river critters (Carpe Diem Tackle it Tuesday)

I used to love spending time at my GrandMaman’s house who lived by the river. I would spend mornings and afternoons on the dock, lying on my tummy watching the minnows swirling in circles and catfish jumping up now and then. I could never eat a catfish because they were like friends…pets to me. And the minnows would tickle my hand in the water and my ankles if I dared put my feet in the water. I say dare, because we were not allowed to venture in the water without an adult. I don’t ever remember disobeying that rule either. When I think of the freedom we had then that most children do not have today, I was pretty lucky to spend all that time alone with these little critters.

lying on the dock

absorbed by swirling minnows

catfish splashes

Submitted for Tackle it Tuesday “Regularity”

Posted by Cheryl-Lynn Roberts, `14/08/17

Visit my haiku poetry at Tournesol dans un jardin

Growing up (haibun)

From my Tournesol dans un jardin blog

Our host at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai has given us the Prompt “wings” and gave us a few quotes from Khalil Gibran in Sand and Foam. However, when I think of wings there are several meanings that come to mind. This morning I saw a haiku by MarkM Redfearn for this prompt. I did not know it was an offering to this prompt at the time, but his haiku inspired me to write something about children, war and wings at “Do not weep for me” But after reading several times our host’s prompt I am reminded of two situations.

I like how our host describes how amazing it would be to fly and visit the world, look down at our planet from above. That would be so cool! As children we believe that some humans can actually fly. My son certainly did believe in Superman when he was only two and a half. I was almost nine months pregnant with his little sister and I had gone into the house for a moment to check something on the stove. We lived in the country and my son had been playing in the sandbox when I had gone in. When I came out to join him in the backyard, my neighbor came rushing to me out of breath. My son had climbed the metal tower for the television antennae and was on the roof of my neighbour’s house. He was singing the intro song of the show “Superman”. I called up to him and told him to wait for mommy to join him, but my tummy was too big to manage the climb. Another neighbour’s teenager went up for me. My son believed he could fly…Dear Lord, I was so grateful he had not jumped!

it’s a bird

it’s a plane

it’s superman

So when we talk about flying, that story always comes to mind.

My mother and I are very very close. Growing up I always felt connected and even after I married (still young at 19) that bond was still very strong. In fact, I remember at 22, we had moved about a thirty minute drive from her and I experienced separation anxiety for a year. Well, not like a child, but I had developed pain in my shoulder for a long time and a rheumatologist had told me to figure out what had changed in my life in the past few months and that that was the root of my pain. I was quite insulted of his insinuation that it was psychosomatic but he was right. The pain went away on its own several months later.

Growing up as a teenager, I had never really rebelled or given my mother a difficult time like many teenagers naturally do. My parents had divorced when I was a teen and I felt even closer to my mother, wanting to protect her and take care of her. It was when my own marriage ended, 24 years later, I moved 6 hours away from home to start a new life and a new career. That was the first time I had actually cut the umbilical cord…really! Indeed, at 40 something, I was finally spreading my own wings and becoming an independent woman. I was definitely a late bloomer but better late than never, right? I could not help but choose a photo of a dove to represent my moving on with my life. In this case we are talking about separating from my mother, Colombe (which means dove)

Dove Flying in Sky

growing pains

sever symbiosis

spread your wings

Submittted for: Carpe Diem#540, Wings

Posted by Cheryl-Lynn Roberts, 2014/08/16

Paradise (haibun) at Tournesol dans un jardin

Click here to read my haibun on Paradise at Tournesol dans un jardin

Winter Shelters (haibun)

Today the prompt is “forest” at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. Here is a beautiful haiku by our host of Carpe Diem:

listen to the wind
that moves through the forests –
buzzing mosquitos

(c) Olivier Gagnon - Rougemont, Québec '14 — (c) Olivier Gagnon – Rougemont, Québec ’14

I was trying to remember times I was deep in a forest besides camping. Then I recalled times when I used to cross country ski in the mountains…not huge ones, mind you…more hills…Mount St Bruno was such a lovely place to hike, snow shoe and ski. It has alpine skiing too even if it is a tiny mountain; it is lit up atnight and only 15 minutes from downtown Montreal. So that`s pretty cool.

