delicately crafted tanka of Mariko Kitakubo on the same page. Mariko’s poem is starkly constructed, but vibrant with emotion and imagery: how silent
the light rain
of radiation –
we continue searching
for his parents’ bodies

Eucalypt 12 also contains many tanka that speak of the positives aspects of life, and the sensual joy to be gained from the world we move in:

deep gentian night
scented by salt marsh
at ebb tide
prawners’ lights bob and sway
sequins in a night club
            M L Grace

she slips
into something more
comfortable –
out of her tight skirt
into her garden
            Barbara Curnow

in a cabin
deep in the old-growth forest
a log fire burns . . .
your hand on my shoulder
still firm as we grow older
            Mary Franklin

As with previous issues, Eucalypt 12 is supported by a website with multiple resources. There are informative articles and appraisals of quality tanka that are a valuable learning tool for both the novice and experienced tanka poet alike. The presence of this website, and the occasional and infrequent newsletter that Beverley George sends to subscribers, means that our pure tanka enjoyment within the journal is not deflected by articles that may be better placed for accessing elsewhere.

Eucalypt 12 is further testament to the ongoing need for high-quality editorial controls. By adopting this approach, Beverley George has ensured that we continue to be blessed with a high-quality tanka print journal that continues to showcase excellent tanka for the enjoyment of all.



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This Review was first published in Blithe Spirit 23 (1) 2013 pp.59-63.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of David Terelinck, the reviewer, and of the editor of Blithe Spirit.
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Eucalypt 13, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by André Surridge


If you love tanka then this is the journal for you. If you are at that stage in your writing when you are looking to expand your haiku horizons then I also recommend this journal to you. It is one that you will enjoy reading and the opportunity is here to learn by example what it is about tanka that enriches our experience of English literature.

“Eucalypt” is a handy to hold A5-size journal printed on very good quality paper and bound in a firm card cover. The first issue was released in 2006. Now into issue 13, “Eucalypt” is firmly established as a quality international tanka journal.

In this issue there are over 130 tanka from 99 poets who live in 10 countries. Over half of these poets live in Australia, which is to be expected since the journal is printed in Oz where there is a very active tanka community writing to a very high standard. There is a strong contingent of American poets and New Zealand is well represented with 9 poets including Karen Butterworth, Patricia Prime, Elaine Riddell, Barbara Strang & Helen Yong.

With no more than four tanka to a page these elegant poems are given space to breathe in a variety of different layouts. Often there are only one or two to a page when accompanied by a captivating illustration.

Illustrations by Pim Sarti inspired by individual tanka are scattered sparingly throughout the journal. In this issue I counted a total of 12 including a horse, bristlecone pine, ferns, daisies, feathers, snail, butterfly, wattle flowers, a goose, flowering iris, casuarina needles and a boy on roller blades pushing a stroller. The latter illustrates a tanka by New Zealand’s Helen Yong…

winter afternoon –
a boy on rollerblades
pushes a stroller…
in rain soft as a prayer
he delivers newspapers

My favourite illustration in this issue is one of several feathers, which appear so lifelike they seem to fall through the page and through this exquisite tanka by Australia’s Jan Dean…

they appear a lot
stray feathers here and there
I wonder
who owned them, are they from
the land of birds or angels?

Like “Kokako”, this is a journal you fall in love with each time it arrives. When you come across a tanka as beautiful as this little gem from Michael McClintock who is without doubt, one of the best writers of modern English tanka, you are left wanting more…

between our houses
there’s an invisible string
connecting us
in quiet hours
in unusual ways

Enough mystery and intrigue there to base a novel on… And to demonstrate the versatility of the tanka form consider this from Carol Raisfeld…

touching the doll here
she tells the nurse about
Uncle Frank…
in the waiting room
the family can’t imagine

There are also some delightful tanka with more than a touch of humour. Take this one from Cynthia Rowe…

your new job
door-to-door karate
salesman
I pray you are gracious
with the frail and infirm

And the wonderful thing about Eucalypt, all 13 issues produced so far, is that you can revisit this world of tanka in all its richness and complexity and find that nothing is diminished, no matter how often you re-read them. There’s an alphabetical index at the back so you can easily locate tanka by your favourite poets.


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This Review was first published in Kokako 18 2013 pp.51-53
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of André Surridge, the reviewer, and of the editor of Kokako.
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Eucalypt 14, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Claire Everett


The internet is a wonderful thing. I've never had the good fortune to visit Australia, but in a matter of seconds I can google eucalypt and discover that it is an umbrella name for three closely-related genera (Corymbia, Angophora and Eucalyptus -- although there seems to be some disagreement among the taxonomists about who is part of the family, and who isn't). I learn that many, but by no means all eucalypts, are commonly called gum trees on account of the copious sap they exude from the slightest nick in the bark. I read about their glossy leaves, their perfumed shade. I am familiar with the healing, comforting qualities of eucalyptus in the form of cough drop, balm and tincture, but can only imagine what it is to breathe the scent exhaled by the living tree. An aura of fascination surrounds these mythic beings whenever I bring them to mind, much like the blue haze that shrouds them on a warm day. It is not difficult to see why Beverley George might have chosen Eucalypt as the name for her acclaimed tanka journal, especially when we consider that the word derives from the Greek: (eu) "well" and (kalyptos) "covered", in reference to the bud cap that conceals the nascent bloom. Tanka is the perfect vehicle for conveying the whole gamut of human experience and emotion; by virtue of it I can walk a path through the eucalypts; I can witness rainbow lorikeets sipping dregs of milkshake from emptied glasses; I find myself wrapped in the crocheted afghan belonging to someone else's mother; I can feel the truth of Sonam Chhoki?s words:

my aunt
who has no English
understands cancer . . .
no language can describe
the terror in her eyes


