Tuesday, July 10, 2018



It Is Still Morning

It seems as if ages have passed
since the sun peaked above the horizon.

Since its first warm streaks of amber
graced the early dawn sky.

I sit and wonder as I watch the shadows
grow shorter with each advancing hour.

... But, ah yes, it is still morning.

How slowly the hours pass
now that I am alone with my thoughts.

I watch as each small flower bends its head
and turns its face to the sun.

Surely it must be time to move on
to new places unknown.

... But, ah yes, it is still morning.

The day presses on in endless hours
and time passes in single heart beats.

Soon it will be time to make new plans
but, I am stuck in some timeless loop.

It must be hours since I awoke
and forever since the sun first rose.

... But, ah yes, it is still morning ... forever morning.

Empty Lives

A hunger so deep it devours its host.
eating away at self-worth,
sucking out the spirit,
starving the mind.
A pain so intense that it defies explanation.
The want of food,
goes deeper than just the physical pangs.
It grows into an emotional hunger,
that wraps itself around its prey
strangling the life out of it,
leaving an empty shell.
A hollow aching is all that is left.

The Rest Is Silence

I screamed and no one heard
I cried and was ignored
Just like an injured bird
Whose wings no longer soared

I plead to deafen ears
That did not hear a word
In the pain of countless years
No compassion had been stirred

I asked and no one answered
The questions of the heart
The silence was like a cancer
From which I could not depart

Holding On

A single leaf
Survived the winter
Tenaciously hanging
Onto the bare branch

The heavy snows
And howling winds
Could not budge it
It remained resilient

It stood the test of time
Through many months
Trials and tribulations
Of the fierce season

Now spring is here
And the old must yield
To the green buds
Pushing from within

It could withstand
The harshest weather
But not the gentle
Nudging of new growth

Life goes in cycles
It cannot be stopped
The old must eventually
Make way for the new

Cleaning House

There are times
When being empty
Is to be full
To be open for what is to come next
Inviting new adventures
To fill the spaces
Left free by the emptiness
Being able to pick and choose
The things that
We truly want in our lives

Dew Drops
(Saturday morning, day break, on the porch)

of water
on the screen.
of life unseen.
of pure color
with delight.
let your soul
take flight.


Be quiet
Be still
Be peaceful
Do you hear it
Is it speaking to you
Is it calling
What is it saying

Be silent
Be patient
Be open
Be brave
Go inside yourself
Wait for a vision
From within

Be true
Be calm
Be loving
Reach out
It will find you
When you are ready
When it's time
When it is His time


The rain falls heavy
It will not cease
My heart is weary
It longs for peace

The message given
“Be still and know”
Inside I’m torn
Which way to go

Acutely aware
Of the sounds outside
From myself
I cannot hide

I turn inward
I search inside
Silence is
A healing guide


My world is a dream world,
As I sit and watch it crumble around me.
It is I who brought it to ruin,
I and no one else, who causes the decay,
Of a once great kingdom.

We all must at times retreat,
But not I, I continue to wage war.
A war which brought an end to,
All that I once held close to me.
So have many nations fell.

Lost And Found

In the early morning light
I turn around
And look to find myself
Only to discover
That I am lost once more.

In the darkness of the night
I assure myself
That I will find
The answer to the question
I fear too much to ask.

As I sit here in my world
I feel the truth
Is coming near
If only I can touch it
Before it destroys me.


ANN CHRISTINE TABAKA has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry, has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from publications. She lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her most recent credits are: Ariel Chart, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, Oddball Magazine, The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Trigger Fish Critical Review, Foliate Oak Review, Better Than Starbucks!, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, Scryptic Magazine, Ann Arbor Review, The McKinley Review.


  1. Outstanding Ink ! I will have to re-read each line, let it soak in awhile. So emotionally beautiful, endearing, soul reaching poems! Incredible ! Barbara Suen