My favourite place to cross country was in Rougemont, where my son actually lives now. You go up up up for a long time. But you do get in the forest quick enough and can shed a few layers of sweaters under that winter wind breaker. It is a great place to just sit and admire the scenery. And once you get high enough, then you go down down down for a long time…lt is not too steep so the descent is really lovely.

Cross country
against strong winds
forest shelters

(c) Tournesol ’14-08-08

Dynastie des grand-mères (haibun) (CP #534 Ancestors)

The prompt today is Ancestors at Carpe Diem and again Chèvrefeuille quotes a passage from Sand and Fom by Khalil Gibran.

{…} “Remembrance is a form of meeting”. {…}

Chèvrefeuille goes on to say that ancestors are a part of us. They are in our genes and will always be with us. They are in our mind and heart. They are part of us.

at the jumble sale
the photo of someone’s grandma,
she smiles at me

Dynastie des grand-mères

Absolute Arts

Ten years ago between Christmas and New Year’s my dad was rushed to the hospital for the last time. He had been sick for over two years. Having him phone me multiple times past midnight with belaboured breath was a common occurrence but as soon as I would drive up to his apartment forty minutes later, he would be sitting at his desk, heaving, yet, pleading that I not call 911. I had called once and they came for several minutes, saw my father’s pleading face with tears, so scared they would take him away . then they explained to me he was lucid and they had to respect his wishes.

That night Christmas week, he fell on the floor, unconscious and a neighbour called 911. It was only a few days before he was in a coma and my daughter announced she was expecting a baby. I knew…felt in my heart, she was carrying a boy. My father did January 3rd, 2004.

My daughter was living with me at the time in Toronto and she invited me to her monthly appointment to see her gynecologist. I was so excited, walking in with her to Women’s College Hospital, a ten minute walk to our respective jobs. {yes, I was lucky that she even worked downtown next to my work!}

The doctor put the monitor on her belly and we could hear a loud quick heartbeat. My whole being tingled and I wept with joy, at my grandchild’s heart beating. Later she gave me a snapshot of the ultrasound and it is the first photo in the baby album…well, after I had kept it on my fridge door for months, that is! Nanas have more brag rights than mothers and fathers.

His Tiny-Ness swimming,
in my daughter’s womb/
felt Dad beam

For those who have read earlier stories of my grandmother, know that she was a midwife and I was born in her house/bed. Lucky me! She was the same age I was when my daughter gave birth to my grandson. I was her labour coach…I felt GrandMaman’s presence so much with me during her long hours of labour.

Being with my daughter, I was filled with so many images, memories and visions of the past. It was like a book where one chapter is the present, the next chapter rewinds back to the past and the next chapter resumes to the present. It was such a powerful experience so difficult to express. For years when describing the birth of my grandson, I never had a chance to describe much before I would break down crying. It has been a few years now that I can manage to hold my own… well better.

If I were an artist I would have painted a portrait of a woman giving birth with shadows forward of another mother giving birth…I sketched it once but I am SO not an artist.

I kept shifting in time, from the birth of my daughter and son…the newness of giving birth to my son, the fear and worry; the anticipation of being induced with my daughter and wondering if I was having another son or a daughter . {No, I never wanted to know…I felt the curiosity may give me more incentive to push with more drive. The first thing I noticed alone with my baby girl, stripping off her nightie, diapers and tiny socks…examining every centimetre and thinking, “She will go through this same labour mixed with joy someday too.”

My grandmother was the same age I was when I became a grandmother; after her long illness of dementia and her death, I had not felt close to her; I missed her and somehow, I felt much closer to her since my grandson`s birth…closer than I had ever felt since her death

presence felt
she gave me a grandson/
GrandMaman.

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!