Eucalypt does much to honour the tradition of tanka. Beverley George is an award-winning poet and an accomplished editor. Contributors can rest assured the fruits of their labours are in safe hands. Appropriately, issue 14 opens with the following tanka by Rodney Williams:

the old bush track
scarred with wheelbarrow ruts
a path well-worn
by first-settler gardeners
pushing their wares to market


Themes that preoccupied the waka poets of the Heian court are no less relevant today and a skilful editor acknowledges this whilst encouraging vibrant imagery, new twists; tanka that polish the family silver, but only after its been melted down and turned into pendants and bangles. Even one of our most ancient muses can be seen in a whole new light:

forgetful
I bring in the washing
at midnight
my moon-laundered sheets
now whiter than white

Michael Thorley


It is refreshing to see very modern tanka which address contemporary issues alongside more traditional poems:

on the table
beside a weeping rose
two empty cups —
she finds friends on facebook
he clicks through his email

Michelle Brock


morning twilight
slipping away with the last
of the stars —
how brief the courtship
between arrow and bow

David Terelinck


Still, we have love:

the sun beats
like a metronome against
the steel kitchen door . . .
I love you because you want me
to catch the mouse in the cupboard

Bob Lucky


Longing:

you should have seen
this heart before the vessels
all were ruptured
how with every lover's moon
in and out swept a strong tide

an'ya


And loss:

cat-clawed
wings torn and featherless
you'll never sing
dawn to the edge of blue,
I struggle to rise

Kathy Kituai


But many other themes, and nuances of shade and tone within those themes, are woven into the rich fabric that is Eucalypt. Beverley George has an uncanny knack of placing tanka in sequence in such a way that they link and shift, chime or contrast with each other, so that each is enhanced and reverberates with meaning. Take these three:

this empty house waits
chores done, I stare out
at the winter garden
realise how her quiet
presence fills my life

John Parsons


fresh snow
in the wagon road
to the old graveyard
the weight of his life
carving deep ruts

Elizabeth Howard


a sky writer
graffitis the blue
with love
is it you who sends
this delightful message?

Jo Tregellis


Notice the recurring themes of quiet, presence versus absence, weight versus weightlessness; a wagon's tracks in the snow as opposed to a contrail's cursive (yet both are transient). Notice the subtle shifts in mood. As much thought goes into Beverley George's ordering of the tanka and their placement on the page as went into the tanka themselves. She has turned editing into a gentle art. Certainly, Eucalypt seems to be akin to a symphony, wherein each theme can be regarded as a movement consisting of several 'short songs'. One tanka might be a tuning fork for another, but chiaroscuro is also used to full effect, though never intrusively, like the sun through the trees, spreading it shawl. Sit awhile with the following two poems:

there is no equal
to summer cicadas
for serenity —
listen to their voices
at autumn's approach

Michael McClintock


crickets
chirping at dusk
the small child
runs crying
from an unknown song

Dy Andreasen


There are many beautiful, reflective tanka, but equally, contributing poets don't shy away from difficult issues; just as death will come knocking on everyone's door, for many of us, hard times, or at least the memory of them, are never too far away:

welfare mom —
on the kitchen table
the scattered pieces
of her picture puzzle . . .
just the border done

John Quinnett


'I'm always afraid
it will come back'
he says
of childhood poverty
and looks at his hands

Belinda Broughton


I would find it very difficult to choose a favourite tanka from Eucalypt 14; there are so many fine poems from relative newcomers and seasoned tankaists alike. Much depends on my mood when I'm reading (and re-reading) which, for me, is one of the many joys of the genre, added to which the overall emotional impact of the poem is a two-way process, between poet and reader. As I write, the following two tanka particularly speak to me; both are uncluttered, contain simple but evocative imagery and leave ample room for dreaming:

sewing
a button back on
the way
I was shown by my
estranged mother

Robert Davey


second-hand shop
in an old book on the art
of Raphael
an inscription to Miss Court
for lonely evenings

Andre Surridge


What makes Eucalypt even more special, is its website, curated by John Bird. Not only is this an excellent resource, complete with articles and details of Beverley's own collections, but it is home to The Distinctive Scribblings awards which recognise two outstanding tanka from each issue of Eucalypt, selected and appraised by the award winners from the previous issue. The awards have been archived since the first issue in 2006 and make excellent reading. Why Distinctive Scribblings? Well, it's all about those gum trees again. Apparently moth larvae, who spend their days nibbling the living wood are responsible for this swirling graffiti which comes to light when the tree sheds its bark.

