springtime dreams ~ Daily Moments 17/03/25

Image may contain: snow, tree, sky and outdoor
©Clr`17/03/25  midnight stroll

first spring weekend
blustery winds proclaim the new
season’s grand entrance

winter hangs on tirelessly
snowflakes on my cheek

dreaming of cycling
trails along the river
snow covered bike


Image may contain: bicycle and outdoor

Daily moments springtime dreams (soliloquy no renga)

March 25, 2017

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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



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

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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 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 moonflowers, hyacinth and jasmine, inhaling the delicate fragrance of her babies.  He never tired admiring his love 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


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

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searching (troiku)

(c) Clr’16

amid the lilacs
blindly searching
her fragrance

amid the lilacs
memories stir
her gentle smile

blindly searching
under the full moon
lilt of her voice

her fragrance
from heaven


This Troiku [ a new form of haiku created by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai] was written for Haiku Horizons.

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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


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

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sparrows wait (troibun)

I think I`ll reblog this since it gives hope that spring will come…some day [sighs]

Tournesol dans un jardin

Such a lovely spring day to be in a park. An old couple sit on a park bench. The man leans on his cane, watching his life partner talk to the birds. Gnarled fingers toss seeds to the pigeons, then places a plastic bowl filled with seeds under the bench where grateful sparrows wait.

cycling by the park
boy holding tight,
kite on a string

cycling by the park
child hangs on the monkey bar
squeak of swings

boy holding tight,
hand on her swollen belly
teeter-totter moans

kite on a string
dancing on blue canvas
how the wind sings!

© Tournesol ’16-05-15

(100 words)

Written for Heeding Haiku for Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie.

We are asked to write a haibun of 100 words with the theme the circle of life.  I chose to include a troiku making my narrative and haiku a troibun.  To see what a troiku is, check…

View original post 6 more words

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humble (tanka)

in your golden rays
diamonds hang
shimmering in the rain
I bow to Mother Nature



Our host writes:
unseen flowers
between the oversized leaves –
a humble haijin

joy of writing
for all the friends of Carpe Diem –
makes me humble
© Chèvrefeuille

We are inspired by Hafiz, a Persian poet:

From the large jug, drink the wine of Unity,
So that from your heart you can wash away the futility of life’s grief.
But like this large jug, still keep the heart expansive.
Why would you want to keep the heart captive, like an unopened bottle
of wine?
With your mouth full of wine, you are selfless
And will never boast of your own abilities again.
Be like the humble stone at your feet rather than striving to be like a
Sublime cloud: the more you mix colors of deceit, the more colorless
your ragged wet coat will get.
Connect the heart to the wine, so that it has body,
Then cut off the neck of hypocrisy and piety of this new man.
Be like Hafiz: Get up and make an effort. Don’t lie around like a bum.
He who throws himself at the Beloved’s feet is like a workhorse and will
be rewarded with boundless pastures and eternal rest.

© Hafiz – From: Drunk on the Wine of the Beloved (Tr. Thomas Rain Crowe)

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Behind shallow masks(troibun) daily moments Mar.8/17

I am almost finished reading George Orwell’s 1984. Yes, it takes me a long time because I find it depressing and so I jump to The Essential Rumi now and then and Love Poems by Rumi.

I have also been watching old war movies where masses revolt in the name of solidarity and fairness. This makes me think of my encounters with workplace disputes in the past 30 years…yes, a little more than 30 but let’s leave it at that out of vanity. [snickers]

behind their masks
pretense of brotherhood
hidden agendas

behind their masks
screaming justice for all
texture of envy

pretense of brotherhood
renouncing authority
all for one, one for all

hidden agendas
lusting for power
polarity rules

Are there ever winners in workplace disputes? What does management seek? What does staff want? Are there a few isolated incidents or has it become an unhealthy workplace environment? There are never any easy answers. Each side holds his cards closely to the chest and the games ensue.

I don’t think things have changed that much since the ‘70’s. Well, yes, for women they have…indeed they certainly have even if there is still room to improve but that is life is it not?

Is it not our goal to always push ourselves to be the best person that we are? Is it not a desire to personally reach some form of clarity, enlightenment…nirvana? Well, okay, that is a bit much but older readers will certainly be bobbing their heads and agree that that is really all one can do…the best that you can. Ultimately, ask yourself, really, are you doing the best that you feel you really can? If someone would offer you a 40% increase in salary to do better, what would you change? That answer will say a lot…

©Tournesol’17/03/08 Continue reading “Behind shallow masks(troibun) daily moments Mar.8/17”

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nature’s pulse (haibun)

This morning I read this prompt hoping to have inspiration for the entire day. My intention was to write something later in the week after my work shift late in the night.  But, the words of our host, Chèvrefeuille already teased my muse that I had to write something before I left for work.

We are inspired by a beautiful poem by Rumi:

We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee;
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.
We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!
Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee?
We and our existences are really non-existence;
thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.
We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.
Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us!
Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.
© Rumi

Our host says:

[“What has this to do with the poem for today? Well … what can I say? In the peom of today Rumi is speaking about “existence” and with that came my “revalation” to tell you a little bit about existentialism, because that was the first thing I thought about. Maybe that’s just a coincedence, because I am reading Nietzsche’s “Also Sprach Zarathustra” at the moment, one of Nietzsche’s most famous works. And existence triggered me to look at existentialism …¸”

our host has written  a beautiful haiku in response to this theme:

a game of chess
played in the shadow of lion banners –
the wind unseen

© Chèvrefeuille

This reminded me when I chant in the spring, summer and autumn, I seem to see the trees, flowers and grass responding to my words as I walk.  Here is my contribution to this post:

©Clr’17 le Richelieu

nature’s pulse (haibun)

Being a water sign she has always felt closely related to the water. As a teenager, she remembers writing an essay about swimming on Lake Champlain where she spent many summers in Vermont. But this time, she did not swim across to the point of the island to rest on the floating pier. This time, she just swam until she could no longer keep her head above water and her favourite mode of swimming was under water. In her essay, she writes how she gets close to the fish, the rocks the discarded bottle at the bottom of the lake. The fish swim past her but some swim along her and she becomes one with the water. 


