Destination Unknown & Other Poetry by Ann Christine Tabaka

Carpe Diem Series

Wander through the mystical and exciting words of Ann Christine Tabaka! When I read her work I feel a strong sense of freedom and intrigue that eagerly pulls me into the next phrase.

My Favorite Line, ” Fantasies that never were
are now forevermore.”


Destination Unknown

Turnstile gate swings open
commuter trains rush by.

World weary travelers face another week,
never knowing one day from the next.

She stands on the platform,
watching and waiting for her train.

Dreams of far-off destinations,
holding a crumpled ticket in hand,

imagining all the places
she would like to go.

Visiting exotic worlds,
timeless visions fill her mind.

Eyes closed to wonderment,
she looks inside herself.

Golden cites rise above clouds.
Purple meadows stretch on forever.

Sparkling diamond seas,
white ibis soar overhead.

Suddenly the ticket becomes her escape,
as she boards a train to everywhere.

A whistle blows and she is gone,
riding into the unknown.


The Heart of Winter

December shed her wings and flew away
giving room for January to grow anew
sunlight shimmers in frosty air
crystals sparkle from every branch
ice laced winter morn
pristine snow covers all
time is frozen – in a whisper
enchanting beauty of a harsh season
slowly waiting for spring thaw


Lost Afternoon

Pinwheel afternoon
spinning on a breeze.

Sun smiling down
on a lazy day.

Woven dreams
spun of gold.

Grand escapades of imagination
floating on a whisper.

Fantasies that never were
are now forevermore.

I never put that much into life,
life just seemed to happen.

Standing here too long
I lose my way.


We Live for the Night

Nocturnal sky,
starlit filled.
You took my hand in yours.

Path well worn
beneath our feet.
We’ve walked this way before.

Legends live within us.
Heaven opens its vault.
Blackness cloaks us in its sheltering arms.

A whip-poor-will calls our names.
We vanish into
a star-studded night.

We dance among the galaxies
never looking back.

The night goes on forever.
We live for this.


I Want to Hide Away

I want to hide away inside the warmth of your smile,
the softness of your touch.
I want to crawl inside your skin to be one with you.
to fly into your arms – safe and sheltered in your love.

your comforting voice cooing from the nest,
inviting me to enter in.
climbing ever higher – we reach the clear blue sky,
to soar above peril and atrocity.

I want to hide away to become lost upon the breeze,
carried within the storm.
a whirlwind of desire,
never letting go of what I found in you.

as time distills imagination into being,
we become the sanctum that we seek,
shutting out all that is not fair and true.
hiding forever in each other’s love.


Artist:

Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She is the winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year, her bio is featured in the “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020,” published by Sweetycat Press. Chris has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from numerous publications. Her work has been translated into Sequoyah-Cherokee Syllabics, into French, and into Spanish. She is the author of 13 poetry books. She has been published micro-fiction anthologies and short story publications.  Christine lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and four cats. Her most recent credits are: The American Writers Review, The Scribe Magazine, The Phoenix, Burningword Literary Journal, Muddy River Poetry Review, The Silver Blade, Silver Birch Press, Pomona Valley Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Foliate Oak Review, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore.

Follow:

Website: https://annchristinetabaka.com

Who Could Have Known? & Other Poetry by Ann Christine Tabaka

To What We Lost – Ann Christine Tabaka

Ann Chrstine Tabaka takes us through lost relationships, lost love, lost time. Capturing the heaviness and weight of these, she helps the world feel seen in these relatable predicaments that life brings us to.


Who Could Have Known?

Who could have known – a house so small
could be so large and empty?

Cold, a hungry wolf – rips through my rib cage.
Chilling emotions – ice that will not melt.

Together/alone we make our beds – each on separate paths.
No look or touch can penetrate through
a life that has turned to salt.

The vastness of the space around you grows
with every breath you take.

Trees topple at the sound of your voice,
so filled with grief.

Where did we go wrong? Where did we venture off?
Lost within the weariness of time and neglect,
we never noticed the parting of rivers.

Once a spark/love so vibrant – now withered.
The emptiness grows with each passing day …
who could have known?


Old Woman – Staring Back

Old woman –
she sits alone.
Stares out a dingy window,
watching children play.
She wonders if –
she is “living in a shoe.”

Glass reflection –
reveals an image staring back.
She sees a face – she does not recognize.
Leathered skin, pocked with age,
marking a harsh life.

There is no hope, when hope has fled.
Time cannot be recaptured.
Sorrow lives –
where joy once abound.

Gone – is it gone?
Where did it go?
Things that bestow the greatest bliss
bring the deepest sorry.
A bird that flies her nest,
a song that ends too soon,
a child that goes astray.

Days are all the same now –
counting moments of the past.
I am that old woman.
staring back – at myself.


Sinking into Night

Sun setting behind trees.
Branches swallow grief.
You were never there for me –
never
for yourself.
Brown rules over green,
as gray paints the dusk.

Marbled sky slowly descending,
floating in a pool of tears.
Cathedral bells – a death rattle
to Ophelia’s dream
sinking into night.


Seeking Lost Love

We seek –
looking past each other
with barren eyes.

Clouds drift across the moon.
We stand in darkness – hiding
from ourselves.

Dulcet voices once spoke of love,
now vitriol oozes a vast wasteland.