Eucalypt, Australia's first tanka journal, is published twice a year and subscribers receive an occasional lively newsletter and have the opportunity, from time to time, to take part in the Eucalypt Challenge on a chosen theme. Tanka has firm roots in Australian soil, but Eucalypt has a very international flavour.

In the words of Julie Thorndyke:

each koala
needs eucalypt leaves
and the wombat
his own soil to burrow . . .
our stories feed and ground us






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This Review was first published in Skylark 1:2 Winter 2013 pp. 120-126.
It is reproduced here with the kind permission of Claire Everett, the reviewer, and of the editor of Skylark.
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Eucalypt 15, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Claire Everett


With Eucalypt, Beverley George doesn't just honour the ancient tradition of tanka, she brings the genre screaming, rejoicing, singing, dancing, weeping (insert the verb of your choice here) into the modern age.

Eucalypt 15 opens with a more traditional tanka by Michelle Brock, sensitively illustrated by Pim Sarti. Many of us can relate to the emotional content of the tanka that is conveyed through arresting and visual imagery:

only windfalls
never market apples-
the middle child
in hand-me-down shoes
still dances in shadows

I have already discussed in a review of Eucalypt 14 (Skylark 1:2 Winter 2013 pp. 120-126.*) how this accomplished editor selects and sequences tanka that resonate with each other in such a way that the tanka can be enjoyed in their own right, but also work together, adding new and surprising washes of colour, layers of meaning. Tanka about childhood, memories of kerosene lamps and a son's first driving lesson are all invited to dance with that child in her hand-me-down shoes. We follow, too, without a second thought, lost in the stories of others, until Bob Lucky takes us along an altogether different track:

dawn breaks clear
by the still warm ash
of the fire
I clap my boots together
and send the dried mud flying

Now we are in the realms of tawny frogmouths, kookaburra . . . and suddenly, a ghost in the cellar. Then more ghosts; images of the past which are, by turns, poignant, haunting, chilling:

waiting on the dock
a woman holds a placard
with my name on it
I am put in her arms,
my mother, singing to me

Neal Whitman

foster child . . .
all of her belongings
stuffed
into a brown paper bag
she carries herself

John Quinnett

my parents
missed the death camps
but even from here
the night air has a whiff
of what might sleep within us

Sylvia Florin

There are some tanka in which we find our roots, as well as our moment-to-moment unfurling:

a night alone
at Tokyo Station Hotel . . .
below my pillow
I hear the trains
of a century ago

Saeko Ogi

around the hearth
before its warm glow
talk of ancestry . . .
our son brings in
more wood for the fire

Simon Hanson

And others that find us reaching towards the light and all that may bring:

my river
flows to the sea
soon I will
be finished
with yesterdays

Mel Goldberg

will this be
you or me one day —
a fifth goose
flapping furiously
behind the other four

Carole MacRury

my brother
talks of cremation
casually —
the door half open
one hand on the latch

Michael Thorley

Tanka about death seem to be as inevitable as death itself, but here we have an editor who demonstrates that there are still new ways to spin old yarn. Moreover, there is no fear in bringing a touch of humour to the most sombre experience:

flight crew demonstrates
inflatable life jackets
I gasp at the thought
of your coffin
in the cargo hold

Lois J. Funk

Not only is this tanka suggestive of that final journey from one realm to the next, it also cleverly and succinctly captures the oh so human instinct to hold on to life, to preserve it at all cost, because we are ever aware of our ultimate destination. Given that every day has the potential to be the departure lounge, how do we choose to spend it? Social media has begun to occupy a very big part of many people's lives -- and minds. Perhaps by 'updating our statuses' and 'tweeting' even the most mundane details of our days, we somehow believe we have more of a presence. After all, one can now be officially deceased yet still have a Facebook account; epitaphs now come with a 'like' button or a hashtag; there need be no end to one's timeline. Love it or hate it, this phenomenon has become very difficult to ignore:

turning
my back on Facebook
I search
for an old friend
on the bookshelf

Barbara Curnow

another outburst
of sprouting plum stems
from the tree roots
I tried to dig out —
people I don't want to 'friend'

J Zimmerman

There is something in Eucalypt for every lover of tanka. From the light-hearted:

I don't possess
the accomplishments
of a lady . . .
sewing, decorating
playing second fiddle

Keitha Keyes

to the more traditional and exquisitely-crafted:

palm trees
heavy with dates
hard to believe
just one day in seven
is treated as Holy

David Terelinck

does a tree notice
when each burnished leaf falls?
all around me
the world carries on
. . . as if you weren't gone

Julie Thorndyke

The Eucalypt website (http://www.eucalypt.info/) is an excellent resource for anyone interested in tanka. In addition to submission and subscription details, there are the Scribble Awards (which recognise two exceptional tanka from each issue of the journal, along with appraisals by the winners of the Awards from the previous issue), Eucalypt reviews, and articles of interest to readers and writers of tanka.

____________________________________

*The review of issue 14 has been archived in the Reviews section of the Eucalypt website.



