sundown’s last act (haiku)

At Carpe Diem Tokubetsudesu #49 at the seashore (Vision Quest reprise) we are to write a series of haiku interrelated and the three prompts are:

Waves — seagulls — sundown

Having written a few posts in the past few days about the beaches of Maine, I found this easy to put myself back in time to moments like this.

mere gourmands
sift through catch of the day
against the waves

seagulls hustle
before high tide
wipe out

sated at last
mooning over royal sky,
sundown’s rest

le vent pleur (haiku)

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

birthday ritual (haiga)

Times change since her passing. On this 22nd day of June, a new birthday ritual will be practiced, today and each year thereafter…

Ripples tickle
feet float on rapid currents
birthday giggles

a place among pine trees (haibun)

The family would pile in the Chevrolet Impala and drive up the windy roads to Old Orchard, Maine. She loved camping in that pine forest despite sweeping the tent twice a day (or more!) of those dried up pine needles.

The only thing she could not do which was such a natural part of her being, was walking barefoot on that bed of pine needles. She could walk on gravel and dirt roads but never on that blanket of prickly pine needles.

Their father would leave the girls and their mother for a week while he drove up further to PA on a business trip. Those were the best of times…just the girls, relaxing. Rising only when the sun warmed the tent; toasting bread on the fire and then walking a mile down that shady road surrounded by old wooden cottages and pine trees…so many gigantic pine trees leading up to the beach where they listened to the sounds of rolling waves, seagulls and youngsters giggling…except of course for the odd melodies on their transistor radio…

Salt water beckons
scent of pine interrupted
seagulls greet

Fathers (haiga)

fathers remembered
strength of a Black Locust
unpretentiousness love

le prunier très cher/ the prized plum tree (haibun)

Credits: Japanese Plums

“Retour sur la piste de Basho Encore” qui a écrit le haïku suivant peu après la mort soudaine de son ami, Yoshitada.

furu oto ya mimi mo su-naru ume no ame

un son tombant
aigrir mes oreilles
la pluie des prunes

le prunier très cher

Mon beau-père est décédé mardi. Ce haïbun est écris dans le souvenir de monsieur Bernard. Le haïku de Matsuo Basho m’a rappelé de bon souvenirs de ce grand homme.

Je n’ai jamais vu un prunier avant celui qui était dans la cour de monsieur Bernard (grand-père de nos enfants) quand j’avais à peine seize ans et la fiancée de son fils. Je me souviens de l’arbre qui était grand et maigrichon ; nous avons ri et l’avons tous taquiné à combien d’années qu’il faudra pour enfin voir des fruits ; mais nous avions tort. En quelques années, l’arbre a fleuri et a porté ses fruits.

Il était si fier de son prunier. Cela signifiait plus qu’un arbre pour lui. Ce fut sa première nouvelle maison dont qu’il et son épouse avaient réussi à gratter et économisez pour loger leurs trois enfants adolescents. Leur fils aîné avait déjà deux petits enfants. Maintenant, ils avaient la liberté d’une grande espace verte avec une petite clairière au fond de la cour. Ils avaient lutté pendant de nombreuses années et maintenant ils avaient humble jardin, quelques arbres et une maison pour appeler «le leur». C’était une grande victoire.

douce éclat
whoosh sur les brins d’herbe
première goutte de prune

© Tournesol ‘15

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“Back on the trail of Basho Encore” who wrote the following haiku shortly after the sudden death of his friend, Yoshitada.

furu oto ya mimi mo su-naru ume no ame
a falling sound
that sours my ears
plum rain © Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)

the prized plum tree

My father-in-law and the grandfather of our children, died on Tuesday. This haibun is in memory of monsieur Bernard. Basho’s haiku reminded me of this great man.

The first plum tree I ever saw was in his back yard when I was barely sixteen, engaged to his son. I remember how tall and scrawny the tree looked and we all chuckled and teased him at how many years it would take to see any fruit but we were wrong. In just a few years, the tree blossomed and bore fruit.

He was so proud of his plum tree. It meant more than a tree to him. This was his first new house his wife and he had managed to scrape and save to own and house their three adolescent children. Their eldest son had already two small children. Now they had the freedom of a huge backyard with a wooded area beyond the property. They had struggled for many years so a humble garden, a few trees and a home to call “theirs” was a huge victory.

soft thump
swish on blades of grass
first plum drop

Carpe Diem, on the trial with Basho Encore

Daydream-Take: one million and two (haibun)

Where would she be without her daydreams? If it were not for reading and tapping on that keyboard from time to time, she might go through most of her days living in her head. Walking stirs such reveries! Driving or sitting on a bus or train opens doors to another world; watching the sun set or sitting in class to a boring lecture…lying in bed the daydreams simply roll on a neverending reel.

Reserved seating
dreams of castles in the air
eyelids screen

Carpe Diem Day Dreaming