one gru at a time (haibun)

Once there was a boy who walked along the beach with his grandfather. The boy could barely match his tall grandfather’s gait but he did not give up, jumping and skipping next to him sticking his chest out when he caught up to him.

They approached some drift wood and GrandPapa led the little one to sit by him and watch the waves forming rows and rows of petticoats. “Ah, cela me fait souvenir des bons moments quand ta mamie était toute jeune.” He sighed and appeared to be in his own world for a long time. Jonathan was only half listening to his grandfather because he often talked about times that he knew very little about.

He started fidgeting from sitting for too long and fell to his knees taking handfuls of sand and putting his ear to it as he slowly let the sand sift through his fingers. GrandPapa looked at Johnathan and started chuckling. He asked him, why he was putting the sand to his ear like that.

His grandson looked up at his grandfather with a slight air of annoyance. « Bien voyons, GrandPapa. J’écoute. Mon prof m’a dit que dans le sable il y a des milliers d’histoires…alors, j’écoute »

waves carry tomes
drifting from faraway
yesteryear’s tales

©Tournesol’17/03/24

Translations:

Ah, cela me fait souvenir des bons moments quand ta mamie était toute jeune. 
Ah, that brings wonderful moments to mind when your nana was very young.

Bien voyons, GrandPapa, J’écoute. Mon prof m’a dit que dans le sable il y a des milliers d’histoires…alors, j’écoute »
Come now, Grandpa, I’m listening. My teacher told me that in the sand, there are millions of stories…so, I’m listening.” N.B. in French "histoire" means story but also history.

Inspired by Chèvrefeuille post at Carp Diem Haiku Kai

A waka story …once upon a time (haibun) ~ TheSecretKeeper

Once upon a time, there lived an old English professor who retired in a small cottage in a village by the Arabian Sea with his wife. With this new free time, he could now delve in his passion and became a great poet. He spent his days at the kitchen table writing smart anecdotes about this and that and everything else.

Sometimes, if he was searching for the right word, his eyes would wander out the window at the gardener, sitting among the moon flowers, hyacinth and jasmine, inhaling the delicate fragrance of her babies. His secret love for her had never changed, even after 50 years.

Evenings, the elderly couple liked catching the international news . Today was especially important to learn the results of the presidential election in that foreign country called U.S.A.

He stared, dumbfounded at the name of the new president elect and could not believe his ears! “The world, as we know it, with this boorish leader, Flora, will never be the same,” he whispered, “I’m afraid this man’s greed and narcissism combined, will have voters climbing the walls to escape the wrath of this man.”

scent of jasmine
away from toxic meadows
calming and healing

©Tournesol’17/03/22

cat’s eyes (troibun)

Which tree will the hummingbird choose this year, she wonders, looking out the window from her dining room. Rocking in her old maple chair, the constant groan is weighing on her eyelids. Suddenly, eyes widen as a bird sets on her balcony.

starling sings her song
dawn of spring
cat’s eyes follow

starling sings her song
pre-season rehearsal
practice makes perfect

dawn of spring
sun melts snow
earth finally revealed

cat’s eyes follow
on the windowsill
sleepy fly stirs

©Tournesol’17/03/20

Written for:
Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserys Menagerie

A troiku is a new form of haiku created by Chèvrefeuille. To learn more how to write a troiku, click

Behind shallow masks(troibun) daily moments Mar.8/17

I am almost finished reading George Orwell’s 1984. Yes, it takes me a long time because I find it depressing and so I jump to The Essential Rumi now and then and Love Poems by Rumi.

I have also been watching old war movies where masses revolt in the name of solidarity and fairness. This makes me think of my encounters with workplace disputes in the past 30 years…yes, a little more than 30 but let’s leave it at that out of vanity. [snickers]

behind their masks
pretense of brotherhood
hidden agendas

behind their masks
screaming justice for all
texture of envy

pretense of brotherhood
renouncing authority
all for one, one for all

hidden agendas
lusting for power
polarity rules

Are there ever winners in workplace disputes? What does management seek? What does staff want? Are there a few isolated incidents or has it become an unhealthy workplace environment? There are never any easy answers. Each side holds his cards closely to the chest and the games ensue.

I don’t think things have changed that much since the ‘70’s. Well, yes, for women they have…indeed they certainly have even if there is still room to improve but that is life is it not?