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Eucalypt 16, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Dorothy McLaughlin


The reader knows what to expect of each issue, the special soft green cover, like eucalyptus leaves, and the pages' silky caress, with nothing but tanka, occasional delicate drawings by Pim Sarti, and of course the essential information pertaining to submissions and publishing and an index of contributors.
There are no essays, no comments, nothing but the poems illustrating the amazing variety of emotions and wisdom of the heart and mind. The tanka speak for themselves.

Ken Anderson's short lines remind me of military precision, while their message addresses those who treasure a country's recognition of service.

a box
grimed by dust
opens
father's medals
agleam in the sun

I thought of my husband, father, uncles, brother, classmates; those who returned, those who didn't.

Cynthia Rowe's observation earned a smile.

in this hot
spring, my hair turns
to ringlets
while your locks remain
as straight as your principles

How well spring and ringlets work together, and locks and remain. Does the speaker like her curls?
Who is the person with straight hair and principles?

Gail Hennessy reminds us that science and poetry won't be separated.

first glimpse
down a school microscope
potato segment
who could have imagined cells
aligned like silver sequins

Reading this tanka, I'm tempted to look for my children's old microscope and study the beauty and order built into the universe, including the small, humble potato.

Michele Harvey has given us a soft poem, a love poem.

gently
each leaf falls
upon another
in this world,
so many ways of loving

Pages 26 and 27 offer six tanka with medical advice and hope.

meditating
on body parts
I celebrate
that I am whole . . .
and mostly working.

My first reaction to Anne Curran's rueful humor was that it was for seniors, but then realized it's a celebration of life for any age.

even in winter
a tree keeps reaching
for the light -
don't give up, I tell her
don't ever give up

John Quinnett is speaking not only to a tree, more likely someone he loves. His message might inspire students or prisoners of war.

Vyonne McClelland-Howe wrote:

with precision
the surgeon cuts -
my life
extended
by the edge of a knife

A knife, often a weapon that wounds and brings death, is in many hands a tool that prunes, prepares for a graft, prolongs life.

amid news
of countries in turmoil
on the BBC
someone has recovered
two new poems by Sappho

I recalled the news broadcast that celebrated this event, that prompted Mary Franklin to write her tanka.

For Aya Yuhki, fog is something to dread, as she waits with resignation on the stump of a tree with its record of many days, many years, fearing that at the end of her life she won't remember, won't be able to read her mind's diary. The fog is like a shawl that seems to give no comfort or warmth, soaked with the winter's chill rains.

soon the fog
will come and wrap me
I sit
on an old tree stump
with many annual rings

when it all seems
simply too much to bear -
the cool blue ocean
edged with lapis-lazuli,
velvet fingers of white foam

Julie Thorndyke writes here about the comfort the world offers to balance its trials, finishes her poem with a soft caress.

Kent Robinson has penned a celebration of night, its light, its silence, and the river's music, with the aid of alliteration, of repetition of "f's" and "s's" . The river is "singing to herself" like a woman humming while she works at a quiet task.

a full moon
filters through the she-oaks
in the early hours . . .
no sound but the river
singing to herself

Peggy Heinrich captures a moment of childhood, her own, her child's, we don't know. I can see and hear the little girl and feel her excitement. Oh, how I want this child to hold on to that joy and never mind about being first or last.

day camp foot race -
she runs toward us
waving a prize,
I came in last!
I came in last!

Other readers and reviewers would cite other tanka, find other magic. The writers have written well, the editor has chosen well, given us much to enrich our days. The journal won't stay closed.



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Eucalypt 17, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Patricia Prime


A calmness, even sanity, is to be found in issue 17 of Eucalypt, the tanka journal edited by Beverley George. This calmness comes from the poems engagement in the everyday, absorption with the past, or in the influence on us of nature. They offer us a slower language: reminding us of the pleasure of unhurried words, yet this inclination is often nostalgic, as we see in Barbara Strang's tanka on remembrance:

I remember this
of the last snowfall -
one flake poised
on your sleeve
not melting

The illustrations by Pim Sarti are as impressive as always for this established artist. Sarti has the confidence and skill to address all manner of images such as street lights, a gramophone, a seashell and the delightful frog that illustrates André Surridge's lively tanka:

my daughter
house-sits a dog, two chooks
& Buster . . .
a tree frog living
near the tea caddy.

George avoids the dangers of heavy-handedness through a careful arrangement of subjects. As George says in Ribbons 10:3: "By arranging and rearranging the individual poems, the full sequence emerges." So, on one page, we have poets writing on the actual writing of their poems; on another the topic is childhood, and another is locality. The tanka are arranged so that we alternate between more demanding poems and those that are more accessible - poems about family, childhood and nature. The following tanka by Gavin Austin might be said to be one of those with a more serious topic:

one night
of tenderness during
a lost winter
years of wondering
if your son could be his

while Lois Holland's tanka is a tender love poem:

just a stirring
of maple leaves
in the breeze
your whispered words
weaken my will

The following tanka by Terra Martin has a startling power to capture the wonder of late pregnancy:

clusters
of tiny brown acorns
fall's bounty
after trying for years
she's expecting at forty

while Hazel Hall's tanka is a perfectly humorous image for the way in which one faces becoming a certain age:

