a silent wash of tears (haibun)

Amma

It was my first retreat. I  was sharing a room with a long time devotee I  had never met.   I was not even worried but what did unnerve me,  was how would I  react when this spiritual Mother, this world renowned guru would arrive?  Would I  feel something special within?  Would there be a sign from the universe? I was going out of curiosity that summer of 2014  as I had been seeking something to help me grow spiritually. I was open to learn.

The first day I arrived I waited with my token,  in a long line,  to be embraced by this amazing woman. I  reached the stage and sat down waiting to be summoned to move forward. I could feel my body shake out of anticipation or nervousness.
I wasn’t sure which.

My mind went back to when I had to face the bishop as a child  at my Confirmation.  I  was so nervous I had to pee so bad!  Not unusual since I was confirmed at five years old. Young? Yes, but I was  tall and my  mother wanted to spare the embarrassment of towering over my peers, so the priest gave his permission.  I took extra Catechism lessons and memorized The Apostles’ Creed and I would be led to that man with the tall pointed hat!  I  did not appreciate the slap on the cheek (The teacher forgotten to tell me about that part)

Minutes later, I  was standing in front of the beloved Mother and I  lowered my body to be embraced. Her warm hug was like that of my  grandmother’s, as if we knew each other forever and yet we were strangers…or had we once met in another lifetime?

Three days of similar rituals, meditations, warm compassionate talks and beautiful stories,  singing…so much singing and the tap tap of the Tabla drums filled the room.   On Devi Bhava, after Amma had completed all her hugs, her blessings and it was time to leave…she stood up on the stage,  looking at all her devotees for one last long endearing moment.

The vast room filled with thousands of people fell  silent…mere echoes of a far away cough, a tiny baby gurgling and Amma’s eyes on all of her devotees; was it possible to feel this pure love wash over each and everyone in that hall?

crowd falls silent
Holy Mother’s reverent gaze
beat of a heart,
echoes in the chamber of a chest
tears roll softly down a cheek

© Tournesol ’15

preys of deception (troiku)

© Clr’14

that innocent look,
puppy dog eyes luring
victims of his charm

that innocent look
they fall prey
his deceptive charm

puppy dog eyes wait
charm them in parks and beaches
false look of kindness

victims of his charm
sobbing victims betrayed,
look of pretense

© Tournesol ’15

© Clr'15
© Clr’15

This week, we are to do opposite meanings in our two formed sentences. RonavanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge “Charm & Look”

traces (troiku)

taoraruru hito ni kaoru ya ume no hana

the flowering branch of the plum
gives its scent
to him who broke it off

© Chiyo-Ni

************

frail and broken
trace of plum blossoms linger
on his fingers

frail and broken
during winter’s slumber
waiting to heal

trace of plum blossoms linger
now and forever
their first love

on his fingers
only an illusion
scent of her shampoo

© Tournesol’15

Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

treasures (haiku)

hidden treasures
at the bottom of the sea
on a string of pearls

© Tournesol’15

le temps des fêtes (haibun)

The week before Christmas was a busy time in la famille Lafleuré.  Baking of tourtières with veal and moose, maple syrup doughnuts, apple pies, sugar and pecan pies.  Pheasants were killed and cleaned for Christmas dinner.  Grandmère Lafleur was busy making toffee candy for the children Christmas Eve when they would sit around the decorated tree telling stories of Noël long ago.

Children were excited and cleaning their rooms including under the bed since they were told le Père Noël did a survey in all childrens’ bedrooms to ensure they did all their chores.

Papa Lafleur had finished cleaning  the fireplace and Christmas Eve afternoon, he went up on the roof of the house while the children were skating on the pond.  They loved watching their father clean the chimney singing old ballads from long ago.  Before coming down, he tied a long red velvet ribbon around the chimney.  Tonight was the night Santa would visit from the north Pole.

tree

C’est le temps des fêtes
les enfants crient de joie
l’arrivé du Père Noël

©Tournesol ’15

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

melancholy (haibun)

This is a time of year a virus peaks its ugly head around mid-November.  It  spreads a virus to those most vulnerable. You may not “catch” it at the same time; you may not catch it every year and yet, there does not seem to be guaranteed antibiotic to cure its infective powers.

