Dynastie des grand-mères (haibun) (CP #534 Ancestors)

The prompt today is Ancestors at Carpe Diem and again Chèvrefeuille quotes a passage from Sand and Fom by Khalil Gibran.

{…} “Remembrance is a form of meeting”. {…}

Chèvrefeuille goes on to say that ancestors are a part of us. They are in our genes and will always be with us. They are in our mind and heart. They are part of us.

at the jumble sale
the photo of someone’s grandma,
she smiles at me

Dynastie des grand-mères

Absolute Arts

Ten years ago between Christmas and New Year’s my dad was rushed to the hospital for the last time. He had been sick for over two years. Having him phone me multiple times past midnight with belaboured breath was a common occurrence but as soon as I would drive up to his apartment forty minutes later, he would be sitting at his desk, heaving, yet, pleading that I not call 911. I had called once and they came for several minutes, saw my father’s pleading face with tears, so scared they would take him away . then they explained to me he was lucid and they had to respect his wishes.

That night Christmas week, he fell on the floor, unconscious and a neighbour called 911. It was only a few days before he was in a coma and my daughter announced she was expecting a baby. I knew…felt in my heart, she was carrying a boy. My father did January 3rd, 2004.

My daughter was living with me at the time in Toronto and she invited me to her monthly appointment to see her gynecologist. I was so excited, walking in with her to Women’s College Hospital, a ten minute walk to our respective jobs. {yes, I was lucky that she even worked downtown next to my work!}

The doctor put the monitor on her belly and we could hear a loud quick heartbeat. My whole being tingled and I wept with joy, at my grandchild’s heart beating. Later she gave me a snapshot of the ultrasound and it is the first photo in the baby album…well, after I had kept it on my fridge door for months, that is! Nanas have more brag rights than mothers and fathers.

His Tiny-Ness swimming,
in my daughter’s womb/
felt Dad beam

For those who have read earlier stories of my grandmother, know that she was a midwife and I was born in her house/bed. Lucky me! She was the same age I was when my daughter gave birth to my grandson. I was her labour coach…I felt GrandMaman’s presence so much with me during her long hours of labour.

Being with my daughter, I was filled with so many images, memories and visions of the past. It was like a book where one chapter is the present, the next chapter rewinds back to the past and the next chapter resumes to the present. It was such a powerful experience so difficult to express. For years when describing the birth of my grandson, I never had a chance to describe much before I would break down crying. It has been a few years now that I can manage to hold my own… well better.

If I were an artist I would have painted a portrait of a woman giving birth with shadows forward of another mother giving birth…I sketched it once but I am SO not an artist.

I kept shifting in time, from the birth of my daughter and son…the newness of giving birth to my son, the fear and worry; the anticipation of being induced with my daughter and wondering if I was having another son or a daughter . {No, I never wanted to know…I felt the curiosity may give me more incentive to push with more drive. The first thing I noticed alone with my baby girl, stripping off her nightie, diapers and tiny socks…examining every centimetre and thinking, “She will go through this same labour mixed with joy someday too.”

My grandmother was the same age I was when I became a grandmother; after her long illness of dementia and her death, I had not felt close to her; I missed her and somehow, I felt much closer to her since my grandson`s birth…closer than I had ever felt since her death

presence felt
she gave me a grandson/
GrandMaman.

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!

Youth Dew Estee Lauder

lips tattoo my cheeks

softness of her creamed hands,

Youth Dew idles

Submitted for: Carpe Diem Ghost Writer 20 The Scent of Poetry

Same post can be found at Blogspot – Tournesol dans un jardin

just in time (haibun) CarpeDiem #532 Movement

Khalil Gibran wrote, “We measure time according to the movement of countless suns; and they measure time by little machines in their little pockets. Now tell me how could we ever meet at the same place at the same time?”

changing tides
my restlessness has gone
time is at my side
© Chèvrefeuille

How true! We seem to always be focused on time. How fast we can get this done and that completed. When I am writing, I don’t measure my time but I do see that a whole day sometimes has passed me by on my day off. So what? I enjoyed myself; I was able to create and be inspired by my muse. And all this is free and it is not even fattening! I have earned my time to just be and if writing is one of those moments of `being`, so be it!