'respected member
of the community'
emblazoned on a card
I knew I'd passed
my use-by date

The humour in several tanka does not try to attract attention. It rather reveals the world to us in all its guises. Such simplicity is the hardest thing to achieve, but these tanka poets are able to do so with finesse. Here are two examples:

a fragment
of flirty conversation
a broad grin
sunlight on his silver hair
as I join the dating game
Kirsty Karkow


your new jerseys
and groomed grey hair
show off your eyes . . .
when I think fondly of you
you are wearing your old clothes

Anne Curran

The collection also contains several 'urban' poems on people, objects, scenarios, as in this tanka by Payal A. Agarwal's

tequila sunset . . .
I wake up in the backyard
to a million flies
covering me like a blanket
under a flowering mango tree

These little poems traverse moods, and are like emblems of endearment, curiosity and thoughtfulness. At their best, they are unpredictable. For example, in Jesse Wallis' tanka, the reader is moved from sadness at hearing someone has an urgent appointment to humour when they realise it is only for appearance's sake:

doctor's? I worried,
rereading your cryptic text:
'appointment . . . urgent'
only late owning up -
you were getting your brows done

Specific images convey a kind of moral code, as we see in the following poem by Aya Yuhki, where she tries not to burden friends with her own troubles:

after trying
not to depress others
with my sufferings -
I sit in a boat painted white
with fallen petals

and in this tanka by Marilyn Humbert she writes of the wars in far off places that we read or hear about every day:

another city
another market
so mundane
so commonplace . . .
'til the bombs fall

Many ideas are captured by the imagination and 'saved' for later use in a tanka. Being aware of the changing seasons, listening to birds, recalling the past or predicting what the future holds form a deep appreciation of life. Tanka then becomes an active part of our lives. This archive offers not only memories of the past, but the vitality of the lived lives of poets, as in this tanka by Rodney Williams:

final weekend
up north with my brother -
in the high jump
a teenaged girl from home
wins gold at the games

or this by Carol Raisfield:

the window washer's
dark glasses reflecting
her every move . . .
he lingers another minute
then rappels down one floor

The tanka in Eucalypt 17 is poetry of the senses, using simple yet powerful language to capture intensely human moments. This issue features a wide array of renowned tanka poets who, with the greatest economy of words and purity of vision, have captured those moments of true feeling that make up the human experience.






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Eucalypt 18, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by David Terelinck


With Eucalypt now only two issues away from its 10th year anniversary, it has lost none of its impact and appeal as an international journal of quality tanka. Beverley George has maintained the same high production standards set at the publication of the first issue in 2006. There is the distinctive and iconic eucalyptus leaf cover, the luxurious feel of hanno silk paper under our fingers, and the engaging and perceptive illustrations by Pim Sarti. Every time we open our letterbox to Eucalypt there is sustained comfort in knowing this journal will not disappoint.

The publication of Eucalypt 18 is no exception. And beyond the exemplary presentation standards, the consistency in the quality of the tanka within the journal has become the hallmark readers and subscribers value from an experienced editor such as Beverley George.

As always, I am moved by Beverley's skill in selecting tanka which embodies the essence of author Vanna Bonta's comment that "the true poem rests between the words." Beverley George has selected many tanka that have much white space between what is written, allowing for a multiple interpretations by the reader:

night rain
stalks the edge of dreams
tentatively
we await the call
we know will come . . .

Kent Robinson

you told us
in your softest voice
and yet
the chill in the air
the tolling of the bell

Kathy Kituai

In the poems above we are offered empathetic and well-constructed metaphors, but no stated emotions. The reader is not told what or how to feel. It is in what is unsaid, between each written word, that the reader is able to find their own deeper truth within the tanka.

In Eucalypt 18 Beverley George has published the tanka of 90 poets from 13 countries. This breadth of inclusiveness means the reader will find contemporary tanka on a wide range of topical themes. The news of this troubled world often reports war, civil unrest, and those at risk from terror or fanaticism at home and abroad. It is no surprise then to see poignant and sensitive reflections of these events in Eucalypt.

high above our lawn,
above the tormented man
and his hostages . . .
one cloudless summer sky
indifferent and perfect

Sylvia Florin

from behind
a magpie swoops
black and white
over disputed ground . . .
news of further hostages

Rodney Williams

raindrops quiver
along the bare branch
of an exotic plant . . .
a refugee child
holds back his tears

Dawn Bruce

Whilst Eucalypt is a journal of modern tanka in English, there can be found within its pages writing of a classic style that continues to honour the rich Heian tradition of this poetic form in content and feeling; take for example this tanka, rich in imagery, from Linda Jeanette Ward:

opening and closing
her bamboo fan
she folds mosquitos
onto a lanterned junk
setting sail for the Pure Land

Being Australia's only journal dedicated to tanka, it is affirming to see that 53 per cent of the contributors to Eucalypt 18 are Australian poets. As a result there is much that reflects the unique nature of this island continent and the Australian way of life:

summer drought
as each day ends
I hold
the garden inside me
chattering like a bird

Lynette Arden

nightfall
a low-pitched boom
from the wetlands . . .
the shy bunyip bird
like me, is rarely seen

Barbara A Taylor

longing to see
the harbour bridge again
I give my seat
to the tourist
from Argentina

Hazel Hall

As always, Beverley George pays painstaking attention to how the tanka in Eucalypt 18 flow seamlessly across the page. Whilst pages are not titled with headings or themes, the tanka on each page exist in a comfortable alliance. Whilst the poets have written independently of each other, the sensitive sequencing reads as a polished call and response between each poem.

