bitter (daily post – tanka)

her lips puckered,
the old neighbour stared with hope –
sucking a lemon
bitterly disappointed
the old man slammed the front door

©Tournesol’17/05/09

Written for The Daily Post – Bitter

perfum d’espoir (troibun)

There is nothing like the feeling of rich dark soil slip through your fingers when planting a garden. Gloves will only rob you of that sense of life at your fingertips. Think about the erotic sensation of a piece of cheese cake or decadent truffles; feel the smooth richness on your tongue…

arching their bodies
nature’s sweet arousal
nestling in its moistness
in and out, in and out
worms surrender blissfully

(troiku)

autumn’s last harvest
winter’s table scraps
black gold of gardeners

autumn’s last harvest
feeding sod nutrients
leftover leaves

winter’s table scraps
Mother Nature’s caviar
salivating worms

black gold of gardeners
putrefying stench
parfum de la vie

©Tournesol’17/05/09

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

Written for Poetics Tuesday Dverse-Poetics Pub- Soil Poetics

Today at DversePoetsPub, Björn Rudberg (brudberg) in Poetics wants you to write poetry about soil. This is what he says:

“To me soil is both the source of life, and destiny for death. Soil is where we come from and soil you’ll be:

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust

I both love and hate the scent of mulch. I love the growth and fear decay. I love to walk barefoot in warm dirt, but afterwards I wash my feet.
Soil gives grain for bread, but when the weather fails we die of hunger.
Soil is friend and foe.

There are many synonyms for soil: mulch and compost, dirt and grime, earth and ground all reflect the soil and various values we attribute to its worth.
Soil can be metaphors for land and country, for home and nations. For war and peace and for the roots of trees.
Taste the soil or bite the dust, bring me poetry from what you sense in soil.
Be gravedigger or gardener, be soil of your origin and dig it deep.

Daily Moments – floral reflections May 7 2017

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

under a spell (Friday Music @MindlovemiserysMenagerie)

At Friday Music we are given a beautiful Québecois song for our inspiration. The song is even more special since it is by a Québecois singer/songwriter, Alex Nevsky [formerly Alexandre Parent) from Granby, Québec which is in the Eastern Townships where I was raised. I decided to write a haibun concluded with a tanka. I have not added the English translation as the literary translation does not do the song justice.

Jeter un sort, par Alex Nevsky Cœur de pirate

Lyrics for Jeter un sort by Alex Nevsky feat. Cœur de pirate

Qu’importe le temps et les promesses
Si longtemps ce n’est que maladresse
Et j’attends de toujours ton regard

Qui se pose sur mes lèvres en retard

Qu’importe le bleu de l’océan
C’est le vide que je vois finalement
Pris ici et rien pour s’arracher
De nos coeurs si intimement liés

J’ai jeté un sort
Sans trop savoir ce qu’on deviendrait
Corps à corps on disparait
À travers l’aurevoir

Et j’ai tout donné à cette cause
Cette fois c’est assez
Laisse nous au moins partir
Laisse nous au moins vivre

Laisse moi au moins vivre

Qu’importe la beauté du pardon
Aucun n’oiseaux ne mourra si nous partons
Chacun pour soi vers les jours malheureux
Tout nous déçois, mais veux-ton vraiment mieux

Est-ce nécessaire de regarder
Loin devant soi
Pour comprendre qu’on c’est égaré
L’horizon n’est peut-être plus dans tes yeux
De précision, mais plus jamais de feux

J’ai jeté un sort
Sans trop savoir ce qu’on deviendrait
Corps à corps on disparait
À travers l’aurevoir

Et j’ai tout donné à cette cause
Cette fois c’est assez
Laisse nous au moins partir
Laisse nous au moins vivre

J’ai jeté un sort
Sans trop savoir ce qu’on deviendrait
Corps à corps on disparait
À travers l’aurevoir

Et j’ai tout donné à cette cause
Cette fois c’est assez
Laisse nous au moins partir
Laisse nous au moins vivre

Laisse moi amusions vivre

Sitting in the café, she lifted her head and rubbed her neck from writing for so long. Her eyes turned towards the fireplace. A young man was reading, with his head leaning against the ear of the armchair. She could vaguely read the title…Bonheur d’O… She wondered if this was fate…this handsome man reading one of her favourite love stories by Gabrielle Roy, Bonheur d’Occasion.

She lowered her head slightly to return to her writing and only slightly tilted her head…she was fascinated to see a man read such a romantic book and now she was curious. Was he a professor or a grad student?

Then he turned towards her direction…

plunged in liquid blues
swimming in transcendence
breath held a moment
time’s at a standstill
bliss multiplied by two

©Tournesol’17/04/08

More about Gabrielle Roy in English from The Canadian Encyclopedia

Alex Nevsky

Written for Friday Music at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

crossing the line (tanka)

crossing the line
may cause so much hate
with only one misdeed
change may take time
healing at one’s own pace

©Tournesol’17/03/28

Written for the 5 word prompt at the Secret Keeper

CAUSE – HATE – CHANGE – LINE – PACE

humble (tanka)

iridescence
in your golden rays
diamonds hang
shimmering in the rain
I bow to Mother Nature

©Tournesol’17/03/09

http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ca/2017/03/carpe-diem-1169-humble.html

Our host writes:
unseen flowers
between the oversized leaves –
a humble haijin

We are inspired by Hafiz, a Persian poet:

From the large jug, drink the wine of Unity,
So that from your heart you can wash away the futility of life’s grief.
But like this large jug, still keep the heart expansive.
Why would you want to keep the heart captive, like an unopened bottle
of wine?
With your mouth full of wine, you are selfless
And will never boast of your own abilities again.
Be like the humble stone at your feet rather than striving to be like a
Sublime cloud: the more you mix colors of deceit, the more colorless
your ragged wet coat will get.
Connect the heart to the wine, so that it has body,
Then cut off the neck of hypocrisy and piety of this new man.
Be like Hafiz: Get up and make an effort. Don’t lie around like a bum.
He who throws himself at the Beloved’s feet is like a workhorse and will
be rewarded with boundless pastures and eternal rest.

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.

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

©Tournesol’17

Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

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