Poetry ~ Waka
On her cool flat stones she sits in quiet contemplation. Tears run down her cheeks as she empties her heart feeling so alone until…
lone muse
spills self in hurried waters,
rapids call her name
by the riverside
all qualms are shared
current flows
pooling every misery
liberating souls
cleansing my feet
launching a new dawn
the river flows
© Tournesol ’15
Shade of the old tree
lovers stroll midsummer day
thirsty lips quench
…rapids muffle gentle moans
…nature’s river dance
© Tournesol ’15
![IMG_0889[1]](https://live.staticflickr.com/8788/17525973624_51d837ee4d_n.jpg)
It was a hot muggy day and she dreaded going to work. She shuffled across the street with her sunglasses protecting her sensitive blue eyes from the hot sun at high noon. Suddenly she got a whiff of those amazing lilacs on the side of the road. She had to pause briefly to take in that moment. Such a mundane experience lifted her spirits and added a bit of a lilt in her step on her way to the Métro.
Under the trees
pink posers
fragrant
© Tournesol ’15
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
bows solemnly
honouring life that was,
enters twilight
© Tournesol ’15
© 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
Glorious sunshine
captivates to distraction
stumbles on sidewalk
stumbles on sidewalk
sunshine infuses content
despite bitter winds
© Tournesol ’15
autumn wind blows
worm chomps on fallen apple
early bird smiles
(c)Tournesol
This was inspired by a Choka I wrote previously, here, when contemplating on the wren.
The woman would sit on the cold concrete during her fifteen minute break. She was wrapped in woolen coat, toque and scarf, shielded by cement pillars. That cold winter, ten years ago, sat in mourning contemplation by a bed of frozen dirt, was once a garden. Twelve months went by as she sat day by day, accompanied by her faithful wren.
bereft, she sits
wren pecks on frozen soil,
a sacred visit
© Tournesol ’15
Tournesol dans un Jardin 