No matter what sort of tanka you enjoy, everyone will find something within Eucalypt 18 that will resonate on a personal level. There are tanka that will bring a sense of comfort and peace:

old shipwreck
its backbone buried
each afternoon
rib shadows creep
home to the ocean

Lorraine Haig

Tanka that define relationships:

the gift geranium
on your coffee table
refuses to flower
lapses of silence
between us widen

Maria Steyn

Poems of hope and yearning:

tiny fingers
trying to rebuild a life
with broken pieces
hammerscale
from the thrush's anvil

David J Kelly

And those that, through clever construction and word usage, are guaranteed to being a smile to your face on every reading:

her very
short shorts riding up
are tugged back
to make her short shorts
somewhat less very

Michael Thorley

Regardless of what the reader is looking for when they open Eucalypt 18, every tanka within is a small piece of lyrical magic with the potential to move the reader in unexpected ways.






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Eucalypt 19, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Linda Jeannette Ward


The first literary journal in Australia dedicated to tanka: Beverley George, Editor; Design & Layout: Matthew George Design Pty Ltd: 2015; Illustrations: Pim Sarti, 44 pages, saddle stapled. issn: 1833-8186. Available from: www.eucalypt.info.

Considering her own virtuosity in writing tanka, such as her collection empty garden and her award winning poems in international competitions, it comes as no surprise that Beverley George, the Editor of Eucalypt: A Tanka Journal, unfailingly presents us with the highest, most sublime examples of the form today. As poetry in print began to fade, and more and more print journals and literary magazines were shifted online, Ms. George persevered by publishing the Australian journal of short form poetry Yellow Moon, and then, in 2006 launching Eucalypt. A decade later, this peerless work of art-in-print demonstrates that, like the re-launching of The Paris Review five years ago, the highest quality work can be found in selective editing by a gifted editor-poet.

In these poems, the childhood memories and fantasies of two poets are juxtaposed in a delightful way that prompts readers to reflect back on their own imaginary play with objects not meant for amusement.

our schoolyard fence
a xylophone
I played
my pencil all the way home
glissando of growing up

Kath Abela Wilson

 

daydreaming
during geometry class
a straight line lifted
and twirled into a spiral
like something from the sea

Simon Hanson

 

Comfort is offered by these poets, and leaves room for our own thoughts about how meaningful the familiar objects and sounds around us can provide solace.

 

where
in these notebooks
is that poem . . .
the one about your blue shirt
the comfort of your step

Maria Steyn

 

a tiny nest
filled with bits of fluff
grass and string
my own comfort of clutter
in books, photos and shells

Carol Raisfeld

 

And from the familiar to the unfamiliar--at least for readers like myself who have not been fortunate enough to visit Australia--these poets' nature watching brings us tantalizing references of eros and thanatos. A refreshing change from most poetry editors, who often seem skittish about selecting tanka with regional vocabulary or esoteric floral and fauna.

 

strewn on paspalum
a torn torso and the head
of a wallaby . . .
my rural days, so full
of life and death

Barbara A Taylor

 

wild medley . . .
silver dead trees
black stumps
tangled regrowth
and the lyrebird's song

Gerry Jacobson

 

Themes or references to the supernatural, in the best tanka tradition, are included in this issue. The reader is shifted pleasantly to alternate realities.

unable
to find relief now
in the ordinary,
I whirl into the uncommon
place where witches dwell

Sanford Goldstein

 

this snowy eve
I sense the siren call
of spirits fey
yet these leaden feet
are chained to reality

Kent Robinson

 

Here we find insights through color, ways to die and ways to stop the endless struggle.

pure indigo
settles into my heart,
when I cross borders . . .
I would like to die
a wanderer of this earth

Mariko Kitakubo

 

how you struggle
at making something
from nothing . . .
a red flower emerges
in outback sand

Hazel Hall

 

These poets demonstrate that the stirrings of grief, and the haunting that the loss of a loved one brings, can happen with unexpected departures other than death.

the whistle
of the northbound express
punctures the night
. . . it's not in your leaving
but the way you chose to go

David Terelinck

 

if I knew where,
I would send your medications
and the coat
you threw in the dumpster . . .
if only I could send you peace

Elizabeth Howard

 

To close this issue, two poems appropriately bring the day to an end with shadows and the drip of water bringing a sense of oneness with the earth.

stock-still
the heron
gathering light
we pass in shadow
rainfall on wild garlic

Joanna Ashwell

 

I bid the day
a quiet good-bye
watering roses
in the evening shadows
until they drip

Michael McClintock

 

As these poems illustrate, Ms. George masterfully juxtaposes tanka in ways that rise above a planned sequence, yet pull forth memories, observations, dreams and emotions shared by various writers from nine countries around the world. What an inspiring change from the listing of poems by the alphabetical arrangement of the first or last names of poets.

