Creative Writing: Five Glasgow Tanka

Feature by James Roderick Burns | 12 Dec 2006
How wonderful – snow

bright and short-lived descending

with equal magic

on the couple from Iran

and our wide-eyed one year old.


The ice cube explodes

in my glass of grain whisky

as ice sheets dissolve

under the polar bear's feet

and I sit twiddling thumbs.


Savour of hotdog

and overhanging bosom

and raw woody ink –

circles in the inferno

of this bookless passenger.


When after an hour

you appear in low-key style

between the butcher's

and the green neon bar sign

my heart empties like a vault.


In the gilded hall

I shuck my specs to avoid

the meaningless shit

on the lecture screen, these blank

and eloquent marble eyes.