Is it not our goal to always push ourselves to be the best person that we are? Is it not a desire to personally reach some form of clarity, enlightenment…nirvana? Well, okay, that is a bit much but older readers will certainly be bobbing their heads and agree that that is really all one can do…the best that you can. Ultimately, ask yourself, really, are you doing the best that you feel you really can? If someone would offer you a 40% increase in salary to do better, what would you change? That answer will say a lot…

©Tournesol’17/03/08 Continue reading “Behind shallow masks(troibun) daily moments Mar.8/17” →

nature’s pulse (haibun)

This morning I read this prompt hoping to have inspiration for the entire day. My intention was to write something later in the week after my work shift late in the night. But, the words of our host, Chèvrefeuille already teased my muse that I had to write something before I left for work.

We are inspired by a beautiful poem by Rumi:

We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee;
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.
We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!
Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee?
We and our existences are really non-existence;
thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.
We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.
Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us!
Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.
© Rumi

Our host says:

[“What has this to do with the poem for today? Well … what can I say? In the peom of today Rumi is speaking about “existence” and with that came my “revalation” to tell you a little bit about existentialism, because that was the first thing I thought about. Maybe that’s just a coincedence, because I am reading Nietzsche’s “Also Sprach Zarathustra” at the moment, one of Nietzsche’s most famous works. And existence triggered me to look at existentialism …¸”

our host has written a beautiful haiku in response to this theme:

a game of chess
played in the shadow of lion banners –
the wind unseen

© Chèvrefeuille

This reminded me when I chant in the spring, summer and autumn, I seem to see the trees, flowers and grass responding to my words as I walk. Here is my contribution to this post:

nature’s pulse (haibun)

Being a water sign she has always felt closely related to the water. As a teenager, she remembers writing an essay about swimming on Lake Champlain where she spent many summers in Vermont. But this time, she did not swim across to the point of the island to rest on the floating pier. This time, she just swam until she could no longer keep her head above water and her favourite mode of swimming was under water. In her essay, she writes how she gets close to the fish, the rocks the discarded bottle at the bottom of the lake. The fish swim past her but some swim along her and she becomes one with the water.

The naïve part of the essay was that she let herself drown. She was too young to realize that she didn’t have to drown to be part of the water and nature. She knows now when she is sailing on a catamaran, she is part of the wind with her jib, with the hull, part of the swell of the water.

Just as when she swam underwater, she is part of more than the water, even when she is sitting on a rock by the riverside she is part of the trees and the sun that dries her cheeks…

by the riverside
water splashes on her feet
minnows delight

rumble of rapids
gulls’ screaming – emotions freed
to her heartbeat
cascading with intention
spilling over dams

©Tournesol’17/03/07

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Daily moments – reflections of nature’s pulse, March 7 2017

Writing process (daily moments March 5/17)

~~Plus que ça change,~~
~~plus~~
~~c’est pareille.~~

Far from original and lacking imagination, she crosses off the lines and taps her pen rhythmically staring out her patio window. It was as if the bare branches of the elm tree could give her a sign or perhaps it was the buzz of the traffic that was humming her verses. Tap tap tap, she stared and yet she did not see anything outside that window. She was in her own world, the pen stopped tilting, her breathing slowed and who knows where she was. Perhaps she was in the land of Calliope and Thalia filling her mind with farfetched narratives she could later interpret with her own voice.

A car honks; her pen drops from the loud intrusion and brings her back from her brief reverie. Her mind goes back to a place she so enjoys. Feelings of boredom and helplessness feed her.. She sighs and notices her cat has awakened by her sudden movement. She stretches her paws touching her mistress’ pen. Watching it roll off the table both the cat and she just stare a moment, both too comfortable in their relaxed positions.

She chuckles at the silliness of this moment and strokes the soft, long fur of her friend; leaning to pick up her pen, she meets a flash…a fleeting thought that guides her pen back to her notebook.

“The old woman hugged her thin wool coat around her and stopped at the red light. She looked to her right and saw a little girl with blonde curly locks framing her chubby face. The little girl looked at her and smiled. Her sparkling blue eyes smiled even more. The woman was surprised since most people gave her dirty looks or pitying glances. This little girl did not seem to see her the way adults did.

The light turned green and people stepped off the sidewalk to cross and the little girl jumps onto the street squealing with delight, “We are going to see Nana! Hurry, Mummy!” She pulls on her mother’s hand with purpose.