Years ago, I used to be a personal support worker in homecare. My favourite days were bath days and individuals would humbly allow me to help them with their personal hygiene. I would take my time…up to an hour many times. I felt privileged to be welcomed in their homes like that. I am pretty sure that today, thirty years later, this “time” is considered a rare luxury…sadly so.

I stopped wearing a watch when I had the children and was a stay at home mom for five years. I didn’t need a clock or a watch. Babies and children can easily determine their needs without a clock and so that is how life was then.

internal clocks pulse
mother nurses, cleans, comforts
infant cries
© Tournesol ‘14/08/03

I remember when I first started working as a youth counsellor at our help line, I used to feel uneasy for talking a bit longer than some of my colleagues. Finally after three years, I had this amazing clinical supervisor who had watched me, observed my style and told me it was just the way I was. That was how I was able to engage with youths before they felt comfortable to disclose. When youth asks me if they are taking up too much time and feel they should let go, I tell them, “This call ends when you are finished sharing what you need to get off your chest, and we can find some options to help you through this.”

Sometimes we may be short-staffed due to illness and colleagues may worry seeing there are other callers waiting in the queue. I don’t look at that…I refuse to for I cannot be present with a youth if I my mind is wandering about caller number 2 or 3. I can ONLY take one call at a time and be with that person in a meaningful way.

just ended a call,
sun sets below the skyline
dinnertime.
© Tournesol ‘14/08/03

Submitted for CarpeDiem # 532 Movement

Lanky sunflowers (haibun)

Well, I am so far behind, I’m breathless trying to catch up. Chèvrefeuille has started a WordPress blog called CarpeDiemHaikuKaiFamily. Well, this is already Prompt #4 Sunflower, so better late than never.

Here is Chèvrefeuille’s offering:

after the thunderstorm
the sunflowers in the backyard
have broken

My sister grew sunflowers in her country home and that was the first time I saw such huge, tall flowers towering over ME and I`m tall! One summer in 1995, I planted a variety of seeds of wild flowers late in June. That was the summer I was trying for an English Garden and we had such a nice property in the back of the house with a huge field, small stream and further a wooded area. It was heaven in the back and civilization in the front of our home.

By the end of June, no sign of growths, end of July only mere foot tall lanky, thin stems. But by September, whoa! these were giant fellas alright!! They almost touched the roof of the garden shed. It was pretty in the daytime but in the night, if I had to go out back, their shadows were a bit daunting…no creepy!

Credits: Wikipedia

round yellow face
looming shadows sway
sunflowers at night

standing tall
reaching for the sun
hover over me.

sunflowers
reap seeds for salad dressing,
cooking oil

lankiness
towering sunflowers
like a teen.

Submitted for: CarpeDiemHaikuKaiFamily #4 Sunflower

Departed soul (haibun) In memory of Bruno

© clr A true Rock Star, he will be missed

Yesterday marked one week that a friend and colleague died, Sunday morning, July 20th. I wrote a series of haiku/senryû, last week with the vivid image of Bruno when I last saw him mid May of this year. He had been battling pancreatic cancer for well over a year at that time and still accepted that I visit him and he posed for a book that was being compiled to give to another colleague who is battling breast cancer. Bruno believed in thinking positive at ALL times. He believed in the fight and never gave up, nor did he stop encouraging our friend who is still under treatment and we KNOW she will rise above this insidious disease. She is the loving and most generous person (much like Bruno) who phoned me to give me the sad news that our friend had passed. I feel so blessed to have heard from you, Leslie, you have no idea how much it meant to me.

