Check my latest post on my Blogspot, Fallen Leaf (haibun) at Tournesol dans un Jardin
A story and haiku both written in English and in French.
Fallen leaf (haibun)
Category: Photography
False hope (shadorma/senryû)
Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin at BlogSpot.
When I saw this photo taken by Georgia at Basket and Sekhmet’s Library, I had to smile. I had taken a phto of 2 pay phones in the Métro last Spring. The fact that these are near such a lovely green space stirred contradictions…beauty, ugliness, pleasure and pain and this is what my muse came up with for Bastet’s Shadorma Prompt at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie.
(shadorma)
Assaults lurk
In the dead of night
behind trees
far from phones
cyclists never heard her screams
would have dialed for help.
(senryû)
predators always
study their territory
and their prey.
(shadorma)
phones by parks
gives false illusions
of safety
late at night
listen up! one`s never safe
when monsters still breathe
© Tournesol ’14
Now to make this fun a little and give me more of a challenge, I am adding my photos of these phones in the Métro. Having looked at them, my muse seems fixated on sad affairs.
(shadorma)
unused phones
ever see someone
actually
Use a phone?
subways are sometimes seedy
all’s in the open
(senryû)
people make believe
blind to sordid actions
“I ain’t seen nothin’”
(shadorma)
Unless there`s
a Samaritan
does good deeds
calls for help
shouts out loud scaring monsters
back into their hole.
(tilus)
Wherever you go, bring
along a
friend.
© Tournesol ’14
Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin, by Cheryl-Lynn Roberts
Couples (Carpe Diem – Tan Renga Challenge #47 “How rare the sight”
This prompt is a tan renga challenge. Our host, Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, has chosen a haiku written by Magical Mystical Teacher (MMT).
It was her response on this haiku by Basho:
how rare!
on leaving the mountain
the first eggplant
MMT’s response haiku was the following:
how rare the sight—
yellow blossoms brushing
the sky with light
© MMT
now we are to write a tan renga two lines of 7 syllables to this haiku. Our host`s tan renga is here:
how rare the sight—
yellow blossoms brushing
the sky with light (MMT)
I always will love her
underneath the Laburnum (Chèvrefeuille)
I struggled with various responses because I had several images of “yellow blossoms” from my personal life. So I broke it down to two and here they are:
Across the street from the church at my hometown, there is a small garden by the river, with various flowers. I remember taking a picture in June of the lovely yellow lilies and wished I could come back later in the summer to catch the flora at its peak in blossoming. Well, I did not but here is snapshots from June.
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how rare the sight—
yellow blossoms brushing
the sky with light (MMT)
Across the church, newly weds
yellow lilies cheer them on.
(c) Tournesol ’14
Of course there are also lovely daisies and sun roots in my friend’s garden in Bromont facing several mountains. This is where we went to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary last Sunday. A huge tent was pitched next to the Willow tree…what a lovely day celebrating such a lovely couple. To this day, I have never met a loving couple like these two people. You can feel the love they share. They still cuddle and always hold hands sitting close together.
how rare the sight—
yellow blossoms brushing
the sky with light (MMT)
Underneath the Willow tree
sun roots scan the mountains.
(c) Tournesol ’14
Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin
Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge #47, MMT’s “how rare the sight”
Early worm catches the fruit (haiga)
Anticipation
ripened fruit awaits, but
worm beat me
© Tournesol
Originally posted by Cheryl-Lynn at Tournesol dans un jardin
Silent Sunday
Wordless Wednesdays
Capturing the sun last Wednesday since it’s raining today…Bon Mecredi! Clr
Winter Shelters (haibun)
Today the prompt is “forest” at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. Here is a beautiful haiku by our host of Carpe Diem:
listen to the wind
that moves through the forests –
buzzing mosquitos
© Chèvrefeuille
I was trying to remember times I was deep in a forest besides camping. Then I recalled times when I used to cross country ski in the mountains…not huge ones, mind you…more hills…Mount St Bruno was such a lovely place to hike, snow shoe and ski. It has alpine skiing too even if it is a tiny mountain; it is lit up atnight and only 15 minutes from downtown Montreal. So that`s pretty cool.
My favourite place to cross country was in Rougemont, where my son actually lives now. You go up up up for a long time. But you do get in the forest quick enough and can shed a few layers of sweaters under that winter wind breaker. It is a great place to just sit and admire the scenery. And once you get high enough, then you go down down down for a long time…lt is not too steep so the descent is really lovely.
