Tag: narrative

Waste not (haibun)

Reading Karuna’s post on the use of plastic straws, at Living Learning and Letting Go made me think about how I behave in regards to recycling; if I am at home I will actually put a straw in the dishwasher even though I have tons in the pantry for company especially my grandson. And yet, old habit die hard I suppose since they are plastic and not paper, my grandmother never EVER wasted anything. So some habits from way back when have not died. Now that does not mean I am a model for recycling…oh no, I am not but I do try.

Wikipedia – Drinking Straw

straws
adding to clutter
mindboggling

adding to clutter
plastic cups, stereo foam plates
fundraiser cocktail

mindboggling
non-profits host a show
Mother Nature weeps

© Tournesol ’15

We still have a long way to go. Last week we had a cocktail for a major corporate sponsor. The food was delicious but OMG, but the use of these fancy plastic miniature containers was mindboggling…at least we put them in the recycling bin…but still.

Inspired by Protecting Mother Nature from Straws

Haiku Horizons

High Tea at The Plaza (haibun)

Photo Credits: Palm Court – The Plaza

I remember accompanying my friend on a business trip to New York City in 2001. I had not been to Manhattan since I was a child. I was amazed how it had changed and it was so clean.  During the morning Jake was at his convention and we would meet later mid afternoon.   One afternoon we went to The Plaza for high tea in the Palm Court.  It was truly an experience, he said, I just had to see.  The waiters were elegantly dressed and walked like they were actually floating slightly above the floor;  there was a musician playing the violin in the middle of the court. It was quite impressive.  It was like walking into a 1950’s movie…well, for me anyway.

We sat on the elegant chairs and waited to be served.  We had arrived a bit late however and no one was in a mad rush to serve us.  I enjoyed listening to the music and observing people who seemed accustomed to this kind of attention. I wonder if my wide eyes and open mouth threw them off…the waiters, I mean.   Oh well, at $25 a person for a slice of cake and a cuppa we decided since it was  almost five o’clock, we would go up to The Rose Club for happy hour and I had the best Manhattan I had ever had.  The patrons were certainly more sociable.  And that was my experience with High Tea at The Plaza.

noble patrons
sip tea from fine china,
violin serenades

© Tournesol’15

Photo credits: The Rose Club – Plaza Hotel

sans titre (haibun)

Walking home last night at the Métro Bonaventure Station, it was later than usual. It was passed eleven for I usually see several homeless persons lying on the marble sidings soaking up their last minutes of warm slumber. Between eleven and one in the morning, I am not sure if the police alert them of the time or if they have internal clocks but it was after 23:40 and I only noticed one man sitting by the door where late commuters rush off to catch their busses off the island of Montreal.

People kept walking by and the man was not holding out his cap nor mumbling anything as is usually the case when we go by some homeless persons…he looked so tired.  I felt bad no one was stopping…true it was late and many were coming home from work…not all late evening travelers are revelers.

I sat down for a moment putting down my backpack, rummaging through the mess looking for my change purse, searching for change to give to this man. I rarely carry money but change, mind you, here in Canada means $1 and $2 coins along with the quarters, dimes and nickles…we got rid of our pennies. Good I found enough to get a coffee and soup at Tims perhaps {I must pick up some coupons from Tim Horton to have handy}.

20150115_234334_Android smiling homeless

The man looked at me and I could not see he had a smile {without my glasses} but I did take a few photos} that I had noticed only after seeing the photo.  As I walked passed him, stopped to give him my coins, he thanked me so kindly with such a nice smile…the same smile I saw later on that photo.

20150115_234334_Android en tanka faded

Such a worry for the homeless people this time of year…last night it was dipping to below 20C and it snowed all night…a nightmare for anyone stuck outside in this bitter cold for more than an hour.

20150115_234334_Android fr tanka fading

© Tournesol ’15/01/16

last year (haibun)

http://www.freewebheaders.com/wordpress/wp-
http://www.freewebheaders.com/wordpress/wp-

It’s been a challenging year personally and professionally. I can’t hide behind a cloud and pretend the New Year changed that. However a new year offers opportunities to continue processing areas that need attention somewhat like housekeeping. I need to look at what I want to keep among all the dusty clutter before I can find balance in my life. That is the longest part.

