
sitting alone
echoes of laughter afar
I see darkness
sitting alone
daydream of my homerun
I smile
echoes of laughter afar
thinking of Grandpa’s riddle
I chuckle
I see darkness
eyelids getting heavy,
sitting alone
© Tournesol ’15
Poetry ~ Waka

sitting alone
echoes of laughter afar
I see darkness
sitting alone
daydream of my homerun
I smile
echoes of laughter afar
thinking of Grandpa’s riddle
I chuckle
I see darkness
eyelids getting heavy,
sitting alone
© Tournesol ’15
What a pleasant surprise to see our poet, extraordinaire, filling in for Chévrefeuille today. Paloma not only writes beautiful poems, haiku and other Japanese forms, she goes into depth with each “prompt”…she truly takes her homework seriously and I have learned so much reading her creations and the added information and lovely music videos she chooses so well and that add flavour and warmth to her posts.
For today, we return to our featured poet, Fuyuko Tomita
Sansan to/ sosogu asahi no/fuzukue ni/ nokosu mikan no/ uta zo samishiki
How lonely I would be
left behind on my desk
an unfinished poem
in the glorious morning sun
© Fuyuko Tomita
(Note that the Japanese version is in five lines – but – as she explained to Chévrefeuille in a separate post – the English version is slightly different. She is translating her poem so as to keep the spirit of the original, more so than the structure of the original.) I love that idea! Occasionally I will compose a haiku or tanka in French or in English and feel confined when following the form when the meaning can be compromised.
Here is our interim host, Paloma’s response to this prompt:
at the bird feeder
three cardinals are squabbling –
a love triangle?
the poem that nudges my ribs
is fading with the laundry
© Paloma
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I commute to and from work on public transit and most of my thinking and composing is done walking or waiting for the Métro or the bus. I have a mini notebook I can hold in the palm of my hand and I scribble haiku when I am still standing or sitting but when I am walking, the words seem to dribble even more. I try to remember when I get to work or home but most often the thought may be there but “that verse” or “ that line” is somewhere floating and I am left waiting for my muse to conspire…she comes when she IS ready…
(tanka)
shuffling home tonight
words spill recklessly
her muse takes over
she waits expectantly
just the hum of a laptop
© Tournesol ’15