Category: Haiku

montgolfière (haibun)

Photo: Hot Air Balloon Shadow by Snupi2001 @ Deviantart.com
Photo: Hot Air Balloon Shadow by Snupi2001 @ Deviantart.com

Every August there is a festival of hot air balloons in Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu, called Festival International de Montgolfières. The first hot air balloon was developed by the brothers, Michel Montgolfier and Jacques Eitienne Montgolphier from Annonay, France, in 1782.*

Our family lived near this St- Jean. Hot air balloons depend mostly on calmer winds, 10 miles an hour or less. Therefore just after dawn or late afternoons near dusk generally have less wind speed.  We would sometimes see a shadow cast over the field behind our house during dinner just before sunset.

It is always a thrill to see them up in the air when they take off as a fleet with the varied burst of colours in the sky. Last year I stopped on the highway to look at five balloons floating over Mont St-Grégoire. Such a calming effect when they float over you and you can hear only the puffs of air blowing into the fabric of the balloon.

 In this prompt of Heeding Haiku with HA at MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie, we are given two words, chestnut (autumn) and balloon (spring). What came to mind was the festival a month before autumn. August is considered early autumn.

L’ombre d’une montgolfière

plane au vent doux du mois d’août

mulot fuit le chat

© Tournesol ’14

August wind casts

shadow of a hot air balloon

mouse dodged the cat

© Tournesol ’14

 * History of le mongolfière

brush strokes (haiga)

© Clr ’14
© Clr ’14
© Clr ’14
© Clr ’14

light of setting star
brush strokes blend
on blue canvas

passionate artist
showers radiance
on blue canvas

artist cleans his brush
sky blends into twilight
lovers’ in the night

© Tournesol ’19-03-2

cold bedding (haibun)

Confused bush by unrulerly @Deviantart
Confused bush by unrulerly @Deviantart

Ten days passed since I had been to work, and since I had marched on that footpath…my shortcut to work.  Today I walked through the bush on this cold sunny day, slipping on the icy patches mourning the dormant shrubs…all I could see now, were patches of brown leaves and branches hugging the snow surface.  I did not take a photo of this new image. No, looking around at the huge change, I needed to mourn the life trampled on by heavy wet snow. Tomorrow will be another day…then, and only then, perhaps shall I photograph  this newly treacherous footpath.

sluggish bushes
disheveled on white
cold sheets

© Tournesol ’14

Haiku Horizons “cold”

dawn ascends (haibun)

Last night we experience strong winds and in the middle of the night it kept me awake. Tossing and turning, my mind was composing a poem, so I decided to write a poem which I posted entitled “Awaiting dawn”.

 
intermittent flash
signs of ill-health
power lines crash
eminent for sure
if these gusts continue
chorus of howls
like military troops
haunting yowls
beyond depths of
eternity
blow blow
blow wind blow
keep me awake
all night long
visions of buildings
crashing, floating,
hiding for cover
broken wail sounds
blow, blow
blow wind blow
you’ve not won
in destroying my home
power’s still on
I’m safe, I am warm
then why do I fidget
why can I not rest
in the dead of this night
blow blow
blow wind blow
the chorus has grown
no longer wind sound
but high giant waves
like tsunami like moan
blow blow
blow wind blow
fear not
I stand guard
awake thru the night
fear not
I stand guard
‘till the sun
shows its face gold
I shall wait for this dawn
neither tired or cold
I shall wait a bit longer
eyes open, alert
breathing slow , belaboured
suppressing a yawn.

© Clr’14

 It is interesting how strong winds seem more frightening in the night and yet in the day would it not be more dangerous?  I remember walking to bus some mornings on wind days and I felt pushed forward…and I am not a skinny person!  I hate to see young children waiting for a bus how scary that might be or crossing a busy intersection…yikes!

In any event, I wrote this poem not really thinking the wind would die down but I knew at the break of day I would not be so frightened.  At six am. I took my shower, while coffee was brewing and had not thought of the wind for I was preparing for appointments today.

Sitting down to check my email, I noticed the only sound I could hear were the cars on the boulevard in front of my apartment driving towards the bridge to get to work.  I am including two haiku to complete last night.  I think the second one is better but the first was my first thought…what do you think?

© Clr '14
© Clr ’14

new dawn
gusts sank beneath the skyline
sunshine smiles

or

dawn ascends
gusty winds expired,
forgiven cool breeze

© Tournesol ’14

dream of blossoms (haibun)

“IMAGINATION IS THE TRUE MAGIC CARPET”

~~ Norman Vincent Peale

I read this quote while visiting a new blog at Moon over Spumoni.   It spoke to me. Quotes do that to us, don’t they. You may have heard countless quotes, proverbs, prayers or poetry most of your life and then, for the second or thousandth time you read it and it actually draws you in.

Imagination is the true magic carpet…indeed!  Like the caring doctor at Cedar House Rules, read bedtime stories to the children at the orphanage,  bedtime snack feeding dreams on their magic carpet.

Can you imagine not being able to drift off to dream land when you were a child?  What if you were going through a difficult time in your life?  You are perhaps grieving the loss of dear pet and you are too young to grasp the concept of “forever”.  But you can imagine times you played with that pet, hugged him, shared your deepest secrets with him.   Perhaps it is the loss of friend or relative…be it through death or a long long absence, the  lack of his or her presence is heartfelt.  Nothing can fill the void…that darn emptiness can never be replaced BUT in time it will be healed by filling it with those memories you can imagine anytime you want and room for more amazing memories to bless your heart and your soul with joy.