Think about when you are clearing out a closet and all the things you find at the bottom way at the back. You take out a box for example, that is covered with dust; you open it and look at the contents. It brings you back many years to a moment in time. You feel the emotions good or bad; you may weep a little, you may get angry and even kick that box around…again the feelings resurface and another layer is removed. You may feel you are done with this and  trash the box or you may dust it off, put it back securely at the back of your closet for another year or so. There is no right or wrong way…but your own way.

There are good things I want to topple over to this year. New and old friends I have encountered near and far, the relationship I have with my children and grandchildren is my duvet for the cold months and stroke of soft silk in the warmer months;  my  poetry and  the past six or seven months training in Japanese poetry at Carpe Diem with our host and mentor/master Chévrefeuille, his followers who inspire me and the amazing WP community that inspire and support me.  And my amazing  colleagues who are the strength and foundation that serve youths across this country and allow me to love my work.

like a gambling debt
stays too close for comfort
last year’s loss
~
spilling over
like turkey leftovers
last year’s grief
~
a new year
good housekeeping
feng shui
~
last year’s haiku
shadow into the new year
time to excel
~
my heart beats
to the love my children,
flame of a candle

© Tournesol ’15

Carpe Diem Kozo

train ride home (Kikobun)

 

 

© Clr è14
© Clr ’14

I had spent a very brief visit with my family in Toronto last summer after a four-day retreat.  I always look forward to the long ride returning home to Montreal. It gives me time to adjust to the change of places and reminisce of things I did, people I saw and the life I once had here.  I had time to think of my new personal mantra I was given which I could practice for over four  hours and how much a part of my heart is still in this city I once called home.

© Clr '14
© Clr ’14

 

Settling by the window, I allowed the train to rock me like a lullaby…chug chug chug…eyes focused on the city we are crossing, up above on elevated tracks…I am on top of the world and once we are further out, buildings become scarce. Kilometres of meadows, farms and the occasional crossings in smaller villages flash by…my eyes begin to feel so very heavy.  I am sitting on the opposite side I usually sit for Lake Ontario is on the other side. I will be noticing a different view on this trip.

© clr '14
© clr ’14

 

I see fields and fields of tall grass as it is time for the first harvest of hay. As we sped by I saw stacked bales of hay each farmer displaying his own mark…some tight round bales, some bales shaped like huge barrels and some square blocks. From the train they looked like mounds of hay or straw plants or shrubs.

© Clr '14
© Clr ’14

 

The loud echo of the train’s whistle at some crossings roused me and I admired the sky changing colours as the sun began to set…the man across from me gave in to the lullaby but I am still like a little child fighting sleep always, in the event I just might miss something.

20140716_024707_Android
© Clr ’14

 

rocking on steel rods
fields flashing on fast-forward
a man snores

© Tournesol ’14

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer, Hamish Gunn has asked us to write a Kikobun; this is writing about  about a journey, or part of a journey or wander. The idea of it being about wandering and observing is very relevant.

farewell my friend (haibun)

Haibun Thinking

Haibun Thinking

LITERARY QUOTE PROMPT

“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!
How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book!”
~ Jane Austen (Pride & Prejudice)

Reading a book is like meeting a new friend. Getting acquainted with their family and friends. Once immersed into a novel, I often get lost in “their world”. Such an escapism for me is rewarding and therapeutic.   It is my brief vacation in another world allowing my mind, heart and soul to detach from realities of life. Every break, every free moment, long bus and metro rides, I get to meet up with my new friend of the week.  Waiting in a line at the grocery store or department store, I pull out my book.  I forget myself so much that I chuckle out loud or weep.