People brush by the old woman with privileged impatience; she cannot seem to find the energy to move her legs. She stares at the little girl and her words linger bringing her back to a place she has not visited in a long time

one single tear
giggles and bubblegum
drop on her cheek”

Daily Moments – Writing process – Haibun March 5, 2017

Daily Moments Feb 27/17 – Monsters in her closet – haibun

Having had a frightful night last night, filled with terror in her dreams, tonight she decided she would add an insurance. She told herself, “Well, since Mother is not here to shoo away the monsters out of my closet, I have no choice, now do I?” And she brought her down filled duvet and set it on her comfy couch. “No way will those evil spirits roam in the living room!”

shadows
hovering
preying
searching for shelter
in her dreams

Daily moments – tower of Babel – haiku – Feb 26 2017

How would the world be different if we all spoke the same language? Would we listen to each other? Is language really an issue? Or is the apathy of too many people in the Western world that is perpetuated by the illusion of being too far removed geographically? We don’t even understand each other on this side of the globe? Heck, in North America we are strangers to each other if we have not traveled a little and even travelling only gives you a hint of what is going on in different states or provinces in North America.

Visiting Toronto, New York City or San Francisco for instance, is not the same as living there. People give their perception on life in these mega cities. Some even argue with me about what life is like in Toronto. [I am chuckling at that because I lived there for thirteen years. Heck! What do I know, right?] That said, even while living in Ontario, I was surprised to hear what people “thought” they knew about Québec.

I wonder what children are learning in history classes across the country. My manager told me the other day that a friend of his in Nova Scotia said, John Cabot discovered Canada…really? Um, I thought he discovered Newfoundland and Samuel Champlain discovered Québec. I always learned in history that Canada was discovered by Jacques Cartier, and he gave it the Huron-Iroquois name, “kanata” which means settlement.

I think this blogger explains misinformation so much better than me:

“Politics is bigger than us all, we can do nothing about it, it is a filthy game of interests and calculations. But life is ours, stories are ours, it is within our reach to empower others, it is within our reach to inform others about a reality of a whole country torn by war but still doing the impossible to celebrate life. It is within our reach to bridge the gaps between each other and get over political, social, religious and ethnic differences just for the sake of the one and only, for the sake of Syria.

People form their opinions and absorbs stereotypes based on what they receive on media; we have no right to complain about how that media works unless we offer an alternative.” Source: http://jamilaeyes.com/

So I suppose I have answered my question about language not being the real issue. The news reported by mainstream media in US and Canada is too often questionable. [I am only mentioning North American because this is where I live.] Yet, in this age of technology, there is no reason not to be curious enough and see what is being said in other parts of the world by people who are living and breathing their own realities and not just take for granted that we, foreigners, reporting in other countries may not have all the information. Sometimes we just don’t ask the right questions or is it that we choose which questions to ask to get answers we want to believe?”

nature’s jest
clear waters always flow
in babbling brooks

Even after reading a few articles on the same subject to see if I can sift through what is truth and what is not, I still know little. But, I refuse to believe mainstream media at face value anymore…just tired of it. Thankfully, blogging has gotten me closer to the other side of the globe and we also share the love of poetry and storytelling.

How I choose to learn more now is by listening to people telling their stories in their own words.

Daily moments – tower of Babel – haiku – Feb 26 2017

This was written for Linda G. Hill on her Friday reminder for SoCS.

Mother Nature teases (haibun)

*©Clr’17 View from rooftop of Mount Royal*

She remembers sitting on the rooftop, admiring sunsets, late spring to autumn. As the temperature rises this week in our last week of February, Mother nature seems to be teasing les Québecois. She doesn’t put it passed a few restaurateurs who may set some chairs on their terraces this weekend so patrons can sip their café au lait or pint of beer inhaling the fresh air.

spring pokes its head
showers clear winter’s debris
snowbanks shrivel

Daily Moments – Mother Nature teases – February 24, 2017

Dystopian nightmare (troibun) Daily Moments February 11 2017

In 2009 she moved to Montréal and the French translation of The Road by Cormac McCarthy(2006) had just come out. Her manager told her about the book, so she decided to read the original novel in English. It stunned her how her manager kept saying how many people enjoyed this book, so she pursued. Each chapter was still dark and depressing and by the time she finished the book all she could think was, “That was a waste of my time. I can think of many things to do to feel depressed that takes less energy.”

Now she is reading 1984, George Orwell (1949). She never read it in school or college like many of her colleagues but perhaps the timing is right. She started reading it in December but had to stop for awhile since it was so disturbing. It reminded her a bit of The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, another novel that took months to complete…so depressing but well written.

If one looks at the news, reads articles on the internet and the election results of her neighbours in the South, it all seems to come together in a very very bad way.

Troiku

The Road
nineteen-eighty-four
the spirit dies

The road
disturbing nightmare
abuse of power

nineteen-eighty-four
Trumped up lies
making history

the spirit dies
stripped of free thinking
in a shadow world

Daily Moments – February 11 2017 – Dystopian Nightmare

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