Poetry ~ Waka
when I close my eyes,
brings me back in time
her voice soothes me
Snippets of her presence slip into dreams when least expected. Sometimes her shadow appears in the most unlikely moments, and yet I know it is she…
scent of Givenchy
taking in her playful laugh
visits in my dreams
parfum de Givenchy
enveloppé par son rire taquin
rendez-vous dans mes rêves
© Tournesol ’15/12/02
Have you ever noticed when you are driving in a town or city and listening to music in the car, people walking by seem to be walking to the beat? Sometimes the music is fast paced and you can’t help but notice the hips sway, the arms doing their one-two,one-two movement. Perhaps you have changed channel a few times to see who moves best or the most to the rhythm. Maybe you are with a friend and he or she points some people out…heck, even dogs are walking to the beat!
Then you may be strolling through a park with your ear-buds, listening to your tunes and you cannot help but move to the movement in time with the music floating in your ears. If it is upbeat, and you are walking on a city sidewalk, that could actually be a risk to the safety to you and others. Better tone the music down to something more mellow and mosey along ready to stop, walk around or step off the sidewalk at times. Yes, yes, you have met those friends who walk three and four in a row refusing to break their group of four.
Even if you do not have music to carry you when you go for a walk, you can certainly hear something that will have a beat that can carry you at a certain tempo. The beeping at the red light for visually impaired to cross has a nice honk to it and even when it stops, it still echoes for a few blocks as you walk to that beat. The rattle of a three wheeler down the street, the repetitive clang of a loose hub cap or the click click of those nice pumps across the street. I prefer the steady thump of my favourite boots when I’m in a good mood.
The best of all of course, is walking either just after dawn or before dusk, the conference of fowls who play, chatter, talk about their day, mother robin singing her bedtime stories to her nestling. It is a cacophony of chirps of various intonations and if you close your eyes you can imagine you are in the woods somewhere alone just you and nature. Your heart beats quicker at first until the tones simmer down and you watch the sun set…
silence dips
pools of magenta
hum of my breath
© Tournesol ’15
FOLI (there is no movement without rhythm)
original version by Thomas Roebers and Floris Leeuwenberg
It’s not even three in the afternoon and already the day is ready to close right before my eyes. Sadly, I watch the clouds get darker from my window. Even the cars passing by on the boulevard are louder. I hear a humming that was not there in the summer. I just realized this a few days ago, it is the winter tires that make the traffic sound louder and soon I will be hearing the studded tires crackling along on the pavement too.
As the season gets darker, bleaker, barren and colourless perhaps the sounds seem more acute as well notwithstanding those studded tires of course.
humming lullabies
daylight slowly sinks –
sleep well
© Tournesol ’15
Inspired by these gems written by our host at CDHK “frosted grass”
early morning sunlight
frosted grass around the yurt
puffs of breath
© Chèvrefeuille
hoarfrost on the grass
melts in the early sunlight
life passes
© Chèvrefeuille
rime tipped grass
catching rays of sunshine
co-exist
© Tournesol’15-11-02
red door at night
hidden under the stairs
still caught my eye
© Tournesol ’15
late night stroll
life shines through draped windows,
are we there yet?
© Tournesol ’15
On my way home to the Métro from work, I stopped a moment to embrace the quiet of the night and the lovely autumn colours. Then I admired the doors along the way.
through my window,
day moves from dawn to dusk
how quenched am I
© Tournesol ’15
OctPoWriMo #23
She decided to walk to her voting station today rather than take a bus. The sky was such a vibrant blue, so intense and the midday sun added softness. It was chilly at 6 degrees C but dressed in layers, a good scarf, her comfy Doc Martens and sunglasses she was in her own world. Now and then she would pear over her glasses to see the real colour of the sky because through her glasses is was dark blue turquoise. That reminded her when she went to St-Marten…thoughts that rose the temperature slightly, or was it the brisk speed of her walk?
Checking the time, she knew she had time to walk the 30 minute walk and hopefully there would not be a line up at the polls giving her time to catch the bus to get to work. She had to stop a moment to take photos of the fallen leaves. She was kicking herself for not leaving earlier to walk slower to take in the beautiful autumn colours; suddenly her boots crunched on a red carpet laid out just for her. It felt like a festival of remembrance.
peeling arms,
tokens of burning passions
summer’s past
© Tournesol ’15
With only 24 hours of free rides up in the sky, I choose India. I’d get to a little fishing village in Kerala, India and stay at Amritapuri Ashram with Amma (Mata Amritanandamayi) and her devotees.
under autumn leaves
dreams of flying far away
home of Krishna
home of Krishna
fishing village by the sea
Amma sings
Amma sings
even snakes bow in honour
petals on her feet
© Tournesol ’15
Mesmerized by nature’s evening performance, she sighs and falls imto a sea pf peaceful tranquilty.
drowns in colours
gold dips beneath the skyline
wrapped in magenta
© Tournesol ’15
She felt so many regrets these days, not remorse, but regrets. Was it the weather, approaching “le mois des morts”? Perhaps. November creeps up so fast. Was it Thanksgiving in a few days that makes her wonder of what she is thankful? That would be something to concentrate a bit more on, she keeps arguing with herself today.
There are some things she would never change and the obvious would be her grown children but what else? She looks out at the darkened sky, oh so much earlier than a month ago! Going back to university to get her degree was something she would never regret. She couldn’t. She took the long road to get there, true. Nine years while raising a family and working at two to three part time jobs. But that road gave her goal more purpose. It allowed her to be who she was born to be …the labour of her birth was just a little longer.
Each day she walks to work in the fall and feels blessed to see the sunflowers still standing strong in October. How resilient those roots must be to push through the concrete on that city street!
sunflowers hail
standing strong despite a slow start
blessing late bloomers.
© Tournesol ’15
#OctPoWriMo Day 7: the road less traveled
Tournesol dans un Jardin 