SPIRITS OF THE WIND
Tanka 

Gerard John Conforti

Dedicated to Edward Crowley
and Sarah Tuchinsky

In memory of Robert Spiess

Spirits of the Wind is Gerard John Conforti's third book of tanka and in this one, his desire to dedicate his work to his friends and family expands as has his circle of support. Due to his childhood years being raised in an orphanage, his several years in and out of various mental hospitals and recovery programs, Conforti has had to learn to surround himself with an atmosphere of love and friendship as has no other person I know. Much of his time not spent on his writing goes to the care and nurturing of this group of people. Thus, when he writes his tanka poems, his awareness of the closeness and the necessity of these people is so actual that he dedicates each poem to his thoughts of that person.

His last book, For My Brother Victor & Elsa His Wife, the poems were the vehicles for Conforti's love for his brother Victor (who has since died). Spirits of the Wind now moves toward encompassing a wider circle of his support that has carried him through his grief.

Gerard Conforti writes in both the forms of haiku and tanka. Formerly he stayed with the  syllable-counting formula for his tanka, but now those rhythms are so much a part of his writing that he can allow himself the freedom to trust his inner voice.

Conforti's daily balance act between his mental states, though more severe for him, is not that much different from what others go through, also. Thus, his chronicle of his path, his thoughts given to words, his battles and his victories touch a portion of the lives of each of us.

It is an honor to be of help in bringing Gerard John Conforti's tanka to you.

Jane Reichhold

The day ends
and the night invades the stars
bringing them down
in a trail of fire
only to smother out in the galaxy

Sometimes, when I awake
after a soundless night of sleep
I can hear the rain
beating on the trees and streets
all day and into the following night

The autumn winds
pound the swaying trees
the tree boughs bouncing wildly
against the other branches
where the winds blow away the leaves

Sometimes, I am lost
on the paths of life
leading into the woods
the tree boughs hung
in the sorrow of day

In a small room
vibrating with music
the songs fill the night
and the loneliness sets in
like the pale moon in the solitary sky

Is it I
who feels the spirit of the winds
in the coldest days
or warmest nights
so insufferable is my beating heart

Like the spirits
moving from room to room
in and out of walls
into light and shadow
the voiceless voices

Today, a gloom
oppresses me
like the clouds
on windless days
unmoved

The storm of emotions
curls into clouds
like endless pain
tearing at me
like a ripping wind

It isn’t paranoia
I feel most of the time
it’s only a label
simply because
they need a name for it

It takes many days
for a storm to brew
but there are rays of light
streaming through the clouds
which break up the rage of day

On this late winter night
it feels like spring
and in late spring
it feels like summer
I think we have the timing right

One day,
mankind will discover the universe
and find more planets
like the Vikings discovered America
and the wars will begin again

If we think it’s lonely on earth
I’m sure the universe above us
will bring more solitude
on unknown deserts and mountains
of other planets

For Maureen

This coming summer
the heat of the noon sun
will rise from the traffic
and the roofs of houses
blazing on the steaming earth

In the summer rain
our embrace
will cool the heated winds
but for this relief
there are furious storms

After the passing rain
I can smell the green grass
and the honeysuckles
growing on the fence
across the building steps

I have traveled many States
and seen many mountains and meadows
fill with the life of spring
or frozen solid in winter
I have traveled many States

The clock on the night table
is ticking in the silence of night
each second claiming a life
and each second a reborn
the crying sound of a child

From out of the womb
comes each birth
and it is easier to be born
but difficult to die
which we avoid at all costs

I go from room to room
in the silence of day or night
my roommate sleeps
but he never greets the morning
and he is like a stranger to me

Across the rising sea
the fog blows onto land
and there is a chill
I feel walking from the shore
while the mist wets my face

Sometimes, when the voices
echo up the staircase
from the room on the first floor
the fury begins again
which is not a comfort to me

I love to live in silence
and this is the only way
I can sit beneath the lights
and write all I want
at two o’clock in the morning

It is disturbing to me
in this four story building
and I never know when
when the shouting begins again
to awaken the peaceful from sleep

There are moments
when I think of mountains and valleys
where there is peace and beauty
away from the furious crowds
far from the beauteous forest

