Poetry ~ Waka
Mother,
roses scream our love -pompoms
your perfection
© Tournesol ’15
September 9 30 days of haiga – Northern Hemisphere: Chrysanthemum blossoms or Chrysanthemum tea
Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille – Chrysanthemum
*The two White roses represent my sister and me,a Red rose from her husband, Orange roses from her grandchildren, Yellow from her great-grandchildren.
how long
until shootings cease
nation heals
how long
an innocent child dies
families grieve
how long-
until angels carry
where the sun shines
where the sun shines
echoes of cherubim
field of daisies
© Tournesol ’15
In memory of the tragedy of Jamyla
*********************
Shibashi ma mo matsu ya hototogi – su sen nen
how long
to wait for the cuckoo
about a thousand years
© Basho
how long
until the barren rice fields will be green
cranes fly over
© Chèvrefeuille
midsummer evening—
how long the wing of the crow
how brief the wrensong
© Mark M. Redfearn
(haiku)
(c) Tournesol ’15
They arrived at the cemetery, the fourth of July, for the burial of her mother’s ashes. Such a beautiful sunny day and the evergreens mixed with willows made for an appropriate setting. She brought the roses to represent her sister and her, her two children and her nephew and the three grandchildren…adding one red rose for her mother’s husband. A brief prayer was read and they each sprinkled ashes over the urn, “Love you Mom.”
willows weep
breeze kiss her tears
waving adieu
(c) Tournesol ’15
Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai Prompt: “tears falling”
Grief followed her like a doting puppy; days, weeks, months of moments tears just soaked her face; never a moment’s notice, tears of grief are spontaneous and sneaky. She knew this; expected this and accepted the sudden burst of tears.
Last week, marked a milestone in her career and colleagues and friends were most generous with comments and well wishes. At the end of her shift in the late evening, a colleague working the night shift rushed to her to deliver a beautiful bouquet of fresh cut flowers.
sudden burst
heart bathed in pure love
tears of joy
(c) Tournesol ’15
a single rose
rests on her gravestone
thorn in my heart
No more roses will be bought for her birthday …It was always roses that stirred her memory…her sense of smell awakened by the fragrance every time. But in a few days Mother’s ashes will finally be laid to rest next to her husband…the true love of her life.,, looking forward to this reunion.
rose by his side
no thorns can keep them apart
together at last
© Tournesol ’15
sur sa pierre tombale
verse des larmes pour son père
le corbeau muet
vent doux souffle
écoute ces paroles d’un être cher
le silence cri
© Tournesol `15
June 22nd, first day of summer, the day after summer solstice, she sets out to the rapids. Today is a tribute to her departed mother who was born on this day in 1926. She will also cleanse her feet in the waters of the rapids of la rivièvre Richelieu marking her mother’s first anniversary in her eternal resting place…christening this new beginning.
Waves roll with force
declare birth of an angel
in heaven
She sits on one of the rocks by the rapids, allowing the waves to splash and wet her feet and then she dunks them in the busy rumbling water marking a new tradition en homage pour Colombe, sa mère.
Ripples tickle
feet float on rapid currents
birthday giggles
© Tournesol ’15
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
The Poet Reclining by Marc Chagall
I find this interesting to have this prompt this week, seeing as Marc Chagall was born in 1887 in Russia. He moved to Paris in 1910. However, I just finished reading Please Say Kaddish For Me by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, the author also of Friday Fictionneers. This novel takes place in Russia from 1899. I can only imagine how Chagall may have struggled with all the mayhem going on in his Mother Russia during that period. To read more on Chagall’s cubism art read here.
grief-stricken
dreams of what was once home
haven no more
haven no more
still, trees shudder such malice
wars destroy
© Tournesol ’15
MindLoveMiserysMenagerie – Heeding Haiku with HA
Tournesol dans un Jardin 