Ann Christine Tabaka (USA)

Ann Christine Tabaka (USA)
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 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 Phoenix; Burningword Literary Journal; Muddy River Poetry Review; The Scribe, 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 Stray Branch, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore.
*(a complete list of publications is available upon request)
A Foolish Man
Legend tells of a foolish man.
He stands before himself,
he stands before no one else,
answers to none.
A wake of destruction in his path.
His calloused fingers match his calloused heart.
Black streaks of loathing and desire
overturning any evidence of compassion,
if ever compassion drew a breath.
Seeking unattainable dreams,
he axes down the forest
to make room for his redemption,
senselessly destroying all.
Barren wastelands stand,
where once green woodlands thrived.
Towering edifices of aspired wealth
reign over impoverished hope.
Lives crushed under the weight of
a headstrong need to overmaster.
Razing all that is beautiful and right
to obtain a fool’s portion.
He has crept into our world
he lives among us now.
* Published by The Writers and Readers Magazine, October 2020
A Story to be Told
So many souls lost,
among pages of the past.
And yet, we continue trying
to write our own destiny.
How can I not know which door to open,
when I have stood here for so long?
A lifetime of aspirations
compose my opus magnum.
There is nothing left to ponder
as time sifts through my fingers.
And far, far away we sail upon a moonlit sea,
traversing a realm of imagined thought.
Destination unknown,
heading for the final chapter.
We are all, but a story to be told.
* Published by the World of Myth, July 2020
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
kuzynki 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.
* Published by Ponder Savant, September 2020

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s