evening train (Troiku)

Here are three haiku composed by Stevenson all three are about trains and we are to write a haiku trying to stay in the same mood of this sparkling star our host has chosen.

the train picks up speed,
in a paper coffee cup
concentric waves

the river always
out there in the dark
late train home

coming home
on the train
… the backyards

(c) John Stevenson

I’m not sure I stayed in the mood but I tried to also capture moments living by train tracks. I grew up by the train tracks in Farnham, Québec and the first few years I was married we lived just below the main train station with at least 10 tracks. Needless to say we would hear trains passing through, shunting and changing tracks most nights and we could actually feel the vibrations when trains sped by. I chose to write a Troiku and tell a brief story at the same time. The Troiku was created by our host, Chévrefeuille. To see more about this form click here

Farnham, Québec Railway Station – Wikipedia

cooking supper
kitchen window shakes
evening train

cooking supper
called children to the table
train whistles

kitchen window shakes
pot of stew boils over
train screeches

evening train
children squeal with joy
Daddy’s home!

Carpe Diem Sparkling Stars

Charlie the fisher-cub (choka)

Since this blog is mostly devoted to Japanese forms of poetry, I decided to add this Choka here following a 3-Word Wednesday prompt. The 3 words are: devious – frown – venomous

(choka)

Mama frowned at him
worried for her baby cub

Charlie insisted
I’ll be okay, Mama Bear

he went to the lake
he’d have to be devious

to outsmart those fish
but she didn’t know his friend

Pooh Bear was his pal
brought his bucket of minnows

they caught many fish
Mama would be proud of him!

then he heard a sound
a rattle snake snuck near him

Pooh jumped up and down
excited and petrified

not grasping he’d squished
that venomous rattle snake

Hurray, Hurray! Pooh!!
Mama’ll be ever grateful

you’re a shoe in now
come on let’s break the good news
off they marched with the day’s catch

a prayer (Troiku)

poppies
say a prayer
in remembrance

poppies
put them all to sleep
but the Tin Man

say a prayer
soldiers now in heaven
blessings

in remembrance
poppies on all lapels
bugles sound

Carpe diem Poppies

The tulip garden (haibun)

When I was a young child we lived in a flat next door to the Franks family. Mr. and Mrs. Franks would work from May to October tirelessly in their garden. I had never seen such a garden that took their entire backyard. There was a small patio and the rest was all flowers. But not just any kind of flowers…tulips of so many colours. Mr. Franks would smile at me when I would dawdle by the fence. Well, hello, Mr. Franks, I would think to myself, I sure would love to have one of those yellow, white or red soft as silk tulips there. But he never seemed to read my mind and it was rude to ask, so I would walk up and down the dirt driveway very very slowly pretending I was searching for pebbles. The siren would blare at noon and still I would wait. Of course my mother would have to come out to call me in for lunch by now and she would see me by the fence; and as soon as my beautiful mother walked down the steps, Mr. Franks would lift his head and have the nicest smile. Actually I think his face lit up when he saw my mother. She would smile back and do what she did so often with her eyelashes (I tried for years to bat my lashes as quickly as she did but never succeeded!) Mr. Franks would prepare a bunch of tulips and hand them over the fence to my mother. Now it wasn’t Mr. Franks beaming but yours truly with a huge smile on my chubby face.

long slender stems,
chubby face peeks in wonder
red and white tulips

red and white tulips
plead to be shown
in a crystal vase

Carpe Diem Tulips

Tranquility (haibun)

Jonathan sat on the curb and waited for someone to give him enough change to meet his quota so he could finally reach nirvana. The night had been so slow since the snowstorm had started up and “pedestrians were just rushing to get home in their nice dry, cozy homes” he snickered to himself with a bitterness that was not like him.

Nightfall came slowly and the only customers he got were the odd city maintenance men taking a break at MacDonald’s for a hot coffee after plowing the streets of Montreal most of the night. He was shaking and knew he would not be able to tough the night here, so he dragged his shaky twig of a body to an air vent near the Métro Berri…just right to warm up enough and not die of hyperthermia.

