Pearls of wisdom (haibun)

It was midnight when she walked home, taking the shortcut behind the counselling centre.  A  cool soft mist felt good on her face.  No moon to light up her path, she tread carefully, stumbling over tree trumps and fallen branches from the long winter that had finally passed. As she reached the street, she noticed the street lights were out and blackness shielded her way.

Suddenly, there was loud crack in the sky. She counted “One thousand and one, one thous…” the sky lit up telling her the lightening was fairly close. Grandmaman always said, “Si tu es en vélo ou tu as des semelles en caoutchouc l’éclair ne te touchera pas.”  Well, now, who could argue with Grandmaman! For once she was happy to be wearing her Hunter boots she had just purchased.  It was a frivolous expense but the money was a present for her milestone birthday.

Now the rain began to pour and she knew running would not stop her from getting soaked, so she walked at a slow pace, lifting her face to the sky letting the raindrops cleanse her weariness.

treading through darkness
allowing thoughts to simmer
draped in its safety

Faces of youths flashed in her mind,  their voices expressing their pain.  Sadness, confusion and hopelessness proclaiming their needs turning into a cacophony until all she could decipher was a steady rumble.

Another crack erupted from the sky and turned into an explosion of lights.  Just as she was entering the Métro, she sighed…who knew?

 

nature takes its course
granting ever so wisely,
what we need

Like thousands of empty shells until you find a  pearl of enlightenment, darkness can be your friend.

©Tournesol’17/03/30

one gru at a time (haibun)

Once there was a boy who walked along the beach with his grandfather.  The boy could barely match his tall grandfather’s gait  but he did not give up, jumping and skipping next to him sticking his chest out when he caught up to him.

They approached some drift wood and GrandPapa led the little one to sit by him and watch the waves forming rows and rows of petticoats. “Ah, cela me fait souvenir des bons moments quand ta mamie était toute jeune.” He sighed and appeared to be in his own world for a long time. Jonathan was only half listening to his grandfather because he often talked about times that he knew very little about.

He started fidgeting from sitting for too long and fell to his knees taking handfuls of sand and putting his ear to it as he slowly let the sand sift through his fingers. GrandPapa looked at Johnathan and started chuckling.  He asked him, why he was putting the sand to his ear like that.

His grandson looked up at his grandfather with a slight air of annoyance. « Bien voyons, GrandPapa.  J’écoute. Mon prof m’a dit que dans le sable il y a des milliers d’histoires…alors, j’écoute »

waves carry tomes
drifting  from faraway
yesteryear’s tales

©Tournesol’17/03/24

Translations:

Ah, cela me fait souvenir des bons moments quand ta mamie était toute jeune. 
Ah, that brings wonderful moments to mind when your nana was very young.

Bien voyons, GrandPapa, J’écoute. Mon prof m’a dit que dans le sable il y a des milliers d’histoires…alors, j’écoute »
Come now, Grandpa, I’m listening. My teacher told me that in the sand, there are millions of stories…so, I’m listening.” N.B. in French "histoire" means story but also history.

 

Inspired by Chèvrefeuille post at Carp Diem Haiku Kai

A waka story …once upon a time (haibun) ~ TheSecretKeeper

Once upon a time, there lived an old English professor who retired in a small cottage in a village by the Arabian Sea with his wife. With this new free time, he could now delve in his passion and became a great poet. He spent his days at the kitchen table writing smart anecdotes about this and that and everything else.

Sometimes, if he was searching for the right word, his eyes would wander out the window at the gardener, sitting among the moon flowers, hyacinth and jasmine, inhaling the delicate fragrance of her babies.  His secret love for her had never changed, even after 50 years.

Evenings, the elderly couple  liked catching the international news . Today was especially important to learn the results of the presidential election in that foreign country called U.S.A.

He stared, dumbfounded at the name of the new president elect and could not believe his ears! “The world, as we know it, with this boorish leader, Flora, will never be the same,” he whispered, “I’m afraid this man’s greed and narcissism combined, will have voters climbing the walls to escape the wrath of this man.”

scent of jasmine
away from toxic meadows
calming and healing

©Tournesol’17/03/22

Written for SecretKeeper – 5 word prompt: | CLIMB | CATCH | SMART | VOTE | POET |

cat’s eyes (troibun)

Which tree will the hummingbird choose this year, she wonders, looking out the window from her dining room. Rocking in her old maple chair, the constant groan is weighing on her eyelids. Suddenly, eyes widen as a bird sets on  her balcony.

starling sings her song
dawn of spring
cat’s eyes follow

starling sings her song
pre-season rehearsal
practice makes perfect

dawn of spring
sun melts snow
earth finally revealed

cat’s eyes follow
on the windowsill
sleepy fly stirs

©Tournesol’17/03/20

Written for:
Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserys Menagerie

A troiku is a new form of haiku created by Chèvrefeuille. To learn more how to write a troiku, click

©Clr’17