Cross country
against strong winds
forest shelters
(c) Tournesol ’14-08-08
Childhood scents (haibun)
I knew I was going to be a smoker eventually. When I was very young, sitting in the back seat of my father’s car, I couldn’t wait to have him light that first cigarette. The sweet scent of tobacco at just the first puff. (No worries I quit smoking a while ago)
Chevy Impala
red leather seats
Sweet Caporal
In the summer my mother was so busy hairdressing we would go swimming at the local pool. The river was reserved ONLY when adults were around. The pool was not the same, opening your eyes under water was such a habit in lakes and rivers but boy did it burn the eyes in the pool and the smell was so strong. It smelled like GrandMaman’s laundry room when she had to soak sheets for a long time to get them white.
blue water,
cement floor
laundry scents
When I was ten, we started camping, mostly close by weekends in Vermont but for vacation, we would head out every year to Old Orchard, Maine. The owner of a huge camp ground was friends with my parents and less than a mile from the ocean. I keep thinking of lobsters and steamed clams dipped in melted butter eating at the picnic table.
pine needles,
oil lantern heats the tent
salt water air.
GrandMaman had a huge vegetable garden not counting the flower beds. August until end of September was canning and pickling time for all her produce. The kitchen was always busy. I still don`t know how she managed to keep borders at her house, cook, clean, garden and still be a midwife. She had to stay busy to support herself since GrandPapa passed when I was 6.
hot stove and veggies
chez GrandMaman
vinegar stings
She often got a phone call late in the evening and I would often cry and plead with her not to go. She would wash, put baby powder as her choice of a midwife’s cologne…makes sense now that I think about it. She then put on her white uniform, white nylons and white “sensible” shoes.
Ivory soap
traces of pressed uniform,
baby powder lingers
My mother was a hairstylist and I grew up with our living room converted into a beauty salon. Still today, the lull of a hair dryer makes me sleepy, the smell of hair spray, permanent and hair dyes brings me back to the 1960’s. I still ask my hairdresser now and then if I can sweep the floor; brings me back to my youth and my chores.
shampoo, peroxide
hair spray, conditioners
hair dryer lulls
Of course when my mom would get ready to go out I knew she was going to be out late when she put on her make up, curling those eyelashes, painting her lips, fluffed her natural curly hair with her fingers…but that last touch…Youth Dew scent, that blue bottle…always put on too much…she loved perfumes!
lips tattoo my cheeks
softness of her creamed hands,
Youth Dew idles
(c) Tournesol ’14-08-06
Submitted for: Carpe Diem Ghost Writer 20 The Scent of Poetry
Same post can be found at Blogspot – Tournesol dans un jardin
Willow Tree (haiga) (CPHK – #530 Mist)
willow tree
filters glaring star
birds serenade.
© Tournesol ‘14/08/02
Submitted for: Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #530 Mist
River listens (shadorma – tilus)
This prompt, Chèvrefeuille has discovered Shadorma, a short poetry-form from Spain. I have had the privilege to have learned about this through Bastet in her weekly prompts at Mindlovemiserys Menagerie. I think I was drawn to it as well because Oliana is an island in Spain…so it was most fitting that I learn this poetry-form. The Shadorma is a poetic form consisting of a six-line stanza (or sestet). Each stanza has a syllable count of three syllables in the first line, five syllables in the second line, three syllables in the third and fourth lines, seven syllables in the fifth line, and five syllables in the sixth line (3/5/3/3/7/5) for a total of 26 syllables. A poem may consist of one stanza, or an unlimited number of stanzas (a series of shadorma). I sometimes like to add another form, Bastet introduced to us called Tilus which is 3 lines consisting of 10 sylables 6/3/1 with Shadorma forms to get a message across.
Chèvrefeuille sought the internet and ran into several examples of Shadorma, but this one by Richard Ankers is was one he found beautiful.
Emerald,
Verdant grass of dreams;
Swaying free;
Living free;
Gathered together as one:
Most peaceful landscape.
© Richard Ankers
Here is another lovely example written by Jen at Blogitorloseit.com
Memories
with crocodile teeth
overwhelm
the phoenix –
plumes turn to ash in his mouth –
he singes his jaws
© Jen of Blog It Or Lose It
Here is Chèvrefeuille’s first try at it.
red Roses
sharing their perfume,
morning mist
and the soft breeze
giving it to the whole wide world,
unknown love
© Chèvrefeuille
I think that is a wonderful offering…I could smell the scent of the roses in this poem. Didn`t you?
(shadorma)
salty tears
my river listens
challenges
life’s choices
water roars over the dam
releasing sorrow.
(tilus)
waterfall swallows tears
and then I
smile.
© Tournesol ‘14/08/02
Tournesol dans un Jardin 
