pumpkin seeds (haiga)

gut Mister Pumpkins
designing Jack-O-Lanterns
crow burps a seed

mourning a healer (haiga)

If my grandmother would have been born within the Aboriginal culture, for sure she would have been a wise elder and perhaps a Shaman. But she was a humble woman living by la rivière Yamaska; a village healer in many ways being a mid-wife, a go-to person if someone was sick from newborn to elderly. She had herbal remedies and others passed down to her from her mother and an old village doctor.

To this day, I still miss her when I am sick. For some reason her hand on my forehead and her homemade chicken broth comforted me. She spent hours and days with mothers in labour, sat by a dying person’s bed many late nights and even doctors called on her for help. Most people called called her Garde Daudelin OR GrandMaman.

..
At Carpe Diem our host tells us about a Mongolian shaman named Batbayar. A beautiful story you can read more here of a Shaman and his apprentice. Our host wrote this in honour of the passing of this shaman.

..
whispering leaves
telling all wisdom of the steppes
cry of an eagle © Chèvrefeuille

To make this interesting for me, I searched where there were ealgles in Québec. In Northern and Eastern Québec there are many surprisingly, golden eagles. In the Gaspé Penninsula, residents are helping researchers with sightings as they are very proud of the eagle in their territory. (Gaspé is where Kerouac’s parents were from).

I have heard from aboriginal youths that the Northern Lights are their ancestors from the “other side”, spirits revealing they are well.

golden eagle cries
shaman’s loss mourned over
lac Natashquan

spirits announce
shaman’s safe entrance
aurora borealis

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai “Helpful”*

To read and hear more about the Golden Eagle in Québec click here.

kite on a branch (haiga)

Deviant Art Red Kite in a Tree -JBordons

red kite in flight,
snares on a tree branch
squirrel’s new friend

Carpe Diem

six day bender (haiku)

Wandering
looking for home
got lost

lost again
turning in circles
unlisted number

soul searching
chanting my mantra,
I’ve come home

© Tournesol ‘14

Most people are bi-cultural or multicultural…let’s face it. In North America we are are blended in that huge melting pot. What IS interesting is how one identifies himself. I sometimes envy French Québecois who feel so sure of their identity. My mother always presented herself as a bilingual Canadian. I guess that is the only way I can see myself too. I cherish both languages/cultures that have woven the tapestry of who I am today.

lonely soapbox,
sometimes my views get
lost in translation
*
on the fence
each side
tears me apart

© Tournesol ‘14

This last one was just having fun thinking of Kerouac’s road trip for almost a month when he wrote On the Road.

six day bender
sex, love and rock ‘n roll,
day of rest

Carpe Diem Sparkling Stars – Jack Kerouac

fallen (haiga)

Fallen leaves,
needy for fertile grounds
geese honk
~
naked tree,
defensive and forlorn
squirrel on a wire
~
loneliness
besieged by barren trees,
unwelcome guest

Sunday Scribblings 2

Three Word Wednesday

Carpe Diem Special #114, Shiba Sonome’s 4th “longing for someone”

Longing (haiku)

wistfully
stirring her cup of tea,
milk curdles
~
weeping salty tears,
pillow case no longer
carries his scent

weeping
on a pillow case,
scents lost

Carpe Diem Special # 113, Shiba Sonome’s 4th “longing for someone”

Carpe Diem “Tackle It Tuesday” #11 Humility

Carpe Diem's Tanka Splendor

Respect everybody. Bow with folded hands before all. Do not talk in a loud voice before elders and venerable persons. Look at the toes while you walk. See the Lord in all and feel that you are His servant and so the servant of all. Consider none as inferior to you.
Humility … not easy I think. As I use to say while I am reading comments and compliments is that I am just your humble host and I am proud to be your host. Together we stand in our love for haiku … I am an addict to haiku and I am just glad that I may share all I know about haiku.

Humility … a very strong ity … one we have to cherish and promote …

snowdrops
standing tall, but rooted
bow their head

I hope to publish our next episode next Tuesday, I hope…

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death and beyond (haiga)

Our Ghost Writer at Carpe Diem today is Gary Gay and our inspiration is October as the first full autumn month. I love that that photo chosen with vibrant colours is in Québec and near the Richelieu River where I raised my family.

Gary asks us to “Think outside the Box” when you use Halloween topics. It can be a good source of humour as well. Here is his example of thinking outside the box or misdirection.

My skeleton

going for a walk

The poem has a subject of death and yet Gary’s skeleton is still alive.

Here is my attempt in both languages in honour of that lovely autumn photo in Québec dans la Vallée du Richelieu

mains en prière
parlant à GrandPapa,
lui! sait m’écouter

hands clasped,
speaking to GrandPapa…
he! truly listens

Now for a the Halloween theme. Every Halloween I would dress up with my children so neighbours would NOT recognize me. Part of it was the fun of dressing up and walking around incognito and the other reason, I did not want neighbours to favour my children with extra treats. But I DID get treats as well…no one knew if I was man or women…they would talk to me in English to see if I was ME and I’d shrug my shoulders; they would try in French to see if I was the children’s father, and I would shrug again.

One year I dressed up as Count Dracula., with black dye in my short hair slicked back wearing a red lined long black cape. I had the pointy teeth and everything and traces of blood dripping from my lips in each side. As we arrived at the crescent there was a mom with very young children. One little girl looked up at me and started crying. I felt so bad but hugging her would surely have traumatized her more. I never wore scary outfits thereafter and dressed as a hobo the remaining years.

blood stained chin
black cloak blows in autumn wind,
little girl wails

soothing tea (haiku)

Tournesol dans un Jardin

I love sipping tea in porcelain tea cups. My great aunt bequeathed her collections to my father and I now have them in the same curio my Auntie Mae O’Donnell had. Although the tradition is on my Father’s side, my aunt being Irish, my mother taught me how to brew my tea as young as five. She would let me drink it in espresso cups which was just right for my tiny fingers.

My grandson loved to drink tea as well and would choose his tea cup whenever it was tea time. One day I invited my friend and her daughter who was grandson`s playdate. Well! I set up their tea cups with the tea pot brewing their tea. Ah, the cute things they do at five. I doubt he would want to even admit doing this now that he is 10.

I had a dear friend living next door…

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