Frank J. Tassone

Tag: tanka

  • Childhood Memories

    Childhood Memories

    Douglass Park, where we piled on a merry-go-round and spun round & round so fast that some of us fell off. And all of us saw the sky whirl round even standing still. The streets of Weber Park, my neighborhood in then North Tarrytown (now Sleepy Hollow), where we played tag, hung out in each…

  • “Superstitious…” a #tanka (10/13/2023)

    “Superstitious…” a #tanka (10/13/2023)

    10/13/23: unprompted superstitious another Friday the 13th the creepy serenede of dying crickets #tanka#micropoetry#poetry

  • “fading crickets…” a #tanka (10/11/23)

    “fading crickets…” a #tanka (10/11/23)

    10/11/23: town fading crickets the drone of traffic along Palmer new life in a new town they call a city #tanka #micropoetry #poetry

  • Oh, Pasta Fazool!

    Oh, Pasta Fazool!

    The rich, tomatoey flavor. The hearty comfort of cannellini beans, diced pancetta, and grated parmesan cheese. The savory texture of ditalini mixed with those beans. The luscious “hmmmm” in every spoonful. Is there a more perfect cold-weather soup than Pasta Fazool? I experienced a culinary epiphany the first time I tasted the Neapolitan classic. It was…

  • My Mother’s Diagnosis

    My Mother’s Diagnosis

    Mom told me the story many times. She went to work that day. Felt a little off, but soldiered through. Shortly after lunch, however, she leaned against file cabinets, almost unable to stand. Her boss told her to go home. She still felt unwell, after a full day off of her feet. Heading to the…

  • “Autumn night…” a #tanka (10/6/23)

    “Autumn night…” a #tanka (10/6/23)

    10/6/23: fish Autumn night a reheated feast of seafood orzo an overhead flight, and still these cricket songs #tanka#micropoetry#poetry

  • Free-soaring Folly

    Free-soaring Folly

    How long will free-soarers ignore the fearful, trilling songs of unknown longing from their caged compatriots? How long will free-soarers fly on winds assured off the backs of their caged bretheren? How long before those free-soarers alight on a tree rooted in just soil, and find themselves permenantly perched, while their caged compatriots fly free?…

  • “the warmth…” a #tanka (9/29/23)

    “the warmth…” a #tanka (9/29/23)

    9/29/23: unprompted the warmth of her skin rainfall previous plans washed away #tanka#micropoetry#poetry