Poetry ~ Waka
safflower field
beneath the periwinkle sky –
sight to dye for
© Björn Rudberg
amazing sight
a yellow sea as far as I can see
Safflower field
© Chèvrefeuille
&&&&&&&&&&
summer rains lull
colours bleed into puddles
safflowers rouse
radiant blossoms
whimsical and free
( c) Tournesol ’15
How odd, she thought, to hear birds singing late at night when she walks home. Every night she hears the distinct songs from trees decorating the lit entrance of the shopping mall. Day workers hear the blended melodies of birds preparing for dusk but she often misses this. It makes her think of long ago, sitting in the kitchen with her grandmaman before retiring…a cuppa and pain grillé with pâté de foi gras or tête au fromage; they would chat a bit about this and that always ending with this loving elder’s counsel to say her prayers before going to sleep.
Working late, she rarely hears the birds gathering chirping one over the other. But every night, she hears this lovely tweeting and it comforts her. She feels blessed being remembered when she hears the birds singing at night…she has not been forgotten.
starlit sky
walks home chanting her mantra
chirping robins greet
nature in its purest form
beauty blends for all to feel
© Tournesol ’15
Ah, wind, wind
my saviour today
trees and their leaves
protect me all day
despite this heatwave
© Tournesol ’15
This was written during our heatwave last week August 16th – 20th’15
Walking home alone
stars fill the blue black sky
sans my friend moon
energy wanes in darkness
night walk longs for moonbeams
© Tournesol ’15
Just one
picked for his lover
long stem rose
fragrant and wanting
lipstick painted mouth
© Tournesol ’15
Normally this prompt requires 5 sentences; just for fun I thought I would try to tell a story in five lines in a Tanka. Written for five sentence Fiction
Rolling waves
wind gusts bind the jib
stirring bellies
staring at the mocking sky
through the porthole
© Tournesol ’15
Written for Tanka Poets on Site on Facebook
Prompt: Through the porthole
moments of delight
yesteryear or yesterday
joys reborn
bitter cold winters
darkness shrouds light of day
recalling blossoms
budding on apple trees
visions bring me back to joy
all those firsts
hearing “Mommy, I wuv you”
brings such joy
sun kissed skies
dewdrops on soft white petals
early dawn of joy
sunset
dips beneath blue azure
fluid hues of joy
© Tournesol ’15
Daylight daze
going through the motions
semi-conscious
blossoming spirit morphs
a moonflower in the night
© Tournesol ’15
moors on Isle of May
mists over the foreign highlands
under harvest moon
old mariner feigns to see
heather in his Bonnie’s hair
(c) Tournesol ’15
We were to complete the following haiku:
Here is the challenge: We are to complete the haiku below; adding the first and third line plus we have to use another kigo (seasonword); in the second line the “mists” refers to autumn …
…………………….
mists over the foreign highlands
…………………….
Here is our host’s completed haiku:
ancient warriors ghosts
mists over the foreign highlands –
waiting for the full moon
© Chèvrefeuille
Heeding Haiku at Mindlovemiserysmenagerie
–
– NEKNEERAJ
The little prince would wake up before the servants so he could watch the sun rise. He would run out into the field, such a little tyke of only five and sit crossed legged in the darkness and wait. The sun peeked slowly through dark clouds and he felt the ground tremble under him …a steady drumming until the sun shone on his face. He heard singing in a language he did not understand but the voices came from children he could not quite see. He imagined cherubs smiling and floating around him…he remembers Mother showing him images of these “angels”, she called them.
He would run back home and climb back into bed and pretend to be asleep when Mother came in to kiss him good morning.
“Come, child, it is time for your singing lessons.” He jumped out of bed so excited to learn more. His spirit seemed to soar when he sang. The lesson lasted three hours and for a child his age it was like an entire day. The rest of the day he went out to play in the field with the children of servants until sunset…
At that moment he would run away from the children to his special spot he usually sat early mornings and looked at the sun dip into the horizon. The trembling was not there, the singing was not either, only the faint sound of a flute that seemed to cry softly bringing tears to his eyes as Mother Nature bid him good night.
(tanka)
morning sunshine
earth shudders…`tis time
message in the glow
enchanting chorus echoes
communion of their souls
© Tournesol’15
Tournesol dans un Jardin 
