Poetry ~ Waka
May is le mois de Marie. As a youth she loved this excuse to walk across the river hearing the metal on the soles of her shoes click click click like the dancers on Ed Sullivan AND on a school night to boot. Every evening, people would recite the Rosary.
pray for a while
tap-dance across the footbridge
evening walk home
© Tournesol ’15
beach house view
seagulls circle an old widow
muted wails
© Tournesol ‘ 15
She walked in the nursing home looking for her mother. The nurse pointed to the old woman by the window in the rocking chair. She gasped! It was not enough dementia had robbed her of her mind…
shrivelled rose
lost in her robe
scents linger
© Tournesol ’15
© Debbie HallBy: Debbie Hall
buttercup opens
awakening butterflies
morning caress
morning caress
blossom’s sweet nectar
butterfly’s treat
© Tournesol ’15
(Troiku)
Up the mountain
bread crumbs on the trail
white blossoms
up the mountain
soft petals brush my cheek
tickling
bread crumbs on the trail
old crow robs me blind
lost my way
white blossoms
fragrance lingers
leads the way
© Tournesol ’15
She loved her road trips and spinning those wheels, playing her music and singing aloud with an open window. Truck stops were spread out in timely fashions almost as if fast food industries knew when you had to eat but more likely to gas up and pee.
Her fuel gauge told her she should stop soon; she sees a rest-stop with picnic tables surrounded by pine trees. The place is deserted and she sighs with relief.
highway rest-stop
scented pine and Camembert
make-believe terrace
© Tournesol ’15
The girls were at the family cottage up North for the summer and the local girls met up with them to go on a picnic. With packed lunches in their backpacks, off they went towards the creek, skipping stones to the other side. This led them to a darker, damp terrain leading into the woods. Sounds of various birds and crickets were heard over the rushing water of the creek
The youngest, chubby girl started whining she was scared. One of the locals mocked her, “Ooooo, stranger danger!! Are you afraid of the boogie man?”. She squealed and said she’d rather wait by the water and they took off into the woods. Minutes felt like hours to chubby, so she started skipping rocks by the creek until she slipped on one looking strangely different. She took a stick to poke the odd looking shape…
Moss covered stone
sleeps lazily by the creek
army of ants
army of ants
secured by rock-hard shield
camouflaged with moss
© Tournesol`’15
Photo credits: Totoiriyaasagao Hiroshige at Wikipedia Commons
Morning glories
dawn unfolds such beauty
the old nun prays
the old nun prays
loving memories soothe
dusk awaits
© Tournesol ’15
priest and morning glory
how many times reincarnated
under pine tree law
© Basho
in deep silence
under the cherry tree
a young priest
© Chèvrefeuille
Late in the night, after her shift she walked through the bush, her shortcut to the Métro. As she stepped onto the deserted street she could not help but notice a huge light beam down at her. She looked up and saw it smile at her. She stood moments in awe, enthralled by the magnificence of its beauty. Surely this was a sign…a blessing for her week.
Showered with grace
moonbeams ignite lone path
echoes a mantra
© Tournesol ’15
She follows the inspector like a mid-day shadow. He scratches on his notepad, silently walking the perimeter of the weather-beaten house. It leans more towards the river now. She sighs with a heavy heart, not realizing how time and weather has bent the ancestral abode.
weighed memories
sagging shoulders slope
weathered house bows
by the bank
feeder swings on rusted wire
lives perch
© Tournesol ’15
Written for Carp Diem “Weatherbeaten” meme
Tournesol dans un Jardin 