September days start waning as the sun sets sooner; October days rob you of nature’s dinner’s sweetest and most potent “digestif”.  November drops its veil of hoary matter and thickens day after day, week after week hiding nature’s Monet, slowly slipping into Picasso’s  Blue period.   Nights are longer than days and symptoms of this virus multiply

Humans are deprived of nature’s nutrient feeding brains with hope and cheer. Life, death, separation and loss blend.  Waiting, as it stings open wounds and those who’ve barely healed  are reminded  of life’s demises.

Children as well as adults struggle through these muddy paths sucked into the windstorm of grief and loss adjusting  to season’s changes in the depths of their heart and soul.

Staring out her window, faithful cat by her side,  cloves comes to mind. That dark bud stares at her, hard and bitter scents bleed into her soul, remembering  Grandmaman in the kitchen adding spices to the turkey dressing.  A portion of sage, pepper, salt and savory, are measured in the palm of her hand.  She smiles when asked the portions as she adds just a pinch of cloves.  Only she had the antidote that lifts the greyness of the soul and makes the heart beat anew.

clove
http://www.webindia123.com/garden/herb_spi/clove.jpg

Mother’s spice of life
unopened flower buds
cloves of promise

© Tournesol’15

The prompt at Linda Hill’s Friday reminder for Stream of Conciousness Saturday is “clo”

 

"</p

Indian Summer (haibun)

©Clr`15/12/08

Fallen leaves carpet grounds in ambers, except for those that hold on limbs for dear life. Parks are barren, missing squeals of youths and laughter among families. Park benches are abandoned by lovers, both young and old. Autumn’s melancholy mushrooms over time as winds blow mockingly. Suddenly, temperatures rise to unseasonal heights with warmer days, oh! so short-lived, teasing all things living.

Indian Summer squats
basking under sun kissed skies
Mother Nature lies.

© Tournesol’15/12/08

Six Sentence Stories “lie”

Six Sentence Stories at Unchartedblogdotorg

&

Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

tipping the scale

hunters’ rules,
doe eyed creatures with antlers
balancing nature

balancing nature
humans embracing greed,
tipping the scale

©Tournesol’15

Haiku Horizons “balance”

Strength (Pleiades ~ Haiku)

 

https://mrpsmythopedia.wikispaces.com/Pleiades

(Pleiades)

strength of the fearless Titians
shamelessly, Atlas fought
steadfast and valiant,
sternly punished by Zeus
shoulders held the heavens
still, father of daughters
seven frail sisters

~

(Haiku)

seven sisters
stars in Taurus’ shoulder
metamorphosed

© Tournesol ’15

 

http://www.atam.org/pleiades.jpg See above           Pleione (mother), Atlas (father) and  seven sisters

Written for MindLoveMiserysMenagerie and B&P Shadorma and Beyond

A Pleiades is a 7 line poem created by Craig Tigerman. It is named after the stars in the Pleiades star cluster in the constellation Taurus. Each line has 6 syllables and begins with the same letter – which is the first letter in the (one word) title.

Shadow Poetry tells us that “six of the stars (in Pleiades) are readily visible to the naked eye; depending on visibility conditions between nine and twelve stars can be seen. Modern astronomers note that the cluster contains over 500 stars. The ancients named these stars the seven sisters: Alcyone, Asterope, Celaeno, Electra, Maia, Merope, and Tygeta; nearby are the clearly visible parents, Atlas and Pleione.”

 

 

 

 

longing (Pleaides ~ Haibun)

A Pleiades is a 7 line poem created by Craig Tigerman.  It is named after the stars in the Pleiades star cluster in the constellation Taurus.  Each line has 6 syllables and begins with the same letter – which is the first letter in the (one word) title.

http://xyer.co/pleiades-wallpapers.html

(Pleiades) 

lolling on nature’s bed
look-up to the heavens
long for lavish showers
lustrous stars flourishing
left speechless and breathless
lamenting for lost souls
lust filled stars shimmering

~

(Haibun)

Every year in mid-August, they used to lounge on the ground…two couples, heads touching looking up to the sky, pointing, shouting and alerting each other of a shooting star. All night long eyes caught in the sea of Pleiades that cool summer night. Year after year, it was a ritual at the camp by the lake. The children stayed up with the adults until midnight. The parents stayed up until four in the morning, not one bit of tiredness for their conversations between shooting stars sightings they bonded as adults, man, woman, mother, father, husband wife and sailors.

~
August Perseid
lay in wait on dewy grass
counting shooting stars

© Tournesol ’15

Mindlovemiserysmenagerie – BP Shadorma and Beyond