intimate dreams (haibun)

No matter how much I feel I am fine alone, loving my independence, embracing my solitude so I can think, meditate and write at my heart’s content…listening to this song right now makes my heart flip flops, longing for that connection…

(senryu)

dreaming, you – me
locked in reckless abandon
our sinful desires

(tanka)

gravity kicks in
before the rise of dawn
drags me to reality
reach out to caress you
fingers stroke just mangled sheets

Inspired by this song:

Sara Bareilles Gravity

Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do
I’ll still feel you here ’til the moment I’m gone.

You hold me without touch.
You keep me without chains.
I never wanted anything so much
Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.

[CHORUS:]
Set me free,
Leave me be.
I don’t wanna fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I’m supposed to be.
But you’re on to me and all over me.

Oh, you loved me ’cause I’m fragile
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while
And all my fragile strength is gone.

[CHORUS]

I live here on my knees
As I try to make you see
That you’re everything I think I need here on the ground.

But you’re neither friend nor foe
Though I can’t seem to let you go.
The one thing that I still know is that you’re keeping me down.

You’re keeping me down, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
You’re on to me, on to me, and all over…

Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.

December rain (haibun – daily moments)

If it weren’t for seeing parking lots packed at shopping malls, people carrying shopping bags along with their briefcase on their way home, you would never think it was two days before Christmas. The Christmas cheer is floating in the air despite the rain and lack of white powder on the ground. It just does not feel right!

December rains
colours nature grey
chasing snow angels

captive audience (haubun captive audience (haibun – daily moments)

She entered the Métro station and was bombarded by a mob of holiday shoppers marching towards her. It was obvious these were not regular travelers fortunately, as their their stride was casual and relaxed, flexible to sidestep and allow her to pass. The last Sunday before Christmas and this was another reason she wished dhe did not have to work today.

Panhandlers and homeless persons may have been relieved having a more captive audience, not immune to their plight as were many regular daily commuters.

buyer’s remorse,
consumed with Christmas lists
clink in a tin cup

fairy dust (haibun- daily moments)

The day started with a surprise visit.. I had planned to take a bus to pick up a parcel it and get some items at the grocery store next door. My son arrived minutes after I had showered, so, I quickly braided my wet hair and rushed out. He mentioned he has to guard frenzied drivers to avoid an accident. I couldn’t agree more with his need to err on caution since I was careful crossing the street c as well; there seemed too many hurried drivers running red lights and cutting other cars off.

I took advantage of his arms and his car to get heavier items at the store. We stopped for a submarine on our way home. As I was waiting for our order to ring up, my son was pointing to the homemade cookies on the counter. For a moment I felt like I was right back 30 years ago when he was seven and silently eyeing something like a hot wheel or candy bar. A gush of warmth swept over me.

As we stepped out of the restaurant there was blowing snow…looked like millions of tiny white beads spreading on the dark pavement. Temperatures had dropped today and I was hopeful the ground would stay white just a while longer.

North winds quicken
snow clouds dim late afternoons
chilling brittle bones
fairy dust on dark pavements
brightens this early dusk

March sun (haibun)

IDYLLIC SPRING

Grassy steps led to an over-grown garden. Looking down Janice wondered who had built the walls and indeed, when those stony steps had last been used. The garden full of wild flowers was weed-choked but the sun filtered down invitingly. She began to descend, half-way down the stairs she stopped surprised.

Piercing the silence, a blood-curdling howl. Robin red-breast rises, screeching, into the sky.

She looked down the remaining stairs and saw a large brindled cat stride out from the undergrowth. Tail swishing she realized the hunter had lost his prey.

idyllic spring
among the wildflowers
the hunt continues © G.s.k. ‘14

We are inspired by Georgia’s idyllic spring in this beautiful haibun. One feels the youth of spring and the adventures of nature in her writing. This is my attempt to write in this spirit.

*************************

That spring, long ago, they piled in one car to have lunch at la Cabane à sucre in Saint Grégoire ; five colleagues who formed close ties over the years. They had shared stories of their families, wept for their children and bragged about their successes. The drive was only ten minutes from the Clinique communautaire… enough time to laugh like teenagers with their banters. Enjoying this meal, they all remembered eating the first time in their grandmother’s kitchen, having savoured the smoked ham, rich thick omelettes and home baked beans, sprinkled with maple syrup. Les grandpères for dessert was their choice without any hesitation.

It was difficult to leave but work awaited and they stepped out onto the sparkling snow, breathing the cool fresh air among the maple trees spilling sap in tin pails. Every spring was the same sensation she felt of a new life and especially a renaissance of the heart. The sun warmed her face and she felt alive and free for a moment. “A pity we have to go back to work, les filles, it is a time to traipse in this glorious forest with a paramour!” Giggles echoed in the forest.