Here is the series I wrote the day I learned of his passing…

Care Bear Hugs

I’ll miss that smile
soothing presence like balm
Care Bear hugs.
*
those innuendos
making me feel young and sexy
twinkle in your ~~{lie}~~ eye
*
they’ll all split their wings
you’ll have them laughing so hard
angels in heaven

originally posted: Care Bear Hugs

Today it is raining. It is grey and my mood is morose. I called in sick today as my body would not respond and seemed to be listening to my soul…I feel as if I am 99 today…a time to rest. In the shower I weep tears of grief and let the water wash them away. I have written in another post how I asked, “Why not take me? I am older, my family is raised, even my grandson is older than Bruno’s son. Why not take me?” The world is a mystery and the Great Spirit acts in mysterious ways. What do I know? Who am I in this vast sea of souls? But I do know that Bruno was a mind, heart, soul and body of pure essence filled with compassion and love. Anyone who has had the chance to meet him even if briefly, is blessed having been touched by an angel.

Reading Bruno’s orbituary in the Montreal Gazette, minutes ago, here at Second Cup, I am sad and yet could not help but smile when I read that his blood type was B Positive! Of course, what else could it have been? This reading along with Chèvrefeuille’s prompt on writing with the theme “A departed Soul”, has stirred up the following lines…

Departed Soul

dawn smiled
clouds made way
an angel
*
an angel
soars over sad hearts
begging for smiles
*
begging for smiles
his loud roar thundered
B positive
*
B positive
his lifetime message
gift

–

New Year’s Fun (haibun) (CarpeDiem #526 Issa (5), “New Year’s Writing”)

Credits: Japanese Fireworks

It is a Japanese custom to write with a writing brush on the second day of the year.

New Year’s Eve was always a special time for me as an older child. I used to babysit with my best friend her little brother at her house. We were allowed to stay up until way past midnight, drink cola and eat chips! Something I was never allowed at home unless there was a party. Her parents were having a New Year’s Eve “reveillons” with my parents at my home. About 30 seconds to midnight I would dial (in those days we had rotary phones!) and wait until midnight before letting go of the last digit of my home phone number, to be the FIRST to wish my mom and dad Happy New Year’s.

Another race New Year’s for our family was to be the first to ask our father (grandfather in my mother’s case) to be blessed for the new year. I always felt extra special if I got to my dad before my sister. At my grandparents, however, all seven children knelt in the living room as my grandfather blessed them all ONCE. {My grandmother, actually took over this role when my grandfather died even if she was a woman.}

If there was not too much snow, we often went out behind my grandparents’ home to ice skate on the river. Those were wonderful times when it was safe to do this as the winters were cold for many months, not like today where we get rain at Christmas.

I was saddened reading about Issa’s childrens’ passing so early in life. But I am pleased he wrote poems of laughter and joyous times in their memory.

kodomora ga kitsune no mane mo susuki kana

the children
pretend to be foxes…
pampas grass

New Year’s Eve
children playing with the fresh fallen snow –
fireworks coloring the sky

I will be writing in that youthful joyous vein.

Guy Lombardo
ringing in the New Year
got Mom first

Santa’s new skates
on the moonlit river
Dad blessed me first.

Submitted for: Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, #526, Issa,(5) “New Year’s Writing”

Sunset pause (haibun)

After enjoying a nice vegan dinner with my colleague the other night, I noticed the pink sky at the end of our street on our way back to work. I checked the time, and I had 8 minutes left before I had to get back to work on the phone lines. So I rushed up the elevator to the ninth floor, wobbled up the 20 steps that lead to the rooftop and witnessed another amazing concert of pastels shimmering in the sky.

I sat in awe silently for a moment. I knew I would not capture this perfection with my camera. And then I started playing with the settings. I tried “sunset” first, then “beauty” and lastly just natural setting…zooming now and then until I saw a plan to my right flying quickly just above the sun setting. I clicked a few times to capture this because usually planes come out fuzzy but not this time. I was quite pleased.

