Peace of mind (haibun)

She sat by the shore watching the sailboats and listening to the sounds of nature. So many decisions to make and each impacted on people she loved. Her mind echoed should and should not`s so loud that she finally took a few deep breaths and slowly turned to her breath. She closed her eyes in quiet contemplation and mediated soaking up the warmth of the morning sun. Feeling calmer, she looks out at the ducks and swans and nature provided her with an answer.

Lake Ontario, Oakville, On.
© Clr – Lake Ontario, Oakville, On.

white swan
opening its wings in flight
seeking solace

© Tournesol ’16/03/26

She hated goodbyes (Flash Fiction – haibun)

Submitted for: Flash Fiction Prompt – July 18, 2014-GoodBye

Revised March 18, 2016 to 99 words, no more, no less as inspired by

Charli Mills at The Carrot Ranch

© clr 2014
© clr 2014

 

 

She entered the coffee shop across from Concordia University. They met here the first time five years ago. Some lectures pushed her buttons. Many fled to Psychology hoping “book smart” would make better therapists, muttering, “Enough of this learning by doing crap!”
“Work out your own shit”, most of her professors said, “Be aware of your red flags! You could do more harm than good.” The same group of mature students met here after each class. Together they formed a community of resources, compassion and knowledge.

she dreaded endings,
late arrival was more her style
…just couldn’t say goodbye.

© Cheryl-Lynn (Tournesol) 2016/03/18

99 words

Indian Summer (haibun)

©Clr`15/12/08

Fallen leaves carpet grounds in ambers, except for those that hold on limbs for dear life. Parks are barren, missing squeals of youths and laughter among families. Park benches are abandoned by lovers, both young and old. Autumn’s melancholy mushrooms over time as winds blow mockingly. Suddenly, temperatures rise to unseasonal heights with warmer days, oh! so short-lived, teasing all things living.

Indian Summer squats
basking under sun kissed skies
Mother Nature lies.

© Tournesol’15/12/08

Six Sentence Stories “lie”

Six Sentence Stories at Unchartedblogdotorg

&

Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

dancing in the wind (haibun)

© dverse Poets Pub,View of the church of Saint Paul de Mausole 1889 – private collection of Elizabeth Taylor

The sun is smiling today.  There is still an extra hour of bright colours before I am forced to retire to the  gloom of old church dorms.   I must hurry  and not waste time in the narrows of my mind!   It is time to capture what my heart might see some day…again.   Oh to have lived among the life of such hints, once sparked my life.

The sky is bursting with bright aqua and the sun is so bright it  dominates the clouds.  Billows smile in her golden glow. Oh how I would love to be there some day and run through the fields with my lover.  Hand in hand skipping like youngsters again. Oh, to be young again and soulfully alive.

It is a good harvest,  I overheard a farmer say to the cook last week. And yes, I can see the wealth of wheat so much prettier in the fields;  blow, blow wind!  Run while you still can until we meet again in the grey pit of my breakfast bowl  where only milk and brown sugar will turn you into a shade of mud.

feel nature’s pulse
golden wheat waltz
lilt of the wind

© Tournesol ’15

Dverse Poets – Monday Haibun

November Haibun #3

THE WALTZING WIND – Michiel Merkies – Piano Solos volume 1

day’s end (haibun – haiga)

It’s not even three  in the afternoon and already the day is ready to close right before my eyes. Sadly, I watch the clouds get darker from my window.  Even the cars passing by on the boulevard are louder. I hear a humming that was not there in the summer.  I just realized this a few days ago, it is the winter tires that make the traffic sound louder and soon I will be hearing the studded tires crackling along on the pavement too.

As the season gets darker, bleaker, barren and colourless perhaps the sounds seem more acute as well notwithstanding those studded tires of course.

dayling slowly sinks

humming lullabies
daylight slowly sinks –
sleep well

© Tournesol ’15

They spread their leaves (haibun)

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity. Kahlil Gibran

https://frandi.wordpress.com/lebanese-family-tree-photos/ Sketch by Kahlil Gibran

In her youth she had  many plants in her home.  Begonias, African violets, dieffenbachias, spider plants, cactus and ivies. Oh! how she loved them!  Those years trying to have children, she treated each one like her baby.  Each plant had different needs… watered once a week, some twice, some once a month. All had their special personality, some shied from the sun, others rose with the sun and her prayer plant that folded at night reminding her always to say her prayers before going to sleep.  Now she had her mother and this plant to remind her.

One year she adopted  a beautiful fern that she kept in her bedroom where it was cooler and visitors might not rub on it.   And then, she had babies which took up all her attention. Most of her plants left for foster homes.

Her family moved to a home in the country, where there was room to run and play and plant a huge vegetable garden.  She planted marigolds around the vegetables to protect them from unwanted visitors and petunias and begonias in the front flower bed.

That was long ago. She’s  moved since then; the children grew up and left. She and her cat look out at her humble herb garden and a mother-in-law tongue sits in the dining room. Now the plant serves her, wagging its tongue and purifies the air.

© Clr '15
© Clr ’15

flowers blossom,
spread their leaves – then,
  the sun sets

© Tournesol’15

DversePoets – Haibun Monday

little prince (haibun)

Photo Challenge #71, Habitat, July 28, 2015

– NEKNEERAJ

The little prince would wake up before the servants so he could watch the sun rise. He would run out into the field, such a little tyke of only five and sit crossed legged in the darkness and wait. The sun peeked slowly through dark clouds and he felt the ground tremble under him …a steady drumming until the sun shone on his face. He heard singing in a language he did not understand but the voices came from children he could not quite see. He imagined cherubs smiling and floating around him…he remembers Mother showing him images of these “angels”, she called them.

He would run back home and climb back into bed and pretend to be asleep when Mother came in to kiss him good morning.

“Come, child, it is time for your singing lessons.” He jumped out of bed so excited to learn more. His spirit seemed to soar when he sang. The lesson lasted three hours and for a child his age it was like an entire day. The rest of the day he went out to play in the field with the children of servants until sunset…

At that moment he would run away from the children to his special spot he usually sat early mornings and looked at the sun dip into the horizon. The trembling was not there, the singing was not either, only the faint sound of a flute that seemed to cry softly bringing tears to his eyes as Mother Nature bid him good night.

(tanka)

morning sunshine
earth shudders…`tis time
message in the glow
enchanting chorus echoes
communion of their souls

© Tournesol’15

Written for Photo Challenge at MindLovesMiseryMenagerie

Cleansing of her feet (haibun)

June 22nd, first day of summer, the day after summer solstice, she sets out to the rapids. Today is a tribute to her departed mother who was born on this day in 1926. She will also cleanse her feet in the waters of the rapids of la rivièvre Richelieu marking her mother’s first anniversary in her eternal resting place…christening this new beginning.

site of foot bath

Waves roll with force

declare birth of an angel

in heaven

 

She sits on one of the rocks by the rapids, allowing the waves to splash and wet her feet and then she dunks them in the busy rumbling water marking a new tradition en homage pour Colombe, sa mère.

washing feet 1

Ripples tickle 

feet float on rapid currents 

birthday giggles

© Tournesol ’15

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

© Basho (Clr traduit de la traduction anglaise par Jane Reichhold)

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

 &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“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

© Tournesol ’15

Carpe Diem, on the trial with Basho Encore

 

Daydream-Take: one million and two (haibun)

© Clr `15

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

© Tournesol ’15

Carpe Diem Day Dreaming