Just as the sun was rising over the grey, damp and cold city, he woke up and walked over to rue St-Pierre to stand in line until le Centre du Petit Voyageur, a methadone clinic would open at nine o’clock,

killing a pain
an opiate buzz offers
tranquility

Five Sentence Fiction Open

Today’s Quote

Wise words and stunning photo d”un tournesol:)

echoes of her son (troiku)

pins a poppy
looking in the mirror
echo of her son

pins a poppy
children dancing in the street
wonder why the tears

looking in the mirror
ghosts from battlefields
tears on her cheeks

echo of her son
whispering soothingly
I’m okay.

echo of her son
tear not for me
I’m okay

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai “Poppies”

Our host shows us how to write a Troiku (a new form of Haiku) here

pleasure tokens (haibun)

**“But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, it’s bloom is shed; Or, like the snow-fall in the river, A moment white, then melts forever.” Robert Burns** …………Photo credits: Chris at The Muscleheaded Blog

I read this quote at The Muscleheaded Blog. A lovely quote by none other than Robert Burns. What a nice segeway into Valentine’s Day, non? Must one be in love or in a relationship at this time to be reminded of past loves, paramours and blissful pleasures of the past? I don’t think so. And so I decided to write a Troiku about those pleasure moments that are sometimes short-lived. Now look deeply into that photo as you read into his thoughts:

adream — © Chris at Muscleheaded Blog – Letters and Dreams

poppies spread
pleasure tokens prised
I shan’t forget

poppies spread
imprints a mark of love
and then it scars

pleasure tokens prised
precious moments revisits
blushing every time

I shan’t forget
tomorrows shall be laced,
those yesterdays

Quote & Photo credits: Chris at The Muscleheaded Blog

Troiku a Haiku form created by Chévrefeuille at Carpe Diem

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Poppies

When Georgia mentioned this was the theme at CP yesterday, I read the prompt, thought about writing another haiku (which I still may) but liked the theme of forgotten love rather than war in this troiku as well.

searching for clarity (haibun)

https://penntonic.wordpress.com/2015/02/10/creative-expressions-9-black-and-white/#comment-1974 — © Pen ‘n Tonice Creative Expressions – School Chums

Géraldine rocked in her oak chair looking at the window. Clouds were hiding mountain peaks of Mont Tremblant. She sighed glancing at the photograph on her lap. Papa was in the other room snoring loudly. She found comfort in this sound. It meant she had peace and quiet for a few hours before he would awaken in his unpredictable rages. It spiralled if he’d taken a few swigs of his homemade Caribou. He seemed to take to it more and more these days. He’d heat it over the woodstove.

La maudite poele à bois! He still had not purchased an electric stove. What fool still cooks on such appliances? Bien moi, c’est qui! Her sisters ran off as soon as they could to la grande ville de St-Jérome for Estelle and Marie-Claude met a ski instructor and moved to Montréal. They left her alone to care for Papa. They’d each promised on Maman’s deathbed to take care Papa but only Géraldine kept her promise. “C’est ben trop tard pour moi, à c’heure.” She gave up hoping or caring. She volunteered at Auberge Alys Robi, an old folk’s home and knew that was probably her calling. The staff invited her often to come work for them.

She sighed heavily, at least she had a place to go when Papa was no longer here.

Her rocking chair creaked as she searched for those mountain peaks still hidden in their fog.

Who am I?
looking at this image,
I get lost.

248 words

Written for Pen ‘n tonic Creative Expressions

palette of colours (haibun)

Sunset over the Harbour Copyright : Boyan Dimitrov

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Sunsest over the Habour

I spend a lot of time in the spring and summer sitting on a rock or leaning on a tree in a small park by the St Lawrence River across from Montreal. I can see glimpses of the Old Port of Montreal; I usually sit near a few fishermen…it is always more peaceful there.

I see the Champlain Bridge to my left (west side) and the Jacques Cartier Bridge to my right (east). Ducks following the current. And then you see it; the sun starts its magnificent performance like an artist with his paint brush. One huge canvas and the artist takes out his palette of colour, dipping in mauves, then pink and gradually the blues share space with the orange and yellows blending in their special shades of ochre.