Poetry ~ Waka
Nothing nicer than a little break with Indian Summer just before the long cold months ahead. The trees are bare, the parks are empty, children back in school all day now. She sits on the park bench to soak up the warm sun with her parka on her lap.
Inhales quiet
sunshine winking
almost naked trees
© Tournesol’15
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ca/2015/06/carpe-diem-time-machine-10-indian.html
boiled rice slop
his old lady fans the treat
with evening coolness (Basho)
cups of green tea clink
toast of love and family
chanting songs,
grandmother’s warm embrace
cousins holding hands
© Tournesol’15
Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge #91, Basho’s boiled rice slop
It is theMontreal International Jazz Festival that is here now with horns blaring, pianos declaring and sexy throaty singers making our hearts melt. At least a dozen stages outdoors setup in the entertainment district…minutes from cobblestone streets of Old Montreal, China Town and the Old Port. Ten marvelous days and nights of singing, dancing, swaying and slow dancing too.
Sax wails in pain
sultry baritone strings
lovers jive
© Tournesol ’15
tiny grey mouse
scurries off in the field
nervous as can be
long-haired tomcat
lazily opens one eye
puzzled as can be
mouse sighs
maternal love for her lump
relieved as can be
© Tournesol ’15
crazed gnats buzz
seek prey by the riverside
stunned
they all turn away
saw a tear roll down her cheek
tiny but strong
even gnats have compassion
despite small bellies
tear filled face
message of true chagrin
© Tournesol ’15
https://haikuhorizons.wordpress.com/2015/06/21/haiku-horizons-prompt-tear/
At Carpe Diem Tokubetsudesu #49 at the seashore (Vision Quest reprise) we are to write a series of haiku interrelated and the three prompts are:
Waves — seagulls — sundown
Having written a few posts in the past few days about the beaches of Maine, I found this easy to put myself back in time to moments like this.
mere gourmands
sift through catch of the day
against the waves
seagulls hustle
before high tide
wipe out
sated at last
mooning over royal sky,
sundown’s rest
© Tournesol ’15
sur sa pierre tombale
verse des larmes pour son père
le corbeau muet
vent doux souffle
écoute ces paroles d’un être cher
le silence cri
© Tournesol `15
Times change since her passing. On this 22nd day of June, a new birthday ritual will be practiced, today and each year thereafter…
Ripples tickle
feet float on rapid currents
birthday giggles
© Tournesol ’15
The family would pile in the Chevrolet Impala and drive up the windy roads to Old Orchard, Maine. She loved camping in that pine forest despite sweeping the tent twice a day (or more!) of those dried up pine needles.
The only thing she could not do which was such a natural part of her being, was walking barefoot on that bed of pine needles. She could walk on gravel and dirt roads but never on that blanket of prickly pine needles.
Their father would leave the girls and their mother for a week while he drove up further to PA on a business trip. Those were the best of times…just the girls, relaxing. Rising only when the sun warmed the tent; toasting bread on the fire and then walking a mile down that shady road surrounded by old wooden cottages and pine trees…so many gigantic pine trees leading up to the beach where they listened to the sounds of rolling waves, seagulls and youngsters giggling…except of course for the odd melodies on their transistor radio…
Salt water beckons
scent of pine interrupted
seagulls greet
© Tournesol ’15
June 22nd, first day of summer, the day after summer solstice, she sets out to the rapids. Today is a tribute to her departed mother who was born on this day in 1926. She will also cleanse her feet in the waters of the rapids of la rivièvre Richelieu marking her mother’s first anniversary in her eternal resting place…christening this new beginning.
Waves roll with force
declare birth of an angel
in heaven
She sits on one of the rocks by the rapids, allowing the waves to splash and wet her feet and then she dunks them in the busy rumbling water marking a new tradition en homage pour Colombe, sa mère.
Ripples tickle
feet float on rapid currents
birthday giggles
© Tournesol ’15