If I am on the last chapter and either on the bus or at a café,  I will put the book down and wait to savour that last chapter quietly at home. I turn each page slowly, reading even slower,  because I am saying goodbye to a friend. Putting down the book, I rewind and fast forward images and memories of my friend’s story before finally saying goodbye.

lost in letters
forming new friends
enchanted am I

savouring
precious last words
the last chapter

melancholy tides,
turning the last page
whispering farewell

(c) Tournesol ’14

rainforest concerto (tanka)

 

The Time Glass  prompt today at Carpe Diem  Valley Stream, is to use the haiku composed by your host AND the photo of a waterfall.  It was tempting to complete this into a tan renga but he did mention a “solo” renga or a tanka.  I could not help but notice the waterfall was a photo in Maui, Hawaii. When I saw the last line of our host, “the silence” I thought of birds singing being masked by the sounds of gurgling streams OR the roar of the waterfalls.

I wanted to include birds from Hawaii and liked the sounds of the honeycreepers such as ‘l’iwi , hearing several examples on Youtube. I wanted to add the name of a tree that these birds inhabit and fell upon the Ohia lehua tree.  Well, that brought me to a legend and Carpe Diem is keen on legends and stories.

Legend explains the birth of the Ohia tree and its flower, the Lehua blossom. The legend is tied to the volcano goddess, Pele. This story explains that if you pluck this flower, it will rain on the same day (for a tragic reason).

The legend of the Ohia tree and the Lehua blossom

The legend says that one day Pele met a handsome warrior named Ohia and she asked him to marry her. Ohia, had already pledged his love to Lehua. Pele was furious  so she turned Ohia into a twisted tree. The gods took pity on Lehua and decided it was an injustice to have Ohia and Lehua separated. So, they turned Lehua into a flower on the Ohia tree so that the two lovers would be forever joined together. So remember, Hawaiian folklore says that if you pluck this flower you are separating the lovers, and that day it will rain.

What a beautiful legend…so romantic too!  Now to complete this prompt:

Our host wrote:

Gurgling valley stream
brings joy to the heart of Mother Nature –
Il Silenzio © Chèvrefeuille

l’iwi – wikimedia

 

Waterfalls
drown echoes of wildlife
ohia tree
‘l’iwi chirps a concert
sucking on a lehua

© Tournensol ’14

 

I’iwi honeycreeper sees off an Apapane

Hazy Day (Tanka) ~ Heeding Haiku With HA

The prompt at Heeding Haiku With HA this week is rather unique.  No guidelines on nature or emotions…This week, HA would like you to analyze everything that you can at this very moment of time and write a haiku or tanka or both to commemorate these few moments of this day of your life. Write/Right NOW!

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Here is my moment described on the

Hazy Day (Tanka)

 

My first day back at work today and the weather was still quite hot and humidity still high. Walking slowly to the Mall to renew my bus pass, I stopped by my favourite sushi bar to say hello to Angela. We’ve become friends after only two or three visits. We are quite friendly with merchants here in Quebec especially outside the city. She and I both agreed we missed Ontario. I moved to Ontario for work for thirteen years and fell in love with it. She emigrated from Japan to Ontario and also enjoyed her experience there. We both came back to be closer to our immediate family in Quebec. I can tell she is struggling adjusting and I empathized her pain. She asked me how I was when I purchased my shrimp Spring Roll and I mentioned my disgust with our health care system here compared to Ontario and she nodded in sympathy. So few words were shared and yet I felt a connection and as she wrapped my rolls with peanut sauce, I knew my lunch was somehow blessed.

Walking to the bus terminal very slowly, I noticed my bus leaving. I can’t run anymore with my bad leg, so I just took a deep breath and told myself, “Breathe, take your time, you’ll only get all hot and sweaty.”
The next bus arrived within less then ten minutes. I took a seat near a window but no air was moving. The bus filled up and finally we were moving. A faint breeze came in but nothing to write home about.
Finally we crossed the bridge and I could feel that nice cool breeze…not cold but still it was refreshing and I noticed the woman next to me closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling. I closed my eyes and let soaked up the moment for as long as it lasted…

This is how I felt a few moments after the bus pulled out on our trip to Montreal. I scribbled these in my notebook to remember that feeling.

