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 and 2021,” published by Sweetycat Press. She is the author of 15 poetry books, and 1 short story book. She lives in Delaware, USA. She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and four cats. Her most recent credits are: The Phoenix; Eclipse Lit, Carolina Muse, Sand Hills Literary Magazine, Ephemeral Literary Review, The Elevation Review, The Closed Eye Open, North Dakota Quarterly, Tangled Locks Journal, Wild Roof Journal, The American Writers Review, Black Moon Magazine, Pacific Review, The Silver Blade, Pomona Valley Review, West Texas Literary Review

*(a complete list of publications is available upon request)

A Recipe for Hope

The book lay open to an empty page,
smudged with remnants of failed attempts.
In the background, memory plays a tune. 
Fold a teaspoon of desire into a cup of dreams.
Add a dash of love. Stir gently while heating 
over flames of inspiration. Lost in thought, 
I forget the recipe. Misplaced among echoes 
of some past life. Diligently I search my notes 
and files, edges worn thin and frayed. Outside, 
the moon slowly rises in a reddish sky. 
Days drift by in a desperate gasp,
wanting only to live again. I turn 
to the task at hand. Dinner will be late.
Once long ago, answers were found 
deep within myself. Now old age beckons, 
old age threatens. There goes that tune again.
Mindlessly stirring, I watch as each star 
coruscate into being. A million orbs surround me.
The timer chimes. I lift the lid. 
The recipe remains undone.
There are no pages left to turn. 
I walk away. I am far too old for this.

Lost in the Shadow of Obscurity

I cannot be you.
           I cannot even pretend.

And yet, there is so much longing in those words.

The tree that fell in the shadows
	knows            my secret.
I whispered it to her in a dream.
           Her nests lay spewed upon the ground.

Darkness is a lonely companion.
I remember once knowing light.
At least I thought I did.

Where did it go? Did the ghosts dismantle it?
           You are the light         I cannot touch you.

I cannot have what you have. You hold the prize.
You hold the ocean in your hand, 
           the birds all know your name. 
Your voice rings out in triumph.

You possess a brilliance that I thirst for.
I am lost in your radiance. 
           I can never be you.

Children of the Storm

I reach out to the heavens,
imploring the gods that be.
Have you forsaken your children,
           the children of the storm?

Conceived in a volcano of lust,
and birthed in a hurricane of despair. 
Is there nowhere we can turn to be free?

A rudimentary path is forged.
We walk on ice and fire.
Time has been abandoned 
           to the four winds.

Searching for meaning
in a world that shelters hate.
We have been discarded and forgotten.

Denied our existence 
we seek refuge from the past. 
The storm is raging,
           there is no future left to dream.

We are the children of an unforgiving storm.