I had three minutes left and knew I had to run down to get to work on time and missed that last dip below the skyline…where you no longer see any sign of the sun. Then for another five to ten minutes the changing of colours, shades getting darker and more stunning. Oh, well, another time…in a few weeks time, my dinner break will coincide with a complete sunset…yes, the days will be shortening more and more…do not want to think of that yet.

(c) clr - Tournesol'14 — (c) clr – Tournesol’14

day`s end

watercolours brush the sky

with bated breath

day`s end

plane crosses shimmering sky

sun bows

daylight ends

sun dips beneath the skyline

back to work.

Summer Delights (haibun)

Since I have chosen un nom de plume for my blogspot which will hold only short form poetry, I am thinking it would be a good idea to sign my short forms here as well with Tournesol. So here goes my first summer series of thoughts when I had so much time to scribble in my notebook being, still, SANS internet. It is not so bad actually. I write, sneak peek on my phone for prompts and write offline. But I do miss reading my friends who write so beautifully and inspire me.But for summer, it is not a bad idea…it gives me time to savour summer…sit in a park and just soak up the entire moment, trees, flowers, children playing, lovers sitting side by side with glazed eyes…

summer love
painfully overrated
September blues.

summer’s breeze
forsake unrequited love
nakedness sighs

I do miss walking along an ocean beach. We are only a six-hour drive from Old Orchard, Maine and lately I have been reminiscing about times I went camping there as a teenager with my parents. I also enjoyed vacations as an adult with my husband in Prince Edward Island at Twin Shores…it felt like we owned the beach it was so secluded and quiet. I enjoyed lobsters camping and come to think of it, I have never eaten lobster in a restaurant…only camping.

ocean salt air
savouring lobster tails
melted butter dips

low tide at twilight
moon beams guide the way
skinny dipping

A few nights ago, I was surprised to hear the crickets calling since I don’t live in the country and it was near the bus terminal but I suppose they had to warn us of the hot muggy night we were having. Thank you very much, crickets, my body felt it just fine!

But it did remind me of times sitting out on our porch at our first home, the children in bed surrounded by three mountains (not huge ones, mind you, but still…)

crickets’ night concert
fanning on moonlit porch
hum the blues

Last week I enjoyed my first campfire in a long time. I usually sit out at my cousin`s backyard summers when I visit his family in Oakville. So it was a lovely treat to sit outside with my son and his two dogs, Heidi is a German Shepherd and Maya is a Golden…both are adorable. I’ve posted them in the past when pet sitting.

backyard fire
bowing to a busy day
toasting marshmallows

Now a wood`s party is something I never really experienced but I know that many teenagers do…

(c) Clr - Tournesol — (c) Clr – Tournesol ’14

wood’s bonfire
strumming a guitar
smoking weed

night extends
shrill of harmonica
honky-tonk blues

croon sleepily
red embers smother
German Shepherd snores.

What a treat to be sipping my cappucinno with WiFi and blogging.

Summer jog (haibun) CPHK # 523, Basho (5) “How Rare”

I rarely have the opportunity or privilege (I should really say) of dining with a colleague from work. Since we work on a 24 hour crisis line, our breaks are never together. Yesterday by chance, it was. I introduced my friend to my favourite vegan restaurant, The Green Panther. I have written about this place before and even taken photos with my notebook next to my plate of yummy falafel.

My friend was telling me about how she had gone out for a run the other day and came back with bites on her legs and it swelled tremendously within a short time. The next day when the swelling went down, she noticed 4 little stingers all in a row by a very hungry wasp.

After reading Chevrefeuille ‘s lovely introduction to Carpe Diem’s prompt today #523 Basho (5), ”How Rare!”, I thought of my friend’s running incident.

