sound of waves roll
lovers point to shooting stars
lying on the beach
© Tournesol ’15
Category: Haiku
Festival’s hysteria (haiku)
their first kiss
caught in festival’s hype
fantasy’s web
© Tournesol’15
Mystery junkie (haibun)
Imagine your own private film on a bus, Métro, jet plane, train or ferry boat.
She used to be addicted to reading mostly mystery thrillers, to the point of binging on two to three a week on average…so yes, sometimes there were more. It was the one thing she could do to shut off her mind and slip away into another’s person’s world. I was sitting in my private cinema viewing my personal film.
This craving subsided eventually three years ago when she rediscovered writing and blogging.
riveting tales
sinks into a comfy couch
mystery binge
© Tournesol ’15
Red carpet festival (haibun – haiga)
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
Hunter’s Moon (troiku)
clucking from the old barn
wolf howls at Hunter’s moon
hens fall silent
clucking from the old barn
winner takes all
a cocky tom struts
wolf howls at Hunter’s moon
hush of the forest
rustling leaves taunt
hens fall silent
butcher does a head count,
Thanksgiving
© Tournesol ’15
Plop interuptus (haiku)
Our host at Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie has asked us to rewrite this famous haiku by the master, Matsuo Basho
furu ike ya / kawazu tobi komu / mizu no oto
old pond
a frog jumps into
the sound of water
© Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)
A description of the surroundings when Basho experienced this moment, by the old pond were Japanese yellow roses (yamabuki) growing around the pond. Here is my rewrite.
scent of roses
by the old pond
frog plops
© Tournesol ’15
©
Sensual Feeling (Cascade – haibun – Troiku)
music feeds the soul and moves the body
instigating spells on her existence
rhythm and blues sink into her essence
that’s when she got a taste of true freedom
searching in all the wrong places for release
it’s always been there, free for the taking
cannot be purchased in stores or on-line
music feeds the soul and moves the body
she was in limbo for too many years
fighting urges to act impulsively
until she explored deep into her soul
instigating spells on her existence
she found herself one lonely afternoon
taking out her old turntable she played
Stevie Wonder and Smokey Robinson
rhythm and blues sink into her essence
it felt like being possessed by these tunes
her body moved mindlessly and freely
swayed to Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing
that’s when she got a taste of true freedom
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A Cascade reminds me a bit of a Troiku, so I also added the sense of “freedom” one gets from dancing to being midst nature and all its beauty with a Troiku.
(Haibun – troiku)
Nature offers such freedom that dance does liberating the soul, reacquainting with one’s inner child and admiring as if seeing for the first time. Before such liberation, one walks around with jaded lenses. What a joy to “see” again the vibrant colours and experiences of each season.
nature’s charm
grace of a butterfly
golden blossoms sigh
nature’s charm
seduced the lonely woman
long last – awakened
grace of a butterfly
tickled the child within
made her gasp
golden blossoms sigh
daisies coo – Pick Me, Pick Me
tranquil bliss
© Tournesol ’15
OctPoWriMo #17
“Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free.” ― Rumi
Home of Kali, Krishna, Amma (haiga – haiku)
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
when all the guests leave (Troiku)
boisterous energy
guests finally take their leave
silence is deafening
boisterous energy
contagious laughter
warms her heart
guests finally take their leave
savours cup of camomile
trace of loneliness
silence is deafening
conversations in her mind
mute the quiet
© Tournesol ’15
Family Thanksgiving (haibun)
She loves Thanksgiving. It is a time for her adult children and their partners, her grandsons and even the children’s father to come together. She prepares food for days; sets up the guest room for the boys to play and have fun while the adults eat much slower as they talk of this and that that are of no interest to young boys.
It is better than Christmas because there is no pressure of gift giving and commercialization and the roads are still clean of any snow or ice. It is simply a wonderful meal with many the season’s harvest, pumpkin, squash, yams, cabbage and apples including wine from les Vignoble du Marathonien in Havelock in the Eastern Townships. They are all thankful for this nice long weekend break in the middle of autumn, time to drive through hilly roads admiring the mountains with splashes of red, yellow and amber.
She is the cook and hostess serving one and all. Adults joking and enjoying each other`s company, but the children know who the real life of the party is…
lifting their glasses,
voices rise with laughter
winks at her grandsons
© Tournesol ’15
Carpe Diem Special Tom D’Evelyn’s essay BASHO
Tournesol dans un Jardin 
