lumière blanche (haibun)

They kneel around his bed whispering their prayers. Seven children and the youngest seventeen holding back his tears, showing a brave face. The golden spaniel whimpers on the floor. His wife holds ice chips to his lips. Propped up with pillows, facecloth on his forehead, he looks at his loved ones, he smiles and sighs, “La lumière blanche…que c’est beau!”

flying deer
trailing a white light
look of wonder

look of wonder
embracing grace
heaven awaits

Yuletide blessings (troiku)

On church steps
showered with blessings
Christmas Eve snowfall

on church steps
laughing, hugging, well wishes
Yule tidings

showered with blessings
watches her loved ones savour
love spiced stuffing

Christmas Eve snowfall
florets floating softly – rest
on rosy cheeks

Prompt at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai was “Happiness” today

memory lane (tanka)

On this day over three decades has passed…a baby girl was born; she didn’t want to leave the womb…much! Resisting reality and the inevitable, she entered this world two weeks later.

on a digital tour,
a last summer visit –
family album
reminiscing the past
babies no more

Inspired by:

sifting through
the personal effects
of a spider’s web
an autumn wind loosens
another anchor thread

leaving the nest (haibun)

At Carpe Diem, we are asked to write a haibun to the haiku written by Kala Ramesh., Taking Flight. The narrative and haiku must not be more thatn 150 words. Here is my narrative.

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Her mother told her she was her “baton de veillesse”. Every birthday, her mother repeated the story that she was conceived on a Sunday afternoon. “You were planned. You are special.”

She knew what her mother meant with those innuendos and guilt trips, “after all I did for you.” When she finished college, she had to return home to help her parents support her three younger siblings.

“Is this my calling?” she often asked the Great Spirit. She felt this responsibility getting heavier each year. Once the youngest sibling had fled the nest to marry, she too decided it was time.

One June night, she left in the wee hours of the morning never looking back.

Cher Maman & Papa,
Merci de me donner la vie; maintenant je vais la vivre.
Votre fille, bien aimée xx

taking flight –
a butterfly shrugs off
its shadow
© Kala Ramesh

(147 words)

Baton de viellesse is a French expression meaning that child has a duty to take care of her parents when they age. It was probably often used before pensions or social security existed.

sweetened with love (haibun-Haiga festival)

Since I received a belated birthday bouquet of roses today, it is only common sense to write about that. After all, we are far from seeing any budding blossoms here and these are my first flowers of 2015. The fragrance of roses is that much sweeter when given with love from a child…another special day.

on a March day
searching for blossoms
Mother’s birthday

Mother’s birthday
celebrating decades
scent of a rose

scent of a rose
mother weeps with joy
counts her blessings

Carpe Diem “First flowers”

treasures (haiku)

journeys through time
photos of long ago
treasured gifts

mother and father
gifted with sounds
newborn’s cry

Haiku Horizons “gift”

daisies for life (tanka)

Daisies are my favourite flower for reasons I have shared in the past. I relate to this flower in so many aspects. It is not especially stunning compared to so many other exquisite floras but it is still attractive and strong. Multiple petals show many facets of my personality…and still many to discover over a lifetime.

Sowing more seeds has allowed me to have daisies for life…children and grandchildren and it all starts with that first born. At that time I thought I would never have enough love to spread…I remember how much I loved my godchild before I ever had children and it worried me a bit. “Is it possible to love a child more than that or as much?” I quickly saw that it was certainly possible and when I had my second child, the love was still in abundance as there is more to spare for my grandson. Recently I’ve had two more grandsons added to our family and the heart seems to just swell more and more. How wonderful to see how the Great Spirit created our hearts and souls.

Today we celebrated the birth of my first born…
(tanka)

daisies for life
meadows seasoned with love
birth of a child
mother’s never-ending love
a family is born

an angel stands in wait (haiku)

Thinking of my friend this week…

her sobs echo
across the Atlantic
a long journey

Caspian Sea and
Arabian Gulf imbibe
salty tears

the skies rumble
iridescent light,
safe passage

pain free at last
an angel stands by, waiting
in white light

heavens whisper
the last chapter,
Rumi stirs

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Don’t run away from grief , o soul
Look for the remedy inside the pain.
because the rose came from the thorn
and the ruby came from a stone.

un grand homme/a great man (haibun)

We seem to be in the spirit of death, being in the middle of autumn, approaching Halloween and all Saint`s Day November 1st; we also call this month in French, le mois des morts (month of the dead). November 11th, being rememberance day where we pay tribute to all the soldiers who gave their lives for their country and for world peace. And so I continue on remembering another great man…my grandfather, when he died in his home, Princess, his old mongrel (spaniel mix) went down to the basement and howled grieving for her master. She stayed there for a week in mourning.

la mort d’un grand homme – Grandpapa

pinson est muet
dernier souffle du maître,
vieux chien hurle

death of a great man – Grandfather

blue-finch falls silent
master’s last breath,
old dog howls

Childhood scents (haibun)

I knew I was going to be a smoker eventually. When I was very young, sitting in the back seat of my father’s car, I couldn’t wait to have him light that first cigarette. The sweet scent of tobacco at just the first puff. (No worries I quit smoking a while ago)

Chevy Impala

red leather seats

Sweet Caporal

In the summer my mother was so busy hairdressing we would go swimming at the local pool. The river was reserved ONLY when adults were around. The pool was not the same, opening your eyes under water was such a habit in lakes and rivers but boy did it burn the eyes in the pool and the smell was so strong. It smelled like GrandMaman’s laundry room when she had to soak sheets for a long time to get them white.

blue water,

cement floor

laundry scents

When I was ten, we started camping, mostly close by weekends in Vermont but for vacation, we would head out every year to Old Orchard, Maine. The owner of a huge camp ground was friends with my parents and less than a mile from the ocean. I keep thinking of lobsters and steamed clams dipped in melted butter eating at the picnic table.

pine needles,

oil lantern heats the tent

salt water air.

GrandMaman had a huge vegetable garden not counting the flower beds. August until end of September was canning and pickling time for all her produce. The kitchen was always busy. I still don`t know how she managed to keep borders at her house, cook, clean, garden and still be a midwife. She had to stay busy to support herself since GrandPapa passed when I was 6.

hot stove and veggies

chez GrandMaman

vinegar stings

She often got a phone call late in the evening and I would often cry and plead with her not to go. She would wash, put baby powder as her choice of a midwife’s cologne…makes sense now that I think about it. She then put on her white uniform, white nylons and white “sensible” shoes.

Ivory soap

traces of pressed uniform,

baby powder lingers

My mother was a hairstylist and I grew up with our living room converted into a beauty salon. Still today, the lull of a hair dryer makes me sleepy, the smell of hair spray, permanent and hair dyes brings me back to the 1960’s. I still ask my hairdresser now and then if I can sweep the floor; brings me back to my youth and my chores.

shampoo, peroxide

hair spray, conditioners

hair dryer lulls

Of course when my mom would get ready to go out I knew she was going to be out late when she put on her make up, curling those eyelashes, painting her lips, fluffed her natural curly hair with her fingers…but that last touch…Youth Dew scent, that blue bottle…always put on too much…she loved perfumes!