Windswept leaves gather at the doorway
to my life, never open, always latched.

Footsteps –
trample a broken heart.
Crumbled existence, lost desire.

Telltale love, and other such stories follow us.
We read, yet do not heed.

Heads hang, hands held, we go about our lives,
never knowing what could have been.

Emptiness devours sins of the past –
we continue on our way.

Lonely/lost/forgotten, yet together,
and as far apart as we can be.
We seek for what cannot be found.


A Country Western Song

You left me waiting there
like some country western song,
♭♬♪♫
neglected/broken-hearted,
not knowing what to do.
So much love/effort/time went into my part.
Now I wonder if there is
any space left for me.

Standing in the shadows – looking for a sign,
The music takes me home again.
♭♬♪♫
Patching together a quilted sky,
of blue and purple lies –
with threads of blood and sorrow.

I can feel the movement of the highway,
as I travel far from this place.
Riding in the monster’s belly,
searching for love once more.

Singing along with the radio,
I find my rhythm.
The words are far too familiar,
“you left me waiting there.”
♭♬♪♫


Poet:

Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She is the winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year, Her bio is featured in the “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020,” published by Sweetycat Press. Chris has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from numerous publications. Her work has been translated into Sequoyah-Cherokee Syllabics, and into Spanish. She is the author of 12 poetry books. She has recently been published in several micro-fiction anthologies and short story publications.  Christine lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and four cats. Her most recent credits are: The American Writers Review; The Phoenix; Burningword Literary Journal; Muddy River Poetry Review; The Write Connection; The Scribe, North of Oxford, Pomona Valley Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Foliate Oak Review, The Stray Branch, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore.

Follow:

Website: https://annchristinetabaka.com/

A Taste for Life & Other Poems by

The Heroines Among Us

Family members hold a bit of power in our lives and they can choose to have that power be used for good or evil. Ann Christine Tabaka writes about the incredible women in her life, her Babcia (Grandmother) and her Mother, who helped her survive violently abusive alcoholic father & grandfather. These seemingly small acts of loving, saving, and protecting make the everyday heroines that walk among us.


A Taste for Life

My Babcia’s tiny two room apartment,
a refuge in turbulent times.
A retreat from harsh reality.
I can see it in my mind.
Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn, New York.
Polish and Jewish part of town.
Bakeries, butcher shops, churches, and parks.
Streets always crowded.
Invariably the same journey,
train, then subway, then walk,
and walk, and walk.
Forever it seemed.
Trudging up three flights of narrow,
well-worn stairs, as rickety as herself.
It kept her spry.
We were poor, but she was poorer still.
Everything she had was used,
other people’s discard.
She had very little.
Things she never had, she gave.
Scrimped and saved to provide
a feast whenever we would visit.
Peasant fare, exotic to me.
A treat to the senses.
The smell of Bigos, Kapusta, Kielbasa,
all the delights of home.
My first taste of pot roast,
string beans and mushrooms.
Not those anemic white mushrooms
purchased in a store.
The pungent wild Polish Wood Mushroom,
handpicked, dried, and sent from
kuzyni in the old country.
Tastes I recreate today.
Tastes that bring comfort and love.
Memories of a land I never knew,
except in my heart and soul.
Tradition carried by aroma and taste.


I Remember Her

I remember her
standing there,
outstretched arms of love.
Taking in all our sins,
she paid the penance,
saying her Hail Marys.
Forgiving all forgiveness,
in her martyr way.
Her quiet strength
filled the room.
Keeping all pain to herself,
no one knew she was there.
Present, yet unperceivable
was her whispered prayer.
She held no malice,
spoke no hate,
though tortured was her lot.
She faded from existence
just as she arrived,
alone and unnoticed,
by all but me.
I remember her
standing there,
outstretched arms of love.


Wash Behind Your Ears

“Remember to wash behind your ears.”
Words we recall from childhood.
Our mother’s voice never leaves us,
it is always there throughout our lives …
guiding,
comforting,
teaching,
carrying us over difficult times.
We hear it when we least expect,
when we need it most.
Embedded in our psyche,
implanted in our flesh.
“Be kind to others.”
“Always share.”
“Don’t fight.”
So much wisdom lost
to past generations.
In our mind we hear the words,
but do we listen?
Do we heed counsel?
We are amused by
“Don’t run with scissors.”
Yet, we run with scissors every day.
Not sharp metal implements,
but the dangerous actions we engage in.
“Remember to say your prayers.”
“Wash behind your ears.”
Words that follow us throughout our lives.


Poet:

Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She is the winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year, Her bio is featured in the “Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2020,” published by Sweetycat Press. Chris has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from numerous publications. Her work has been translated into Sequoyah-Cherokee Syllabics, and into Spanish. She is the author of 11 poetry books. She has recently been published in several micro-fiction anthologies and short story publications.  Christine lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and four cats. Her most recent credits are: The American Writers Review; The Phoenix; Burningword Literary Journal; Muddy River Poetry Review; The Write Connection; The Scribe, North of Oxford, Pomona Valley Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Foliate Oak Review, The Stray Branch, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore.

Follow:

Website: https://annchristinetabaka.com/

https://www.amazon.com/Ann-Christine-Tabaka/e/B06XF2PWSK?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1564488528&sr=8-1