la confiance
une seule sottise
démolie
mille et une finesses
possiblement, cette confiance
suscitée
*****
trust
one foolish act
in ruins
trust…after
thousands of good graces
may be revived
© Tournesol ’15
Poetry ~ Waka
la confiance
une seule sottise
démolie
mille et une finesses
possiblement, cette confiance
suscitée
*****
trust
one foolish act
in ruins
trust…after
thousands of good graces
may be revived
© Tournesol ’15
fireflies
torch light dancing to the
crickets chirp
© Rallentanda
~
dancing fairies
jive with glitter and glitz
nature’s make-believe
© Tournesol ’15
Two beautiful haiku I had to share here from Mary Kendall’s blog, “A Poet in time”
Two poems of mine were just published in the May 2015 issue of ‘cattails,’ the lovely online publication of the United Haiku and Tanka Society. I am truly honored once again by being included in the company of such excellent poets. My thanks to all of the editors, and especially to the main editor, an’ya.
The first is a haiga. My thanks to my good friend, Debbie Nemer Suggs who gave me permission to use her lovely photo (c) 2015 with my haiku.
~
and the other poem is a haiku:
petals fall—
we gather rosehips thinking
only of tea~

Happy Birthday Mother
Midsummer celebration
Through sodden tears
And quiet lamentation
the longest day of the year
miss you, Mother dear.
****************************

nebulous skies
Solstice cuckolded
mourning long life
daylight masked, ever weary
shadows midsummer`s eve
longest day
exhales last slow breath
cicada cries
© Tournesol ’15

As a youth up to my early teens, my family would go camping from May (Victoria weekend) until mid-October (Canadian Thanksgiving). I would literally go for a quick swim about a week after the ice had melted…just to impress my father and he and my sister would take down the tent often in the snow in October.
Every weekend my parents, sister and I would ride up to Isle le Motte, Vermont (on Champlain Lake) to spend a weekend in the fresh air. Friday night when we arrived, would consist of eating split pea soup before going to bed and Saturday we would often have T-bone steak with huge wieners and baked potatoes on the BBQ for dinner.
Thankfully the family that camped next door were our good friends (more like our second family) from our hometown and had three children, the two eldest were teens; so the parents would sit around a campfire and do adult stuff like tells jokes and drink lots of Bloody Mary’s except for my dad who was sober since I was seven and the teens would listen to The Rolling Stones and the Beatles on our turntable….yes, there was electricity that served for our entertainment so we did not whine to our parents we were bored; electricity was only for tacky lanterns lit around the campsite and our record player.
Before starting the fire however, my father would combine the fixings to make home-baked beans, put it all in an earthenware pot and he had purchased a tiny square oven (looked just like a tin box) and dig it in the centre of the ground beneath the bonfire. The beans baked all night long .
New dawn whispers
Sunday breakfast simmers
neath amber ashes
© Tournesol’15
shamanic journey
a red dragonfly comes
to guide the canoe
© Jane Reichhold
shamanic journey
a red dragonfly comes
to guide the canoe
songs of gulls inspire
rumble of the rapids
© Tournesol ’15
Mom’s on the phone
tots deeply absorbed in fun
frantic clean-up
© Tournesol ’15