Author: Frank J. Tassone
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Ah il poeta
Originally posted on Vento del giorno: ? Cassandra Tondro Art Ah il poeta Schiaccia le foglie secche per farne versi Continuo il mio cammino cogliendo le briciole ? Ah the poet He crushes dried leaves to write verses I follow my way collecting crumbs Andreina Pilia e Anna Maria Domburg-Sancristoforo
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scryptic | CURRENT ISSUE
Originally posted on Project words: Thrilled to appear in the new issue 2.3 of Scryptic ! window seat I read your last letter by snow light xxx care home all the life she once lived xxx moth holes in the fabric the china doll’s dress xxx sundown still the dust on my pen xxx low…
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Costumes
Originally posted on revivedwriter: For Frank J. Tassone’s haikai prompt, we are writing about Halloween. I like this day because it is the day before All Saints Day, and it reminds me that, no matter how scary situations might seem, I believe that one day everything that is evil will be defeated. Wear fright’ning costumes…
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A Sense of Place: HIKING TRAIL – hearing
Delighted to appear once again in The Haiku Foundation’s A Sense of Place: HIKING TRAIL –gearing for this one: Long Trail under the doe’s feet rustled leaves Thank you, kj Munro A Sense of Place: HIKING TRAIL – hearing — Read on www.thehaikufoundation.org/2018/10/31/a-sense-of-place-hiking-trail-hearing/
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“waning moon…” a #tanka (10/31/18)
10/31/18: carrying a lantern if flashlight waning moon holding a dim flashlight against the gloom walk away from the sound don’t look back. Don’t. Don’t! #tanka #micropoetry #poetry
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Fright
#Haiku Happenings #6: Reena’s latest #haibun for #dversepoets!
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cold winds: troiku
Originally posted on Ontheland: cold wind through our torn paper doors in the month without gods ©️Yamazaki Sokan 1465-1553 : cold winds paper tigers tear to shreds under a new moon : cold winds raze the landscape winter is near . paper tigers tear to shreds ribbons scatter in the wind tangling in treetops .…
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Memorial lost ~ Frank J. Tassone #writephoto
Originally posted on Sue Vincent's Daily Echo: Whose life, so memorialized, and then so forgotten? A moss-covered cross upon a lichen-stained pedestal, erected in a clearing of ancient oaks. The overcast sky piering between spindley branches says nothing. The thinning grass utters not a word. Who could once be so beloved, then remembered no more?…