March sunrays
form diamonds on the snow
melt my heart

Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

perception (haibun)

Today, I woke up looking out the window at the rain; 9 C on December 17th is so rare. I thought to myself, “Why wait for New Year’s resolutions?” and thought of a haiku at that moment. Why not write a haiku (or more) a day when the thought pops up in my mind? Sure I write sometimes three or four posts a day with prompts…but why not go back to basics? The reason I started all of my blogs…to journal thoughts of the day and now that I enjoy haiku so much, why not put that moment in a haiku every day?

wpid-2014-06-12-13.16.59.png.png — © clr 2014

wakes up to the rain
looks out at that sky of gloom
crawls back into bed

I have to admit that the rain looked bleak from the inside, but once I walked to work, dressed in my hooded raincoat, I felt pretty darn good. Isn’t it amazing how life offers you wonderful opportunities to take another look?

two sides of a coin
perception
makes or breaks

looks out the window
lamenting skies
one-sided view

raindrops
sparkles of joy
nature’s gems

blessed horizon (haibun)

On the rooftop, she sits gazing at the horizon. The wind from Mont Royale blows long dark strands defying any rules of fashion. She brushes her hair off her face to take in the show…curtains draped back to see the whole view.

sun slips
into the horizon
fills me with grace

a silent wash of tears (haibun)

It was my first retreat. I was sharing a room with a long time devotee I had never met. I was not even worried but what did unnerve me, was how would I react when this spiritual Mother, this world renowned guru would arrive? Would I feel something special within? Would there be a sign from the universe? I was going out of curiosity that summer of 2014 as I had been seeking something to help me grow spiritually. I was open to learn.

The first day I arrived I waited with my token, in a long line, to be embraced by this amazing woman. I reached the stage and sat down waiting to be summoned to move forward. I could feel my body shake out of anticipation or nervousness.
I wasn’t sure which.

My mind went back to when I had to face the bishop as a child at my Confirmation. I was so nervous I had to pee so bad! Not unusual since I was confirmed at five years old. Young? Yes, but I was tall and my mother wanted to spare the embarrassment of towering over my peers, so the priest gave his permission. I took extra Catechism lessons and memorized The Apostles’ Creed and I would be led to that man with the tall pointed hat! I did not appreciate the slap on the cheek (The teacher forgotten to tell me about that part)

Minutes later, I was standing in front of the beloved Mother and I lowered my body to be embraced. Her warm hug was like that of my grandmother’s, as if we knew each other forever and yet we were strangers…or had we once met in another lifetime?

Three days of similar rituals, meditations, warm compassionate talks and beautiful stories, singing…so much singing and the tap tap of the Tabla drums filled the room. On Devi Bhava, after Amma had completed all her hugs, her blessings and it was time to leave…she stood up on the stage, looking at all her devotees for one last long endearing moment.

The vast room filled with thousands of people fell silent…mere echoes of a far away cough, a tiny baby gurgling and Amma’s eyes on all of her devotees; was it possible to feel this pure love wash over each and everyone in that hall?

crowd falls silent
Holy Mother’s reverent gaze
beat of a heart,
echoes in the chamber of a chest
tears roll softly down a cheek

le temps des fêtes (haibun)

The week before Christmas was a busy time in la famille Lafleuré. Baking of tourtières with veal and moose, maple syrup doughnuts, apple pies, sugar and pecan pies. Pheasants were killed and cleaned for Christmas dinner. Grandmère Lafleur was busy making toffee candy for the children Christmas Eve when they would sit around the decorated tree telling stories of Noël long ago.

Children were excited and cleaning their rooms including under the bed since they were told le Père Noël did a survey in all childrens’ bedrooms to ensure they did all their chores.

Papa Lafleur had finished cleaning the fireplace and Christmas Eve afternoon, he went up on the roof of the house while the children were skating on the pond. They loved watching their father clean the chimney singing old ballads from long ago. Before coming down, he tied a long red velvet ribbon around the chimney. Tonight was the night Santa would visit from the north Pole.

C’est le temps des fêtes
les enfants crient de joie
l’arrivé du Père Noël

©Tournesol ’15

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

melancholy (haibun)

This is a time of year a virus peaks its ugly head around mid-November. It spreads a virus to those most vulnerable. You may not “catch” it at the same time; you may not catch it every year and yet, there does not seem to be guaranteed antibiotic to cure its infective powers.

September days start waning as the sun sets sooner; October days rob you of nature’s dinner’s sweetest and most potent “digestif”. November drops its veil of hoary matter and thickens day after day, week after week hiding nature’s Monet, slowly slipping into Picasso’s Blue period. Nights are longer than days and symptoms of this virus multiply

Humans are deprived of nature’s nutrient feeding brains with hope and cheer. Life, death, separation and loss blend. Waiting, as it stings open wounds and those who’ve barely healed are reminded of life’s demises.

Children as well as adults struggle through these muddy paths sucked into the windstorm of grief and loss adjusting to season’s changes in the depths of their heart and soul.

Staring out her window, faithful cat by her side, cloves comes to mind. That dark bud stares at her, hard and bitter scents bleed into her soul, remembering Grandmaman in the kitchen adding spices to the turkey dressing. A portion of sage, pepper, salt and savory, are measured in the palm of her hand. She smiles when asked the portions as she adds just a pinch of cloves. Only she had the antidote that lifts the greyness of the soul and makes the heart beat anew.

Mother’s spice of life
unopened flower buds
cloves of promise

The prompt at Linda Hill’s Friday reminder for Stream of Conciousness Saturday is “clo”

Sara Bareilles Gravity

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