Please don't let my introduction to this review on the strong features of Eucalypt in print form give the impression that a complete withdrawal from the internet has occurred. As a bonus, subscribers to this journal receive a free electronic newsletter from time to time that Ms. George provides for news, discussion and invitations to vote for one's favorite poem: www.eucalypt.info.


Reviewed by:

Linda Jeannette Ward
Coinjock, NC, USA





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Eucalypt 20, edited by Beverley George

Reviewed by Patricia Prime


I've been reading another rewarding collection of tanka in Eucalypt 20 (the 10th year issue), looking for commonalities so that I can do them justice in the space of a review. The journal contains tanka from a variety of countries: Australia, New Zealand, USA, UK, Canada, Bhutan, Saudi Arabia, Japan and South Africa.

These poets put their minds to diverse work. Margaret Conley writes about a temple drummer, Vanessa Proctor's focus is on a quarantine station, while Maria Steyn tells of colonial-style houses and of a ghost town - the poets prod the boundaries of the themes that tanka encompass. Rodney Williams uses the tanka form for imagining the lives of "two hearing-impaired friends" getting on with their lives under difficult circumstances. Susan Constable sees "that red-winged blackbird, / that lush-green tint of moss". While others are taking selfies; Beatrice Yell sees "the flow of a long nightie / in a dash to the kerb" in time to catch the council truck and Kirsty Karkow meets someone's eyes "across a bin of apples". Family features in many of the tanka: children at a new chum's creek, a little boy with his first watch, a daughter's wool coat, a son and granddaughter stroking a beloved toy rabbit's ears, brushing a mother's hair and many more examples. Perhaps, the "simple" quality of many of the tanka is their fragmentary economy of the form. The promise of each poem is often a familiar or everyday predicament, in which real or imagined characters play out their humanity, as in Amelia Fielden's tanka:

another day
of small frustrations
then I find
six gardenia buds
on a sickly bush

for here we see that minor troubles can be assuaged by the joy of discovering buds growing on a plant one thought was dying.

In Neal Whitman's tanka, his mother's simple bequest of a jug with a defect makes him acutely aware of the need to phone his estranged brother:

in her bequest
my mother's toby jug
missing one arm
I pick up the telephone
and call my estranged brother

Whitman's language has a careful formality and we are left to briefly feel his distress at losing a parent and coming to terms with re-connecting with a family member.
Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy's poem is tender in more than one sense. He examines the emotion of seeing petals flying from a rose and compares them to receiving words from family members:

rose petals
in a gust of wind -
one word
from your sisters
is all it takes

Many tanka probe the exquisitely tender spots in childhood, friendship, separation, ageing and death. They can make you start or smile in recognition, or laugh at their wit, or just admire their unflinching truthfulness. Ignatius Fay reprises a familiar comic genre - recounting lapses in conversation; Catherine Smith comments on "dark news / from the Middle East", while Aya Yuhki esteems the fact that "seventy years passed without / getting involved with war".

Often, many of the tanka are about nature, the observations astute: lizards on an autumn path, autumn leaves piled high, drops of rain, dandelion heads, a dead gum tree. Anne Curran lets everything in her garden grow beyond the neighbour's fence line; Jo Tregellis becomes a deity when she drinks ambrosia, sweet honey or fragrant wine and a warm coat protects Carmel Summers from ice-spiced winds.

But there are also tanka about sorrows and strains: for example, Michael Thorley's

Hiroshima
one hundred and fifty thousand
dead
give or take
ten thousand

 








and M. L. Grace's

under stars
smouldering in darkness
this worldly madness
is of no consequence
in the cosmic mystery

Glenys Ferguson's tanka is elegiac - a kind of valedictory addressed to an old man who "died / alone". While Rachel Colombo has mixed feelings "when the final child / leaves home".

Cut to Michael Thorley's fine tanka that bears the simple memory of his mother and its encompassing of all mothers. The tanka is powerfully charged with contained sentiment, but in the end is serene:

at sunset
mothers on verandahs
called us home -
my name echoes still
down nursing home halls.

The final day of a mother's hospitalisation is recalled in this poignant tanka by Kiyoko Ogawa:

for all her dementia
mother asked the doctor
to let her go home
unnecessary to stay longer -
the morning of her final day

The town's heritage is dispersed down river in Joanna Ashwell's tanka:

castle walls crumbling
and the fight for repair -
who pays?
the town's heritage
dispersing own river

"our passion for peace / erases man-made map lines" in Neal Whitman's verse and Dawn Bruce stops trying to change the world in her tanka: "an adult now, I stop / trying to change the world". These are sad, tough aspects of life, but they are also full of spark and invention.
The vicissitudes of ageing are pronounced in some tanka, and there's an energy in the defiant way they take on the world with a certain amount of humour, as in Bob Lucky's tanka:

in the labyrinth
of middle age
walking on eggshells -
instead of make-up sex
we share an omelet

and Andre Surridge's

she buys
a night-light for visiting
grandparents . . .
to guide them to the bathroom
in the wee small hours

The tanka in Eucalypt 20 have an impressive range and perfect pitch - and a certain robust sizzle, in lines like "the shiver in the call / of a nearby owl" (John Quinnett), which reminds him of the old friend from whom he hasn't received a Christmas card. In all this variety, the one common thread is the sheer necessity for writing tanka: it's a way to understand the strangeness and variety of life; it supplies you with the necessary words to express your thoughts and feelings; it admits you to a fellowship of like-minded poets and it creates a celebrative, reflection on life and loves.