© CLR St-Lawrence River 2014
© CLR St-Lawrence River 2014

hot sticky bus
open windows bring relief
river breeze
eyes closed I relish the moment
puffs off the St-Lawrence

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/07/02

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General guidelines:

  • English Haiku is a three-line poem structured in syllable count of 5-7-5. It visualizes an image, an expression or experience, including a season word or kigo. It is a small ode to nature.
  • English Tanka is a five-line poem structured in syllable pattern of  5-7-5-7-7. The first two lines and the last two lines picture images and the third line is a pivotal line i.e. it signifies a grammatically correct meaning and completes the image either when paired with the first two lines or when paired with the last two lines.
  • Most importantly, feel free and write, do not be burdened by the rules or guidelines. Enjoy crafting a haiku or tanka. And after when you have made the post, you can submit the links to your posts in the linking widget below at this link here at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie.

Harmony (haibun)

cool-surreal-paintings-13

Robert Dowling

She looked up at the sky and saw only grey clouds.  “Again, only grey poop on” she muttered.  That’s what she thought of those grey clouds…pooping on her life, her mood, her heart and her soul. There was no longer any light in her life.  She sighed, giving herself a bigger push to swing higher. “Maybe if I swing high enough, I’ll be able to kick one of those clouds and see rain that will wash away all the bleakness in this land.”

“Watch it, little one! You may fall and you sure as heck don’t want to fall way down there!!”squawked the black crow  above, settling on a dried up tree…no leaves, just branches..

Elaina looked up at her friend. He had become her friend in the past year.He had given her the idea to braid long strips of cotton to hang from the twig that was her only seat outside her birdcage.  She now had a swing which gave her a sense of freedom.

She had been disgusted by this huge black crow, at first when she was brought here by “him” but she realized over time, that Cornelius was a product of “his” master plan.  Anyone who defied him or tried to escape only fell into the den of désespérance or Des-Spa as Cornelius jokingly called it.  It was the bottomless pit that lay below…a sort of limbo but Elaina felt it was a hell created by “him”.

“I suppose you’re right, Cornelius, even if you are not a wise old owl,” she giggled and for a brief moment, the clouds separated and a hint of glow shone from the skies.  Whenever Elaina sang or laughed, this occurred.  But it never seemed to last more than 2 to 3 seconds.

Somehow, somewhere far above there was a positive force of goodness and beauty that was trying to communicate to Elaina. She felt it in the soles of her feet. Well, not really soles but she had been stripped of all her clothes.   She had made herself a make-shift dress from the veils that covered her cage/home and with the long strips leftover, braided it as per instructions from daring Cornelius.

“He” had stripped her of her clothes but had the decency to jail her in a veiled insulated cage she could use as bedding or blanket on cooler nights.  She didn’t mind sleeping without bedding.  She felt less trapped this way.  And Cornelius could keep her company when she was lonely and spread his wings to keep her warm on cooler nights. He always enjoyed her giggling and especially her singing in her soft soprano voice.  She sounded like an angel in a celestial choir.  Perhaps that is why the clouds separated briefly…maybe angels thought she was a lost sister.

Somehow she knew if she could sing long enough or the right harmony, the skies would be unlocked…finally breathe hope and compassion…she would just have to be patient.

The Celestial Order

patience unlocks skies

heavens unleash goodness

beauty of the soul.

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/04/01

Written for MindLoveMiserysmenagerie Photo Challenge #15 – birdhouse

Killer Tree (Friday Fictioneers June 27, 2014)

Photo Prompt:  © Madison Woods

 

Simone went berry picking with her cousin who had been after her for a week.  She finally gave in. It had been the first time in five years  she had ventured into these woods. Nicole was nattering about mon oncle Ovid and his eccentric ways. Simone half listened, dodging gnats and wishing she were home with a good book. Suddenly she heard Nicole call out to her. “Look there’s a pond here. Viens vite!” Simone got to the other side of the bushes and stopped suddenly noticing the tree by the pond, where she’d lost her son.

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/27

Written for: Friday Fictioneers June 27 2014, Photo prompt