Poetry ~ Waka
© Tournesol ’14
Ten days passed since I had been to work, and since I had marched on that footpath…my shortcut to work. Today I walked through the bush on this cold sunny day, slipping on the icy patches mourning the dormant shrubs…all I could see now, were patches of brown leaves and branches hugging the snow surface. I did not take a photo of this new image. No, looking around at the huge change, I needed to mourn the life trampled on by heavy wet snow. Tomorrow will be another day…then, and only then, perhaps shall I photograph this newly treacherous footpath.
© Tournesol ’14
Our prompt today at Carpe Diem is Road Side Beggar (a haiku by Nana Fredua-Agyeman)
looking at the sun
for a silver coin –
roadside beggar
© Nana Fredua-Agyeman
our host has written keeping in the tone of Nana…
in front of the church
a beggar sleeps in his paper-box –
empty bottle of wine
© Chèvrefeuille
Here is my attempt thinking of our homeless people braving the cold on the streets of Montréal.
(c) Tournesol ’14
When I was very young before I even went to school, I remember making a space in my bed for my guardian angel. I just believed there was someone special because my mother told me so. Those were years when it was quite turbulent at home with my father when he was inebriated. I believe moving over in bed to keep that space available for my angel made me feel safe.
When I was six my GrandPapa died. I have spoken many times about my maternal grandfather. I was living with him the year he was dying. After he died, I never made room in my bed for my guardian angel for I always believed GrandPapa was always with me. I would cram for exams at the last minute too many times and just before the test, I would ask my grandfather to help me remember the answers. All through elementary school, I would close my eyes at difficult questions and see the spot on the page in my science , history or geography book…I believed GrandPapa sent me cheat sheets because so many times I did not study enough in those earlier years.
When there was thunder and lightening, I was always very scared. GrandMaman would be so calm and look out the window at the lightening. She would comfort me by telling me that GrandPapa was bowling up in heaven and that was the sound of the thunder. He was playing for money, she said, which he would send her. Perhaps she was trying to explain that her widow’s pension came from him.
I have a fan club up in heaven now, with many other relatives. But I always feel my grandfather is looking out for me and still pray or chant visualizing the face of my grandfather.
child in the night
felt a nudge and made room,
guardian angel
snow kissed cheek
wind whispers his presence
guardian angel
message from heaven
first snow covers the ground
guardian angel
© Tournesol ’14
My childhood friend used to collect her eggshells starting in March up to May. She would crunch them into tiny pieces and put them in her flower beds to prevent snails from crawling in her garden. If they crawled too quickly (I doubt there’s a chance of that) or not cautiously, the eggshells would cut them. Ouch!! Poor little critters. Before you start feeling all sad about this, I just discovered they enjoy eating the eggshells, it is filled with calcium just perfect for their shells, like the photo above. I wonder if my friend knew that part.
crawling gingerly
eggshells in flower beds
snail’s obstacle course
gourmet nutrient
eggshells in flower pot
snail munchies
© Tournesol ’14/11/13
Years ago I was a teacher’s assistant for a university course. It was a six credit, 2 semester course and one of the most challenging courses that was also a pre-requisite to stay in the programme. It was not difficult due to the academia and theories…the self-discovery and soul searching were the toughest challenges. I really enjoyed working with this professor. He had such a rich experience, having completed two masters in Thailand where he met his wife. He asked each student to purchase 3 balls. At the beginning of each class we spent ten minutes “trying” to juggle while the professor and I were taking attendance. I had to juggle too and times I missed it at school, I tried it at home. After Christmas, we were getting better and now we had to pair up with another person to juggle in pairs. The purpose of the exercise, which he told us only on the last day of classes, was to try something different, to excel outside our comfort level, to be able to laugh at ourselves, make mistakes and see that it will not destroy us. Lots of things we learned and more.
Juggling with too many things in life is another expression we use when referring to juggling. Doing too many things at the same time; unorganized, some will say if we juggle too many things. Interestingly in the true skill of juggling, you must be organized otherwise the items you juggle will fall. You have to keep your eyes open, move up to a rhythm to increase speed all by paying close attention to the task at hand. So, actually, when we say you are juggling too many things at the same time, I find we really mean you took on too much…took on more than what we bargained for, etc.
My haiku starts out thinking of my juggling experience and then I added a few thinking of my grandmother, my mother, my daughter and myself…in life in general…raising a family, working, caring for family, sports, volunteering, car pooling, studying and the list goes on. Thank goodness I did not raise my family during the age of the internet…I would have never gotten anything done…(chuckles) I would have added writing and writing poetry.
The photo below shows a street performer at Montreal’s Old Port specially at Place Jacques Cartier where cobblestone streets are lined with shops, terraces, cafés and restaurants. It is a huge tourist attraction spring, summer and fall.
Place Jacques Cartier
street juggler defying
gravity
one two three four
starts the balls rolling…five, six
dazzling boys and girls
single parents
challenging deadlines
juggling day to day
one two three four
begins the week, five, six
call a friend
juggling in pairs
team work achieves so much more
that’s what friends are for.
© Tournesol ’14/11/13
I came across this cute video and since I love Pharrell Williams…well, it makes me “happy” to share this (grins) Now tell me you were NOT tapping your foot, bobbing your head and swaying those hips after hearing this and I won’t believe you:)
autumn gusts
shudder ripples
on the river
~
rafales d’automne
frémissent des risées
sur le fleuve
seasonal rains
turn muddy paths into
frozen puddles
~
heading home last night
my cane slips on a patch,
leaves had turned to mulch
© Tournesol ’14
Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #33, Richard Wright on Autumn by Jen of Blog It Or Lose It
© Tournesol ’14
To follow the mood of this prompt at Carpe Diem, our host has discussed the symbiosis of the birch tree and the mistletoe. Of course when one thinks of mistletoe, we are reminded of kissing during the Christmas holidays.
dew fresh mistletoe
her sweet scent warms my heart
my first kiss
© Chèvrefeuille
Here is my attempt of joining 2 separate things that form a synergy of sorts.
© Tournesol ‘14
In another slant thinking of emotional symbiosis, the mother and child attachment… the symbiotic connection.
*******
© Tournesol ‘14
With snow-filled sidewalks, I’m forced to walk home on the street. Snow plows were only clearing main arteries and our bus skidded a few times across le Pont Champlain. Challenging snow drifts made me only appreciate more, the crunch crunch underfoot upon virgin snow.
© Tournesol ’14
Tournesol dans un Jardin 