Youth Dew Estee Lauder

lips tattoo my cheeks

softness of her creamed hands,

Youth Dew idles

Submitted for: Carpe Diem Ghost Writer 20 The Scent of Poetry

Same post can be found at Blogspot – Tournesol dans un jardin

just in time (haibun) CarpeDiem #532 Movement

Khalil Gibran wrote, “We measure time according to the movement of countless suns; and they measure time by little machines in their little pockets. Now tell me how could we ever meet at the same place at the same time?”

changing tides
my restlessness has gone
time is at my side
© Chèvrefeuille

How true! We seem to always be focused on time. How fast we can get this done and that completed. When I am writing, I don’t measure my time but I do see that a whole day sometimes has passed me by on my day off. So what? I enjoyed myself; I was able to create and be inspired by my muse. And all this is free and it is not even fattening! I have earned my time to just be and if writing is one of those moments of `being`, so be it!

Years ago, I used to be a personal support worker in homecare. My favourite days were bath days and individuals would humbly allow me to help them with their personal hygiene. I would take my time…up to an hour many times. I felt privileged to be welcomed in their homes like that. I am pretty sure that today, thirty years later, this “time” is considered a rare luxury…sadly so.

I stopped wearing a watch when I had the children and was a stay at home mom for five years. I didn’t need a clock or a watch. Babies and children can easily determine their needs without a clock and so that is how life was then.

internal clocks pulse
mother nurses, cleans, comforts
infant cries
© Tournesol ‘14/08/03

I remember when I first started working as a youth counsellor at our help line, I used to feel uneasy for talking a bit longer than some of my colleagues. Finally after three years, I had this amazing clinical supervisor who had watched me, observed my style and told me it was just the way I was. That was how I was able to engage with youths before they felt comfortable to disclose. When youth asks me if they are taking up too much time and feel they should let go, I tell them, “This call ends when you are finished sharing what you need to get off your chest, and we can find some options to help you through this.”

Sometimes we may be short-staffed due to illness and colleagues may worry seeing there are other callers waiting in the queue. I don’t look at that…I refuse to for I cannot be present with a youth if I my mind is wandering about caller number 2 or 3. I can ONLY take one call at a time and be with that person in a meaningful way.

just ended a call,
sun sets below the skyline
dinnertime.
© Tournesol ‘14/08/03

Submitted for CarpeDiem # 532 Movement

Departed soul (haibun) In memory of Bruno

© clr A true Rock Star, he will be missed

Yesterday marked one week that a friend and colleague died, Sunday morning, July 20th. I wrote a series of haiku/senryû, last week with the vivid image of Bruno when I last saw him mid May of this year. He had been battling pancreatic cancer for well over a year at that time and still accepted that I visit him and he posed for a book that was being compiled to give to another colleague who is battling breast cancer. Bruno believed in thinking positive at ALL times. He believed in the fight and never gave up, nor did he stop encouraging our friend who is still under treatment and we KNOW she will rise above this insidious disease. She is the loving and most generous person (much like Bruno) who phoned me to give me the sad news that our friend had passed. I feel so blessed to have heard from you, Leslie, you have no idea how much it meant to me.

Here is the series I wrote the day I learned of his passing…

Care Bear Hugs

I’ll miss that smile
soothing presence like balm
Care Bear hugs.
*
those innuendos
making me feel young and sexy
twinkle in your ~~{lie}~~ eye
*
they’ll all split their wings
you’ll have them laughing so hard
angels in heaven

originally posted: Care Bear Hugs

Today it is raining. It is grey and my mood is morose. I called in sick today as my body would not respond and seemed to be listening to my soul…I feel as if I am 99 today…a time to rest. In the shower I weep tears of grief and let the water wash them away. I have written in another post how I asked, “Why not take me? I am older, my family is raised, even my grandson is older than Bruno’s son. Why not take me?” The world is a mystery and the Great Spirit acts in mysterious ways. What do I know? Who am I in this vast sea of souls? But I do know that Bruno was a mind, heart, soul and body of pure essence filled with compassion and love. Anyone who has had the chance to meet him even if briefly, is blessed having been touched by an angel.

