cold winds (troiku)

(Troiku)

March winds
despite sunny skies
turn bones to ice

March winds
fast and furious
hat flies off his head

despite sunny skies
with a vengeance
winter hangs on

turn bones to ice
by a pot belly stove
hot cuppa thaws

© Tournesol’17/03/06

Daily Moments – March 6 2017 – cold winds TROIKU

Haiku Horizons “cold”

A troiku is a new form of haiku created by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Writing process (daily moments March 5/17)

Plus que ça change,
plus
c’est pareille. 

Far from original and lacking imagination, she crosses off the lines and taps her pen rhythmically staring out her patio window. It was as if the bare branches of the elm tree could give her a sign or perhaps it was the buzz of the traffic that was humming her verses. Tap tap tap, she stared and yet she did not see anything outside that window. She was in her own world, the pen stopped tilting, her breathing slowed and who knows where she was. Perhaps she was in the land of Calliope and Thalia filling her mind with farfetched narratives she could later interpret with her own voice.

A car honks; her pen drops from the loud intrusion and brings her back from her brief reverie. Her mind goes back to a place she so enjoys. Feelings of boredom and helplessness feed her.. She sighs and notices her cat has awakened by her sudden movement. She stretches her paws touching her mistress’ pen. Watching it roll off the table both the cat and she just stare a moment, both too comfortable in their relaxed positions.

She chuckles at the silliness of this moment and strokes the soft, long fur of her friend; leaning to pick up her pen, she meets a flash…a fleeting thought that guides her pen back to her notebook.

“The old woman hugged her thin wool coat around her and stopped at the red light. She looked to her right and saw a little girl with blonde curly locks framing her chubby face. The little girl looked at her and smiled. Her sparkling blue eyes smiled even more. The woman was surprised since most people gave her dirty looks or pitying glances. This little girl did not seem to see her the way adults did.

The light turned green and people stepped off the sidewalk to cross and the little girl jumps onto the street squealing with delight, “We are going to see Nana! Hurry, Mummy!” She pulls on her mother’s hand with purpose.

People brush by the old woman with privileged impatience; she cannot seem to find the energy to move her legs. She stares at the little girl and her words linger bringing her back to a place she has not visited in a long time

one single tear
giggles and bubblegum
drop on her cheek”

(c) Tournesol’17-03-05

Daily Moments – Writing process – Haibun  March 5, 2017

a rose (tanka)

Roses Underfoot

The sound of salaams rising as waves
diminish down in prayer,
hoping for some traceof the one
whose trace does not appear.

If anyone asks you to say who you are,
say without hesitation, soul
within soul within soul.

There`s a pearl diver who does not know
how to swim! No matter
Pearls are handed him on the beach.

We lovers laugh to hear, “This should be
more than and that more this,”
coming from people sitting in a wagon
tilted in a ditch.

Going in search of the heart, I found
a huge rose, and roses under all our feet!

How to say this to someone who denies it?
The robe we wear is the sky’s cloth.

Everything is soul and flowering.
© Rumi (Rumi, the Book of Love)

love dwells
even in unfertile land
a rose blooms
blossoms of the soul
always thrive

©Tournesol’17

Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

night performance (troiku – free verse)

We re inspired by a poem by Persian poet, Hafez

This poem is titled “all the hemispheres”:

Leave the familiar for a while.
Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season
Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.
Make a new watermark on your excitement
And love.

Like a blooming night flower,
Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness
And giving
Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

city sounds scream;
woman at the Métro door
chants the same dream
silent donations
the homeless and the poor
commuters pass by
robotic and bored
not even a glance
drifters and panhandlers
rarely have a chance.

days are all the same
chaotic silent hum
monotonous blends

Aw but the night changes everything! How she longs for sunsets and beyond, watching the sky change. Renoir and Degas learned from the great Master…

(troiku) 

watercolour skies
Aditi’s brushstrokes
Vishnu’s masterpiece

watercolour skies
midnight blues
iridescent stars

Aditi’s brushstroke
gently tracing
the milky way

Vishnu’s masterpiece
twilight sonatas
wind in her hair

©Tournesol’17

Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – nightflower

disguised teacher (tanka)

https://cupertinopoetlaureate.org/2015/03/24/side-by-side-transltions-of-rumi/
Cupertinopetlaureate 

Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

This World Which Is Made of Our Love for Emptiness
Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
This place made from our love for that emptiness!
Yet somehow comes emptiness,
this existence goes.
Praise to that happening, over and over!
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.
Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.
The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw
blown off into emptiness.
These words I’m saying so much begin to lose meaning:
Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:
Words and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof.