Reviewed by:

Patricia Prime






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Eucalypt, A Tanka Journal: Issue 20, 2016

Reviewed by Sylvia Florin


How exciting that Eucalypt, a Tanka Journal, has appeared twice a year for ten years now.

Founded and edited by Beverley George and the only journal devoted to tanka in Australia, Eucalypt's reputation has continued to grow.

What makes a journal, especially a print journal in this internet age, thrive and expand? As we know, many literary journals do not fare so well. Eucalypt's success is in a large part a tribute to the skill, consistency and hard work of its editor in engaging the growing number of English language tanka poets. It is wonderful for poets to be able to send their work to a skilled editor and the result is a pleasure for us all, poets and readers alike. Ms George is reliable, thoughtful and sensitive in her selection processes. She takes poems with wide-ranging themes and differing approaches to the genre. New writers are carefully included -
and often nurtured along the way- together with poets we have come to know well. Over its ten years, the journal has achieved a reputation for publishing tanka of high quality and so attracts more of the same.

The selected tanka are sequenced in a way that deepens the reader's experience, without compromising the ambiguity and multi-layered quality of the poems; there is a deftness and a lightness of touch to this achievement. Many of us enjoy that the journal appears in print, on pleasing hanno silk paper and as well that it is graced by the gentle yet evocative illustrations of Pim Sarti. The regular publication of the journal and the enthusiasm and helpfulness of its editor has encouraged the growth of tanka writing in Australia, reflected in its growing presence in Eucalypt.

Issue 20 presents 126 tanka selected from over 850 submissions. The published poems come
from 9 countries.

I loved Margaret Beverland's

this
is how to live
in summer
a monarch riding
the swan plant's sway

This joyful poem is spare, evocative, clever, naturalistically and philosophically interesting and reminds me of The Tempest's "Where the Bee sucks there suck I", a song I have always loved. I can feel myself swaying on the moving plant as I read.

Sonja Arntzen's poem stood out for the detailed quality of the poet's observations, and the skill of condensing what was seen into a lyrical poem:

early dawn light
and an old church's steeple
lodge in a single
dewdrop pendant
on a cactus spine

Poems on the theme of relationship move the reader with their keenly observed and diverse truths:

Carmel Summers'

heart-deep in water
past the gentle lap of waves
into breaking surf -
the breathlessness, the fear
of loving one more time

From Claire Everett:

this fragrant candle
not so much a pillar now
as a catacomb…
what my life has made of yours,
what yours has made of mine

and the spare but effective poem from Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy

rose petals
in a gust of wind -
one word
from your sisters
is all it takes

For lovers of ambiguity, these poems intrigue

letting everything
in my garden
grow beyond
the neighbour's fence line….
autumn mist

Anne Curran

it's hot and sultry
too close as mother
would say….
I stare at her old Broadwood,
decide that this is the day

Barbara A Taylor

the edge
around my bitterness
a lichen shade of green -
oh to have it bloom
like duckweed pattered by rain

Linda Jeannette Ward

As usual, grief and loss bring some beautiful poems: Michele L Harvey's poem for instance, leads us deeply within one of grief's trajectories with the use of a seasonal metaphor

fresh grief morphs
into a vague longing…
summer turns
into autumn's long shadow
and trees surrender their leaves

Michelle Brock's poem with its beautiful assonance captures the paradox of how endings are never truly separate from what is ongoing -

towards the end
the slow whittling
of time -
through the mist
faint wisp of birdsong

and the wry not exactly lost and not exactly found

in my homeland
a friend is amused
by my accent
a strange place to be
neither here, nor there

Samantha Sirimanne Hyde

The journal has plenty of humour, each poem again successful because of the truthfulness of its observations

the old bachelor
smiles at every joke
she utters…
nothing can stop a moth
from being zapped by light

Louisa Howerow

and the lovely word choice in Lois Holland's

holiday traffic
tortoises up the hill
in the heat
we cruise downwards
happy to moulder at home

and what city dweller cannot relate to this small vignette from Beatrice Yell….

the rumble
of the council truck
louder now -
the flow of a long nightie
in a dash to the kerb

Lastly, I am moved to share Jenny Ward Angyal's

breaking ice
from a frozen rut
I skim
the silver shards
into the windswept sky

Reading Eucalypt can have a similarly freeing and uplifting effect on me. There are many other poems in this issue that I'd have enjoyed to share. For the benefit of us all, I wish Eucalypt a long and happy life.






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