Reading Bruno’s orbituary in the Montreal Gazette, minutes ago, here at Second Cup, I am sad and yet could not help but smile when I read that his blood type was B Positive! Of course, what else could it have been? This reading along with Chèvrefeuille’s prompt on writing with the theme “A departed Soul”, has stirred up the following lines…

Departed Soul

dawn smiled
clouds made way
an angel
*
an angel
soars over sad hearts
begging for smiles
*
begging for smiles
his loud roar thundered
B positive
*
B positive
his lifetime message
gift

–

Sunset pause (haibun)

After enjoying a nice vegan dinner with my colleague the other night, I noticed the pink sky at the end of our street on our way back to work. I checked the time, and I had 8 minutes left before I had to get back to work on the phone lines. So I rushed up the elevator to the ninth floor, wobbled up the 20 steps that lead to the rooftop and witnessed another amazing concert of pastels shimmering in the sky.

I sat in awe silently for a moment. I knew I would not capture this perfection with my camera. And then I started playing with the settings. I tried “sunset” first, then “beauty” and lastly just natural setting…zooming now and then until I saw a plan to my right flying quickly just above the sun setting. I clicked a few times to capture this because usually planes come out fuzzy but not this time. I was quite pleased.

I had three minutes left and knew I had to run down to get to work on time and missed that last dip below the skyline…where you no longer see any sign of the sun. Then for another five to ten minutes the changing of colours, shades getting darker and more stunning. Oh, well, another time…in a few weeks time, my dinner break will coincide with a complete sunset…yes, the days will be shortening more and more…do not want to think of that yet.

(c) clr - Tournesol'14 — (c) clr – Tournesol’14

day`s end

watercolours brush the sky

with bated breath

day`s end

plane crosses shimmering sky

sun bows

daylight ends

sun dips beneath the skyline

back to work.

Summer Delights (haibun)

Since I have chosen un nom de plume for my blogspot which will hold only short form poetry, I am thinking it would be a good idea to sign my short forms here as well with Tournesol. So here goes my first summer series of thoughts when I had so much time to scribble in my notebook being, still, SANS internet. It is not so bad actually. I write, sneak peek on my phone for prompts and write offline. But I do miss reading my friends who write so beautifully and inspire me.But for summer, it is not a bad idea…it gives me time to savour summer…sit in a park and just soak up the entire moment, trees, flowers, children playing, lovers sitting side by side with glazed eyes…

summer love
painfully overrated
September blues.

summer’s breeze
forsake unrequited love
nakedness sighs

I do miss walking along an ocean beach. We are only a six-hour drive from Old Orchard, Maine and lately I have been reminiscing about times I went camping there as a teenager with my parents. I also enjoyed vacations as an adult with my husband in Prince Edward Island at Twin Shores…it felt like we owned the beach it was so secluded and quiet. I enjoyed lobsters camping and come to think of it, I have never eaten lobster in a restaurant…only camping.

ocean salt air
savouring lobster tails
melted butter dips

low tide at twilight
moon beams guide the way
skinny dipping

A few nights ago, I was surprised to hear the crickets calling since I don’t live in the country and it was near the bus terminal but I suppose they had to warn us of the hot muggy night we were having. Thank you very much, crickets, my body felt it just fine!

But it did remind me of times sitting out on our porch at our first home, the children in bed surrounded by three mountains (not huge ones, mind you, but still…)

crickets’ night concert
fanning on moonlit porch
hum the blues

Last week I enjoyed my first campfire in a long time. I usually sit out at my cousin`s backyard summers when I visit his family in Oakville. So it was a lovely treat to sit outside with my son and his two dogs, Heidi is a German Shepherd and Maya is a Golden…both are adorable. I’ve posted them in the past when pet sitting.

backyard fire
bowing to a busy day
toasting marshmallows

Now a wood`s party is something I never really experienced but I know that many teenagers do…

(c) Clr - Tournesol — (c) Clr – Tournesol ’14

wood’s bonfire
strumming a guitar
smoking weed

night extends
shrill of harmonica
honky-tonk blues

croon sleepily
red embers smother
German Shepherd snores.

What a treat to be sipping my cappucinno with WiFi and blogging.

lying on the dock

absorbed by swirling minnows

catfish splashes

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growing pains

sever symbiosis

spread your wings

Submittted for: Carpe Diem#540, Wings

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Departed Soul

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