© Rumi

piece of straw
blown off into emptiness
a new beginning

© Chèvrefeuille

an ant turns
on an apple core
into my teacher

©Tournesol’17

 

Blushing (senryū)

Innocently
lips touched tenderly
she blushed

(c) Tournesol’17

Paul Militaru, photographer of this lovely rose. Visit his blog at PhotoPaulm

wastelands (troiku)

monsoon season
floods threaten farmlands
birth of a wasteland

monsoon season
quenching
the earth

floods threaten farmlands
yet, sometimes
nature’s just bluffing

birth of a wasteland
famine
death of a nation

(c) Tournesol’17/02/27

Haiku Horizons: waste

Daily Moments Feb 27/17 – Monsters in her closet – haibun

Having had a frightful night last night,  filled with terror in her dreams, tonight she decided she would add an insurance.  She told herself, “Well, since Mother is not here to shoo away the monsters out of my closet, I have no choice, now do I?”  And she brought her down filled duvet and set it on her comfy couch. “No way will those evil spirits roam in the living room!”

shadows
hovering
preying
searching for shelter
in her dreams

(C) Tournesol’17/02/27
Daily Moments – monsters in her closet – haibun

 

Blossoms on the bay (troiku)

doubt it not:
the blossoms of the tide also show
spring upon this bay

© Basho (Tr. Barnhill)

Oh the giddiness!
ruffles and crinolines
frilly waves

Oh the giddiness
rolling over laughing
foaming at the mouth

Ruffles and crinolines
rising and falling like –
can can dancers

Frilly waves
memories of yesteryear
our innocence

(c) Tournesol ’17/02/27

Written for: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ca/2017/02/carpe-diem-1162-ueno-iga-province.html

 

Daily moments – tower of Babel – haiku – Feb 26 2017

 

How would the world be different if we all spoke the same language?  Would we listen to each other?  Is language really an issue?  Or is the apathy of too many people in the Western world that is perpetuated by the illusion of being too far removed geographically?  We don’t even understand each other on this side of the globe?  Heck, in North America we are strangers to each other if we have not traveled a little and even travelling only gives you a hint of what is going on in different states or provinces in North America.

Visiting Toronto, New York City or San Francisco for instance, is not the same as living there.  People give their perception on life in these mega cities.  Some even argue with me about what life is like in Toronto. [I am chuckling at that because I lived there for thirteen years. Heck!  What do I know, right?]  That said, even while living in Ontario, I was surprised to hear what people “thought” they knew about Québec.

I wonder what children are learning in history classes across the country.  My manager told me the other day that a friend of his in Nova Scotia said, John Cabot discovered Canada…really?  Um, I thought he discovered Newfoundland and Samuel Champlain discovered Québec.     I always learned in history that Canada was discovered by  Jacques Cartier, and he gave it the Huron-Iroquois name, “kanata” which means settlement.

I think this blogger explains misinformation so much better than me:

“Politics is bigger than us all, we can do nothing about it, it is a filthy game of interests and calculations. But life is ours, stories are ours, it is within our reach to empower others, it is within our reach to inform others about a reality of a whole country torn by war but still doing the impossible to celebrate life. It is within our reach to bridge the gaps between each other and get over political, social, religious and ethnic differences just for the sake of the one and only, for the sake of Syria.

People form their opinions and absorbs stereotypes based on what they receive on media; we have no right to complain about how that media works unless we offer an alternative.” Source: http://jamilaeyes.com/

So I suppose I have answered my question about language not being the real issue.  The news reported by mainstream media in US and Canada is too often questionable. [I am only mentioning North American because this is where I live.]  Yet, in this age of technology, there is no reason not to be curious enough and see what is being said in other parts of the world by people who are living and breathing their own realities and not just take for granted that we, foreigners, reporting in other countries may not have all the information. Sometimes we just don’t ask the right questions or is it that we choose which questions to ask to get answers we want to believe?”

nature’s jest
clear waters always flow
in babbling brooks

©Tournesol’17/02/26

Even after reading a few articles on the same subject to see if I can sift through what is truth and what is not, I still know little.  But, I refuse to believe mainstream media at face value anymore…just tired of it.  Thankfully,  blogging has gotten me closer to the other side of the globe and we also share the love of poetry and storytelling.

How I choose to learn more now is by listening to people telling their stories in their own words.

Daily moments – tower of Babel – haiku – Feb 26 2017

This was written for Linda G. Hill on her Friday reminder for SoCS.