I rejoice in my solitude 
when the world is soundless
and the moon shines brightly
with the spark of stars
which I hold in my heart

I’ve learned in life
there is danger on every street
I don’t have to go far
to witness how people live
in and out of shadows

For Mary

The bliss of a yellow moon
on this autumn night
glows upon the valley
slopping into meadows
the shadows cast upon the grass

The spinning full moon
rolls across the spring sky
From mountain to mountain
down over the meadows
and into the setting sea

Beneath the early spring morning
are cattle grazing in the meadows
of fresh green grass
from wooden fences
stretching across the fields

In the brooks
the water reflects the dawn
where the pale moon
climbs over the earth
where no cattle can graze

We dwell day by day
living as best as we can
but birth is short
and life is shorter
and death waits the stone

The glowing clock
on the towering steeple
strikes midnight
but the morning breaks the silence
of the clock

In an out of the library
above the winding street
people come and go
with the knowledge of books
tucked under their arms

Across the N.Y. Harbor
the World Trade Center buildings
collapsed into dust
but the other skyscrapers glitter
despite the terror attack

From the window of my room
the blinds are open for sunlight
to stream into the room
which brightens the day
despite the bare tree boughs in winter

Soon, the warmth of spring
will bring the winter trees to life
even when it snows
in the early month of March
the red buds come out of the twigs

I remember well
the paths in the woods
I used to walk in all kinds of weather
when it would rain or snow
the sound of the snow would fall

In the silence of woods
the autumn leaves
would crackle
beneath my steps
but the traffic would awaken the day

For Tynecca

I do hope
for the best in everyone
with some determination
the sky is endless
an the stars are touchable

You never know
what someone is thinking
but by the sound of their voice
and their mannerism
there must be something there

Only the strongest winds
can bring down a tree
rooted in the earth
but only the strongest sunlight
can grow another tree in its’ place

For two decades
I’ve been through tough times
but when someone believes in something
willing to seriously pursue
they are stronger than the winds

When I’m alone
I’m always thinking of something
positive or negative
but positive is good
and negative thinking is a waste of time

I understand well
what emotional turmoil can do
I’ve been through most of it
but climbed to the top
and that’s better than giving up

As John Keats once wrote
the miserable
are the best artists and writers
and this will always be
because no one likes oppression

For Tina

I think experience
is sometimes better than books
for experience teaches one
about what life really is
and books are words ready for life

There is a maze in life
and this depends where one goes
to escape the traps
which teaches all of us
where not to go

I’ve walked many places
and lived in places
most people wouldn’t want to live
I know drugs destroy people
and that solitude is sometimes better

If it weren’t for my writing
I would be lost
somewhere in the crowd
of unknown faces
passing in the night

The rooming houses
I’ve lived in for years
kept me writing
despite the solitude
and the chaos around me

I learn something new
every passing day
but I know
I will make mistakes
despite good intentions

I don’t have to watch T.V.
to see what’s around me
I see it every day
wavering near and far
where good and evil reside

For Karen

I think it’s going to rain tonight
for days and nights to come
but I’m ready
for any tears I may shed
despite the odds I face

I wish the sun
would come out each passing day
and it does
sometimes without showing itself
’til the storm clears

I see my friends and family
dying off, one by one
and I never hear their voices
except in memory
long after they’re gone

Our minds
are flooded with knowledge
which is deeper
than the ocean floor
and as infinite as the universe

Just look
what one cell did to us
a very long time ago
it created peace and chaos
which has gone on for centuries

For Dee

Today, the clouds
will pass over the trees and houses
pattering rain
on everything in its wake
and so is life, sometimes

It’s dark outside
except for the glow of street lights
flooding the streets with light
just like the rain is doing
reflecting the glow of light

When I was younger
the blizzards often came in winter
but since then
there’s hardly any snowfall
so something must have gone awry

I’m beginning to tire
but I only have a few more poems
to write in verse
after writing for six hours non-stop
the night has taken its toll

In my apartment
I can hear the heat
clinging an clanging the floor radiators
it must be very cold outside
for the heat to rise

There are times
when dreams dissolve like stars
only to reappear
the following night
brighter and warmer than ever