Poetry ~ Waka
(troiku)
autumn simmers
reassessing life’s options
season’s nesting spell
autumn simmers
rolling into sleepy times
winter’s slumber
reassessing life
sitting by a crackling fire
knitting my options
season’s nesting spell
searching under winter skies
making snow angels
(shadorma)
thoughts echo
in my weary brain
telling me
to slow down
run through future options
life is too damn short
©Tournesol’17/11/16
Daily moments – reassessing – November 16th, 2017
If you talk to a man in a language he understand, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart. –Nelson Mandela
How can I not write something on this date November 15th. Je m’en souviens all too well. Sure I have mixed feelings being of two cultures and embracing both. My mother, being French Québecois has always said she was a bilingual Canadian. She has never shared the vengeance and yet she has surely experienced the unfairness and the disrespect all too often.
My father, being of Irish and Welsh background, his maternal grandfather settled here due to his Irish Catholic background but his father being of the mindset of English is best allowed me to feel the humiliation for my mother.
French speaking persons in the 50’s and 60’s could not get decent work if they did not speak fluent English and even then, it was difficult to rise in a company carrying a French name. How this has changed dramatically today!
I understand the need for change. One must be mindful, when the pendulum swings too much and stays there, it turns justice into resentment and vengeance. And being of these two cultures, I have too often been on the fence carrying the sins of my ancestors.
history
in the making
November 15th
a new government is born
1976
citizens hail
Vivre le Québec Libre
français shall rule
laws to preserve their language
change well past due
years of oppression
fuels their passion
the pendulum swings
©Tournesol’17/11/15
Written for MicroPoetry Month November 15th 2017
the old man listens to the melodies
water running over timeless rocks
lyrics swimming in his head
an angel met him here long ago
even fish splashed in the creek
only her memory remains
***
breathing her name
with a long wistful sigh
a tear runs down his cheek
leaves rustle in the wind
a sparrow sings a love song
sitting on the log
the old man smiles
embracing the past
©Tournesol’17/11/14
Daily Moments Nov. 14 – MicroPoetry Month #14 & Haiku Horizons: log
five o’clock shadows
hasty dusk settles
all day long
five o’clock shadows
greyness fills the soul
sullen shroud
hasty dusk settles
hiding any hope
melancholy rains
all day long
life without promise
haunting season’s end
©Tournesol’17/11/13
Written for MicroPoetry Month #13 – Daily Moments. Looking outside all I saw was grey and took a photo…the photo does not seem as grey as the day actually.
The sun shines brightly in the cold pale skies and yet, her soul is filled with greyness? The day will move slowly as she shuffles through her clutter. That old overcoat that should have been thrown in the trash, swings gently from side to side. What is she doing still holding on to those tan boots that cramp her toes? They remind her of better days and happy times, strutting with a sense of purpose. As she moves further into the greyness she finds her mother’s old raincoat she has yet to wear. As she slips it on, she feels her presence…still.
soft scents
float around her
Chanel
soft scents
rest in droplets
kissing her cheek
float around her
Sinatra and Doris Day
melodies
Chanel
admiring CoCo
worshiping the sun
©Tournesol’17/11/12
I love the haibun form and since I have also fallen in love with the Troiku (a haiku form created by Chevrefeuille at CarpeDiemHaikuKai) I have coined the haibun with a troiku, Troibun.
Written for MicroPoetry Month #12 where we are inspired to write a haibun.
The shame oh the shame
seeping from the pores
of our pale pink skins
every man,
woman and child
suffering bound in chains
enough to make
any mind go wild
the shame oh the shame
seeping from the pores
of our pale pink skins
every man, woman and child have dreamed
of their forefathers
recalling tales of yesteryear
and such better days than here!
the shame oh the shame
seeping from the pores
of our pale pink skins
dear blessed Mother of God
pray for our mortal sins
of absolution
we are not worthy
tainted by our greed
we must make restitution
for sins that were commissioned
will there ever be resolve
in our own privileged life span
and centuries we have robbed them all
due respect and compassion?
the shame oh the shame
seeping from the pores
of our pale pink skins
blessed Divine Mother, please,
pray for our mortal sins
© Tournesol’17/11/11
Daily moments November 11/17 slaves no more
Written for Mocropoetry Month
I was trying to watch 12 Years a Slave and could not watch half, it was too difficult and so My muse took over…
This started free flow but noticed there were many senryu and tanka within. What was most important for me was to release these thoughts.
Sun pales the sky
as I breathe the cool brisk air
puffs of smoke
autumn winds
leaves blowing on the road
the old man’s hat
(c) Tournesol ‘17-11-10
Daily moments – frigid day nov 19 /17 MicroPoetry Month #10
This morning I could only reflect “freely” on this and so these haiku are my writing freely. It finally went minus 5 C and snow covered the lives on the side of the streets. I had to take the plunge and wear my winter coat and warm scarf. brrrrrrrrr
Rose petals
scent so sweet
soft as silk
rose petals
on fresh crisp sheets
their wedding night
scent so sweet
taste of pure bliss
on her lips
soft as silk
chubby fingers searching
Mommy’s hand
(c) Tournesol’17-11-09
Haiku Prompt Challenge at Ronovan Writes: SMOOTH AND HAND
A troiku is a new form of haiku created by Chevrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai
This is a free verse written for MicroPoetry Month with the theme of “violence” in mind, reflections of a youth counsellor, followed by solo renga.
She listens with benevolence
their stories never told
the shame and guilt of violence
those tales so raw and bold
of adults spewing cunning lies
they violate ‘til she cries.
A pause ensues, she hears a sigh
despite attempts to offer hope
their stories make her cry
said tears bring no relief
some tales are just too hard to bear
she hears them in their grief;
the hardest tale of all to share
are secrets found in dark despair
illicit truths, unmasking lies
“You know I love you… Daddy cares.!”
she holds their secrets in her heart
and hopes the healing may finally start
tomorrow is another day
she knows it will soon start again
and she’ll be there to hear their say
in hopes to soothe the constant pain
if even for the briefest moment
expunge the grief away
(solo renga)
autumn leaves
left on the grounds
destroy emerald greens
remains left to decompose
destroy the life beneath
tending to debris
allows the earth to breath
thrive again in spring
©Tournesol ’17/11/09
Sexual Assault Canada ; Child Abuse in Canada
This video shows true stories in America and statistics as well in U.S.A. – Child Abuse prevention PSA
morning glory
garden graced with diamonds
winking at me
morning glory
sunbeams
on my window
garden graced with diamonds
touching every gently
ice melts in my hand
winking at me
follows me home safely
man on the moon
©Tournesol’17/11/08
This is a troiku, a new form of haiku created by Chevreveuille at CarpeDiemHaikuKai Written for HaikuHorizons: Ice
