Daily Moments December 1 2017 three years ago Haibun

© Clr ’14 Colombe (Mom) June 22, 1926-Dec 2, 2014

On this day three years ago I had dreamed half the night. The dream of my mother and I trying to save a dying child. Each time I woke up shocked by the dream, I would go back to sleep and dream the exact same scene…3 times until I could no long sleep. I waited until sunrise and called the nursing home to ask how my mother was. The nurse said, « Viens vite, il ne lui reste plus grand temps.»

I no longer had a car since the fall and called a taxi. It was snowing lightly and it was very cold. The sky was so grey and morbid. I talked all the way down with the taxi driver. His mother had recently passed…

She used every means to get me by her side…I will be forever thankful and she passed a little after midnight…

you poked me
three times
I was by your side
one last time …you looked at me
passing to the other side

missing you
embraced by your soothing voice
telling me each time

I love you darling –
don’t forget your Hail Mary’s

never too old
j’suis toujours ton bébé
miss you Mom…

©Tournesol’17/12/01

 

old man walking – Troiku – Daily moments November 26 2017

 

old man walking
heading to his last demise
knows not what’s ahead

old man walking
hoping for a better draw
winnings from his game

heading to his last demise
his pockets bare, he lost again
heart filled with despair

knows not what’s ahead
stepping off the curb to cross
crashing to his fate

life is filled
with obstacles to grip
do at what you may

life if filled
compassion is the game
despite miseries

with obstacles to grip
chance to live and learn
turn your life around

do at what you may
if you can get it right this time
paradise awaits

©Tournesol’17/11/26

MicroPoetry Month #26

sinners in red (Quadrille & senryu) Micro Poetry Month 25 & First Line Friday

sinners in red Quadrille & senryu Micro Poetry Month 25

Below them,
the dark streets beckoned
with crimson light
men walking in secretly-
coming out with pure delight
inked red upon their lips

the townspeople knew all too well
the going’s on in this house of sin
lust seekers who’ll be going to hell.

who are you
to judge
casting the last stone?

we are all sinners
in the eyes of the Creator,
self-righteous one!

©Tournesol’17/11/25

At Micro Poetry Monteh #25, we are asked to write a quadrille, a poem of 44 words. I have included the First Line Friday from MindLoveMiserysMenagerie which you see in italics to form my quadrille.

night reflections (troiku)

day after day
waiting
still – no sunrise

day after day
Time passes
without  me

waiting
under the weeping willow
shadows mocking

still – no sunrise
Mother Earth can’t even rescue
she’s stopped  spinning

Daily moments – Nigh reflections November 25/17

 

Daily Moments season’s cold breaths

©️Clr’17

My hands are cold
My heart is numb and silent
My eyes keep swimming

Aiming to the surface _ yet
the light’s so far away

Hunching forward
Shrinking to the fetal state
turning to my heart

tomorrow
is another day
…so they say

©️Tournesol’ 17/11/25

November 25/17 Daily Moments  cold breaths of autumn

crimson light (troiku)

Below them,
the dark streets beckoned
with crimson light.

below them
silence of city streets
screamed with loneliness

the dark streets beckoned
warmer hearts
and fuller bellies

with crimson light
feigning love and musky scents
to pay the rent

(c) Tournesol’17/11/24

First Line Friday at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

the 9th life (haibun) Daily Moments November 24/17

He lived a humble life alone…a niece or a nephew here and there brought sunshine to his life…his offspring found no time, nor care to watch the sunset by his side. Before he reached this tranquil life, he’d tested his boundaries, stretching the elastics of addictions. Too many “last calls” and rolling dice and flirting reckonings from the meanest loan sharks. Like a cat, he had at least eight lives.

After umpteenth losses, he faced illness and disability, rooming in the most modest abode…a small room among others  slightly different yet much the same;  not in any kind of bed and breakfast, yet three fixed meals a day.

rags to riches
unrequited love
to borrowed rags.

Last week, he went for a stroll. Waiting at the corner for the light to change, he steps down the curb leaning on his cane, minding his own business like he’s done all his life…

unforeseen
meeting his maker
with a BANG

smell of burnt rubber
wail of niece and nephew

maman et papa
sisters and big brothers
show the way

most unusual racetrack
with perpetual winnings

This is in honour of my uncle, after hearing the news I received today about his sudden death …my mother’s brother.

Written for Micro Poetry Month #24

Daily moments paradise beyond November 24 2017

a different kind of therapist (haibun)

Waking earlier than usual, she shuffles eyes half closed, holding her forehead to the bathroom to run her bath.  Peeking through tired eyes at her reflection and after careful evaluation sighs with relief that Man-made masks exist in all forms.

ivory liquid
brushed smoothly
on ashen face
painting taupe shadows and liner
illusions of a happy face

Arriving at her appointment, she settles comfortably and opens up to a face of compassion. Tears running down her cheeks, her therapist listens with empathy and continues her task…

scraping and cutting
polishing for good measure
podiatrist soothes

Who knew her foot doctor could be the only one who seems to “get it”? Too bad the next appointment is only in two months.


even
 the perfectly shaped leaf
dies

©Tournesol’17/11/22

Daily Moments – November 22, 2017  a different kind of therapist (haibun – haiga) – MicroPoetry Month #22

Daily Moments – sleep interrupted- November 21 2017

voices echo
words revolving
on a merry-go-round

voices echo
abysmal
clutching

words revolving
aimlessly
bent out of shape

on a merry-go-round
spinning out of control
my weary brain

©️Tournesol’17/11/21

Daily Moments – sleep interrupted- November 21 2017

MicroPoetry Month #21

 

autumn park (senryu)

sounds of the wind
abandoned park
gently rocks the swing

©Tournesol’17/11/20

Daily moments – November 20th – MicroPoetry  Month #20

Haiku Horizons: swing