Poetry ~ Waka
“Compassion is the foundation of peace.” Amma
The old woman toiled in her garden for days, her heart filled with such hope…
Planting seeds
deep enough
free from foul play
Planting seeds
filled with love
forming strong roots
Deep enough
as a love struck poet
versed with compassion
Free from foul play
only white doves
spreading world peace
(C)Tournesol’17-05-29
an angel looks up
listening to the bird sing
out the window
©Tournesol’17/05/25
The ride home last night was a bit annoying. People talked too loudly on the Métro and the bus; the scent of ingested brew permeated the bus and by the time she stood in line to get off, a young man (clueless and tipsy) staggered backwards on her left foot…yes, she was wearing sandals. However, stepping off the bus made it all go away…
pleasant breeze
enchanting scents float
lilac blossoms
pleasant breeze
cool and refreshing
washed away old scents
enchanting scents float
facing the bus station
five lilac trees
lilac blossoms
graceful and alluring
sway erotically
©Tournesol’17/05/07
Daily Moments May 17 2017 – lilac trees (troibun)
A troiku is a new form of haiku created by Chèvrefeuille, see at his blog,Carpe Diem Haiku Kai
first autumn morning
the mirror I stare into
shows my father’s face.
© Murakami Kijo
hesitantly whispers
Who are you?
©Tournesol’17/05/10
silent steps –
one more candle illuminates
the old chapel
© Ese
soft clicking of high heels
echo from nowhere
©Tournesol’147/05/10
Driving along the boulevard, she noticed trees with leaves! When did they grow so fast? The rain and warm spells must have helped. And then she passed a house with cherry blossoms…she wanted to stop and take a photo but decided to keep the image more perfect in her memory. She sighed wishing she lived closer to this house and then she saw a magnolia tree! Well, now, this was a lovely drive filled with promise. These beauties could certainly tie her over until the apple blossoms expected in the next three weeks.
blossoms
all worth the wait
nature’s promise
She remembers, as a child, in June asking her grandmother when the lilacs will be ready. Such a fragrant gift to share…
nature’s promise
yet, just a hope
scents of lilacs
mid-June treasures
picked by teacher’s pet
Fleeting memories keep her in a state of grace…calm and content, such a lovely escape.
©Tournesol’17/05/07
Daily Moments – floral reflections May 7 2017
That time of day where words are not required…silence carries a life of its own. The homeless man whose weary feet, too heavy to continue, marks a spot to rest an hour or five. The rush hour street car groans its morning tune…his lullaby.
Heros of the night who keep watch for those where pain and suffering visit at two in the morning..nursing homes, hospitals, police stations, helplines…winding down their long day seeing flashes of their comfy bed mingled with the trauma they just witnessed. No words…just thoughts, visions…turning into a steady hum.
Stray cats seek a dry abode, giving chirping critters the eye that says it all. Birds chant their morning praise, feeling lucky to be alive… singing melodies of joy, hoping to see that worm raise its lovely head…
Bakeries and coffee shops are already ready to help mankind jump-start the day.
Mornings are such a foreign thing to her. So, this is how the other half lives …some starting their day and others winding down. She, falls in between …feels as if she is always trying to catch up…
Hear the silent hum
Melodies
Brew at dawn
(c)Tournesol’17-04-21
Once there was a boy who walked along the beach with his grandfather. The boy could barely match his tall grandfather’s gait but he did not give up, jumping and skipping next to him sticking his chest out when he caught up to him.
They approached some drift wood and GrandPapa led the little one to sit by him and watch the waves forming rows and rows of petticoats. “Ah, cela me fait souvenir des bons moments quand ta mamie était toute jeune.” He sighed and appeared to be in his own world for a long time. Jonathan was only half listening to his grandfather because he often talked about times that he knew very little about.
He started fidgeting from sitting for too long and fell to his knees taking handfuls of sand and putting his ear to it as he slowly let the sand sift through his fingers. GrandPapa looked at Johnathan and started chuckling. He asked him, why he was putting the sand to his ear like that.
His grandson looked up at his grandfather with a slight air of annoyance. « Bien voyons, GrandPapa. J’écoute. Mon prof m’a dit que dans le sable il y a des milliers d’histoires…alors, j’écoute »
waves carry tomes
drifting from faraway
yesteryear’s tales
©Tournesol’17/03/24
Translations:
Ah, cela me fait souvenir des bons moments quand ta mamie était toute jeune. Ah, that brings wonderful moments to mind when your nana was very young. Bien voyons, GrandPapa, J’écoute. Mon prof m’a dit que dans le sable il y a des milliers d’histoires…alors, j’écoute » Come now, Grandpa, I’m listening. My teacher told me that in the sand, there are millions of stories…so, I’m listening.” N.B. in French "histoire" means story but also history.
I think I`ll reblog this since it gives hope that spring will come…some day [sighs]
Such a lovely spring day to be in a park. An old couple sit on a park bench. The man leans on his cane, watching his life partner talk to the birds. Gnarled fingers toss seeds to the pigeons, then places a plastic bowl filled with seeds under the bench where grateful sparrows wait.
cycling by the park
boy holding tight,
kite on a string
cycling by the park
child hangs on the monkey bar
squeak of swings
boy holding tight,
hand on her swollen belly
teeter-totter moans
kite on a string
dancing on blue canvas
how the wind sings!
© Tournesol ’16-05-15
(100 words)
Written for Heeding Haiku for Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie.
We are asked to write a haibun of 100 words with the theme the circle of life. I chose to include a troiku making my narrative and haiku a troibun. To see what a troiku is, check…
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Dear friends of MLMM,
Welcome at a new episode of Heeding Haiku With … Recently I discovered the beauty of Persian (nowadays Iranian) poetry through an article I read. I wonder if you know how beautiful the poetry is of Persia. Maybe you know Rumi or Hafiz, both are renown Persian poets and every Iranian can recite for example the poems by Hafiz. The Iranian people lives in symbiosis with the poetry of Hafiz and they even use his poems to get answers on questions they have.
This week I love to challenge you to create a haiku inspired (or distilled) from a poem by Hafiz.
The Diamond Takes Shape
Some parrots
Have become so skilled with
The human voice
They could give a brilliant discourse
About freedom and God
And an unsighted man nearby might
Even begin applauding with
The thought:
I just heard jewels fall from a
Great…
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Tournesol dans un Jardin 