I also enjoyed the background of Kristjaan’s blog name. Honeysuckle was his seasonword chosen in his very first verse 25 years ago. Translated into French that would be Chevrefeuille and the rest is history.

That inspired me to choose a title for my Blogspot blog. I had originally chosen le jardin de Cher and then I thought about flowers that I love. Daisies are my favourite because they are also easy to purchase any time of year. But I have always loved sunflowers. I remember the giant sunflowers that grew next to our garden shed at our family home when my children were little. Golly!! They were ginormous! And so with jardin still as the theme of my “short form poetry” blog, I chose Tournesol dans un jardin…so Tournesol will be my nom de plume on that blog. Merci, Kristjaan, for the inspiration!

{Basho was host of a renga party at the home of Nagayama Shigeyuki, a military man of the Shonai Clan. This was the greeting verse and it was used as ‘hokku’ for the renga. He had visited Mount Hagura for seven days and was glad that he could finally eat fresh vegetables. It was published in his ‘Narrow Road to the Deep North’, his most well known haibun. © Chevrefeuille}

mezurashi ya yama wo ide ha no natsu nasubi

how rare!
on leaving the mountain
the first eggplant

and Chevrefeuille’s offering:

the sweet perfume
of the Honeysuckle
makes me drowsy

Now for my humble haiku with the image of my friend in mind ~~travelling~~ running.

Summer Jog

cool spray mist

dreamlike beachy feel

city park

smell of fresh-cut grass

running through parc la Fontaine

a wasp stings

Submitted for: Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, # 523 Basho (5) “How Rare”

Moon Beams (haibun) CP #517 Shiki(3) “reeds tremble”

July 11^th midnight we left Montreal via bus towards Toronto. This would be a 6 hour trip or shorter depending on traffic and mostly summer construction on Highway 401, the most boring highway that I know. That is why I take a bus or train when travelling alone, for by car, the risk of falling asleep at the wheel hypnotized by the same white line on black asphalt is too dangerous.

I felt like I was chasing the moon tonight, walking towards the bus terminal. I tried to take a few pictures but my camera could not do it justice. It shone so bright and it looked like a tiny spec on my camera.

On the bus I would see glimpses of the moon on the right and when I aimed my camera, the bus turned slightly and it was not to the left. I was sitting on the right side way in the front on the top deck of this double-decker Megabus. Fortunately I had two seats, so I could stretch my long legs. My tablet was on most of the ride to occupy my busy mind. I was lucky if I slept an hour and now I know that it may have been due to the “almost” full moon.

For hours the white glow teased me going from the right of my window and then to the left where I could l could not see as well, then whoosh, it would disappear. The more we approached mid morning around 3 a.m.

Moon, I saw you,

swell in size

inflamed and boisterous

daring and glorious

you shine like a star

you acquiesce afar

finally with unrest

you shine ahead

towards the West

the lower you get

the larger you’ve set

into a golden lantern

it’s 3am, cannot sleep

your energy fills me

that beaming glow

as travellers follow

all through the night

you’re glowing light

keeps us alert, safe

you’ll not abandon

us until early dawn

that golden star

we’ll not see yet

as we head West

just feel the glow

from the East

as you, moon,

shall seek rest.

This was Thursday morning that I saw this “almost full moon” on my bus ride; and on Saturday the moon was at its fullest and there was a great celebration at the retreat where I was, called The Guru Purnima. We waited with anticipation for the celebration until the wee hours of the night (5am. more precisely) In the meantime, I went out for a walk and took a few photos of the full moon and my mind wandered…

(haiku)

hot summer night

waves crash on the beach

guided by moon beams

lovers embrace

hide behind bushes

bright moon glow

Although this prompt is to write about the full moon in the Fall or Winter, I had these notes from my trip I felt fit so well with the mood of the full moon. You can see more explanations, Chèvrefeuille so graciously and eloquently gives at Carpe Diem #517 Shiki (3), “reeds tremble”

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Departed Soul

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: