Poetry ~ Waka
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
Thinks of her mother
leaving this world unknowingly
will she forget too?
© Tournesol ‘15/11/02
Summer come and gone
their love like footprints on sand
forget me not
© Tournesol’15/11/02
cobwebbed stairwells
children playing “dress-up”– shout!
trick or treat!
old lady adjusts her hat
well, now my little pretties!
Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie
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.
Tonight I walked home from work after eleven and just soaked up what I saw and stopped a few moments to take photos to capture those moments. I got to the Métro and wrote this troiku immediately before losing that feeling I had just a few moments ago. Of course these are ” Shasei” rather than haiku developped into a troiku.
Walking home
slippery streets mock
autumn leaves
~
walking home
beauty swells in the light
silent night
~
slippery streets mock
I walk gingerly
catch a twilight view
~
autumn leaves mock
cold and wet – yet,
colour my world
© Tournesol ’15
“Though this technique is often given Shiki’s term Shasei (sketch from life) or Shajitsu (reality), it has been in use since the beginning of poetry in the Orient. The poetic principle is “to depict the thing just as it is“…He favored the quiet simplicity of just stating what he saw without anything else happening in the haiku. He found the greatest beauty in the common sight, simply reported exactly as it was seen, and ninety-nine percent of his haiku written in his style. Many people still feel he was right.”
She thinks of times her muse would visit and literally just take over. Looking over old poems of various forms, she has no choice but to believe this must be so because of the depth and eloquence of some poetry. No, it must be some spiritual intervention, that has to be the answer.
September had thirty days of haiga and that may have forced the hand of her muse a bit. Then she dared to attempt the challenge of 31 days of poetry at OctPoWriMo and now she is feeling the crunch. Her muse may be a little passive aggressive. And she should be! Why should she expect her muse to produce “on command”? And so she waits tonight at one in the morning …
humble insights,
pen cannot scratch the surface
muse is ripe
muse is ripe
wildflower blossoms
even in autumn
© Tournesol ’15
Written for Ronovan Writes Poetry prompt 68 – Hiaku – Pen & Muse
sitting alone
echoes of laughter afar
I see darkness
sitting alone
daydream of my homerun
I smile
echoes of laughter afar
thinking of Grandpa’s riddle
I chuckle
I see darkness
eyelids getting heavy,
sitting alone
© Tournesol ’15
talking in bird language…
(haiku)
rooster
nature’s morning call
crows
hen party
heckle about this and that
cluck
Hummingbird
speed of its wings
hum
seagulls
gorging over litter
squawk
raven
boasting black beauty
caws
In this area in Quebec it is forbidden to hunt wild turkey past noon because they are more vulnerable…it is a time they are often found napping in a tree.
afternoon freedom
safe from hunters
turkeys yelp
Humans talk (communicate) in varied ways…
(senryu)
business meetings
teaching, lecturing
no talking in class
baby’s first words
talking gibberish
toddlers understand
adolescents
instant message texting
teen talk
music
lyrics soothe the heart
love songs
tête à tête
holding hands lovingly
warm caresses
sexual healing
communion of bodies
gentle moans
matters of the heart
talking softly
language of love
© Tournesol ’15
Feeling this heavy weight this morning makes it difficult to find her get up and go. She shuffles to the shower, hoping to wash off fragments of gloom and doom. Caffeine doesn’t even work. She puts on her coat and wraps her long scarf around her to brave the cool autumn air on her way to work.
grey clouds linger
trees brave autumn winds
shaking off the blues
© Tournesol ’15
Written for Monday Writes
Tournesol dans un Jardin 