He read the pink note again she had given him in math class. He hurriedly stuffed it in his pocket and walked home with a goofy grin.
mind buzzing
butterflies in his tummy
drunk on love
(c) Tournesol’15
Poetry ~ Waka
He read the pink note again she had given him in math class. He hurriedly stuffed it in his pocket and walked home with a goofy grin.
mind buzzing
butterflies in his tummy
drunk on love
(c) Tournesol’15
pre-dawn cloudburst
flowers hang their heavy heads
old man heaves
coming home from Hurley’s Pub
hanging low away from mum
(c) Tournesol ’15
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ca/2015/08/on-trail-with-basho-encore-11-drinking.html

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

Berri Métro Station is at the same location of the city bus terminal where many homeless people find warmth from the cold and cool air from the hot muggy summers. On the second undergrown level there are shops and a food court then a door opens to the tunnel leading to the pay stalls. In the tunnel there is a guitarist and you can hear the rare tinkle of spare change in the guitar case. About fifty feet before the stalls there is an amazing pizza counter…cash only and a makeshift interior terrace with tables to eat. For $3.00 you can eat a point of pizza with a soft drink.

cash only pizza
window of opportunities
begging for coins
© Tournesol ’15
–
– 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
Pocketful of blessings. That is what I am feeling today. The past two weeks I have been blessed with the presence of wonderful, compassionate and amazing people in person and virtually.
You know when you travel and pick up a pebble or rock to keep as a souvenir? Well, so far I have a pocketful of blessings. I am seeing more and more how we are more the same than we are different if you look deep into your heart. We are all from one amazing race…the Human Race.
(tanka)
nature’s blessings
starlings harmonize at dawn
scent of flowers
angelic arcs multi-hued
artist’s last strokes at dusk
© Tournesol ’15

harmonica cries
lonely sailor sighs in wait
’til lighthouse winks
© Tournesol ’15