Imagination is like nourishment…no medicine healing moments of despair. I see imagination synonymous to hope because it enables one to feel there is always hope.  Have you ever had a dream for a very long time? Have you ever had a dream realized to some extent it felt like déjà-vu?  Some will say, “Pinch me! I must be dreaming!”    That is how I see imagination related to hope. What would life be like without hope?  Without hope there is no faith, so little room for trust…

A hungry baby cries in the night and is nursed, however, unanswered cries in the night, a child no longer tries.

Imagination are not only the making of fairy tales but the remedy for the disheartened.

Monarchs in a garden
Monarchs in a garden

In springtime

butterflies in a garden

imagine blossoms

© Tournesol ‘14

winter symphony (haibun)

© Clr ’14

It is 22:35 and the building is quiet. Most folks are getting ready for bed for an early rise, children are sleeping and the only sound I hear is the muffled roar of snow plows. It is almost a humming sound to me. Last year I remember referring these melodies as my winter lullaby. These huge impressive machines usually run in the middle of the night when only nighthawks like me are up, night-shift workers, or mothers  nursing their baby.

To me it is a symphony of sorts for nighthawks. The scraping of the huge metal plow booms onto the snow covered pavement drumming and shaking the earth; the motor roars and hums pleasantly putting me in a mellow mood…feeling safe and comforted in the wee hours of the night.

massive metal

imposing,  yet gently

lulls my nature

© Tournesol ‘14

safe at night (haibun)

CLR 2014
CLR 2014

When I was very young before I even went to school, I remember making a space in my bed for my guardian angel.  I just believed there was someone special because my mother told me so. Those were years when it was quite turbulent at home with my father when he was inebriated.  I believe moving over in bed to keep that space available for my angel made me feel safe.

When I was six my GrandPapa died.  I have spoken many times about my maternal grandfather. I was living with him the year he was dying.  After he died, I never made room in my bed for my guardian angel for I always believed GrandPapa was always with me.  I would cram for exams at the last minute too many times and just before the test, I would ask my grandfather to help me remember the answers. All through elementary school, I would close my eyes at difficult questions and see the spot on the page in my science , history or geography book…I believed GrandPapa sent me cheat sheets because so many times I did not study enough in those earlier years.

When there was thunder and lightening, I was always very scared. GrandMaman would be so calm and look out the window at the lightening.  She would comfort me by telling me that GrandPapa was bowling up in heaven and that was the sound of the thunder.  He was playing for money, she said, which he would send her.  Perhaps she was trying to explain that her widow’s pension came from him.

I have a fan club up in heaven now, with many other relatives. But I always feel my grandfather is looking out for me and still pray or chant visualizing the face of my grandfather.

child in the night
felt a nudge and made room,
guardian angel

snow kissed cheek
wind whispers his presence
guardian angel

message from heaven
first snow covers the ground
guardian angel

© Tournesol ’14

Carpe Diem

farewell my friend (haibun)

Haibun Thinking

Haibun Thinking

LITERARY QUOTE PROMPT

“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!
How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book!”
~ Jane Austen (Pride & Prejudice)

Reading a book is like meeting a new friend. Getting acquainted with their family and friends. Once immersed into a novel, I often get lost in “their world”. Such an escapism for me is rewarding and therapeutic.   It is my brief vacation in another world allowing my mind, heart and soul to detach from realities of life. Every break, every free moment, long bus and metro rides, I get to meet up with my new friend of the week.  Waiting in a line at the grocery store or department store, I pull out my book.  I forget myself so much that I chuckle out loud or weep.

If I am on the last chapter and either on the bus or at a café,  I will put the book down and wait to savour that last chapter quietly at home. I turn each page slowly, reading even slower,  because I am saying goodbye to a friend. Putting down the book, I rewind and fast forward images and memories of my friend’s story before finally saying goodbye.

lost in letters
forming new friends
enchanted am I

savouring
precious last words
the last chapter

melancholy tides,
turning the last page
whispering farewell

(c) Tournesol ’14

Golden glow (tan renga)

mystic purple flames
arise from the spirit’s stalks
chill my autumn heart © Panchali

bringing offerings to the gods
grateful for pointing the way (Chèvrefeuille)

© Clr ’14 Golden Tournesol
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Platycodon_grandiflorus
© Clr ’15

mystic purple flames
arise from the spirit’s stalks
chill my autumn heart © Panchali

sunflower with golden glow
spreads a hint of warmth

blowing hope
through barren trees
whispers thanks in gusts

© Tournesol ‘14

Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge

I decided to add a haiku underlining American Thanksgiving.

snail munchies (haibun)

sammyblot – flickr

My childhood friend used to collect her eggshells starting in March up to May. She would crunch them into tiny pieces and put them in her flower beds to prevent snails from crawling in her garden. If they crawled too quickly (I doubt there’s a chance of that) or not cautiously, the eggshells would cut them. Ouch!! Poor little critters. Before you start feeling all sad about this, I just discovered they enjoy eating the eggshells, it is filled with calcium just perfect for their shells, like the photo above.  I wonder if my friend knew that part.

crawling gingerly
eggshells in flower beds
snail’s obstacle course

gourmet nutrient
eggshells in flower pot
snail munchies

© Tournesol ’14/11/13

Carpe Diem Little Creatures