The naïve part of the essay was that she let herself drown. She was too young to realize that she didn’t have to drown to be part of the water and nature. She knows now when she is sailing on a catamaran, she is part of the wind with her jib, with the hull, part of the swell of the water.


Just as when she swam underwater, she is part of more than the water, even when she is sitting on a rock by the riverside she is part of the trees and the sun that dries her cheeks…


by the riverside
water splashes on her feet
minnows delight

rumble of rapids
gulls’ screaming – emotions freed
to her heartbeat
cascading with intention
spilling over dams


Carpe Diem Haiku Kai 

Daily moments – reflections of nature’s pulse, March 7 2017

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cold winds (troiku)


March winds
despite sunny skies
turn bones to ice

March winds
fast and furious
hat flies off his head

despite sunny skies
with a vengeance
winter hangs on

turn bones to ice
by a pot belly stove
hot cuppa thaws

© Tournesol’17/03/06

Daily Moments – March 6 2017 – cold winds TROIKU

Haiku Horizons “cold”

A troiku is a new form of haiku created by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

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Writing process (daily moments March 5/17)

Plus que ça change,
c’est pareille. 

Far from original and lacking imagination, she crosses off the lines and taps her pen rhythmically staring out her patio window. It was as if the bare branches of the elm tree could give her a sign or perhaps it was the buzz of the traffic that was humming her verses. Tap tap tap, she stared and yet she did not see anything outside that window. She was in her own world, the pen stopped tilting, her breathing slowed and who knows where she was. Perhaps she was in the land of Calliope and Thalia filling her mind with farfetched narratives she could later interpret with her own voice.

A car honks; her pen drops from the loud intrusion and brings her back from her brief reverie. Her mind goes back to a place she so enjoys. Feelings of boredom and helplessness feed her.. She sighs and notices her cat has awakened by her sudden movement. She stretches her paws touching her mistress’ pen. Watching it roll off the table both the cat and she just stare a moment, both too comfortable in their relaxed positions.

She chuckles at the silliness of this moment and strokes the soft, long fur of her friend; leaning to pick up her pen, she meets a flash…a fleeting thought that guides her pen back to her notebook.

“The old woman hugged her thin wool coat around her and stopped at the red light. She looked to her right and saw a little girl with blonde curly locks framing her chubby face. The little girl looked at her and smiled. Her sparkling blue eyes smiled even more. The woman was surprised since most people gave her dirty looks or pitying glances. This little girl did not seem to see her the way adults did.

The light turned green and people stepped off the sidewalk to cross and the little girl jumps onto the street squealing with delight, “We are going to see Nana! Hurry, Mummy!” She pulls on her mother’s hand with purpose.

People brush by the old woman with privileged impatience; she cannot seem to find the energy to move her legs. She stares at the little girl and her words linger bringing her back to a place she has not visited in a long time

one single tear
giggles and bubblegum
drop on her cheek”

(c) Tournesol’17-03-05

Daily Moments – Writing process – Haibun  March 5, 2017

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a rose (tanka)

Roses Underfoot

The sound of salaams rising as waves
diminish down in prayer,
hoping for some traceof the one
whose trace does not appear.

If anyone asks you to say who you are,
say without hesitation, soul
within soul within soul.

There`s a pearl diver who does not know
how to swim! No matter
Pearls are handed him on the beach.

We lovers laugh to hear, “This should be
more than and that more this,”
coming from people sitting in a wagon
tilted in a ditch.

Going in search of the heart, I found
a huge rose, and roses under all our feet!

How to say this to someone who denies it?
The robe we wear is the sky’s cloth.

Everything is soul and flowering.
© Rumi (Rumi, the Book of Love)

love dwells
even in unfertile land
a rose blooms
blossoms of the soul
always thrive


Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

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night performance (troiku – free verse)

We re inspired by a poem by Persian poet, Hafez

This poem is titled “all the hemispheres”:

Leave the familiar for a while.
Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season
Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.
Make a new watermark on your excitement
And love.

Like a blooming night flower,
Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness
And giving
Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

city sounds scream;
woman at the Métro door
chants the same dream
silent donations
the homeless and the poor
commuters pass by
robotic and bored
not even a glance
drifters and panhandlers
rarely have a chance.

days are all the same
chaotic silent hum
monotonous blends

Aw but the night changes everything! How she longs for sunsets and beyond, watching the sky change. Renoir and Degas learned from the great Master…


watercolour skies
Aditi’s brushstrokes
Vishnu’s masterpiece

watercolour skies
midnight blues
iridescent stars

Aditi’s brushstroke
gently tracing
the milky way

Vishnu’s masterpiece
twilight sonatas
wind in her hair


Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – nightflower

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disguised teacher (tanka)


Written for Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

This World Which Is Made of Our Love for Emptiness
Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
This place made from our love for that emptiness!
Yet somehow comes emptiness,
this existence goes.
Praise to that happening, over and over!
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.
Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.
The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw
blown off into emptiness.
These words I’m saying so much begin to lose meaning:
Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:
Words and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof.

© Rumi

piece of straw
blown off into emptiness
a new beginning

© Chèvrefeuille

an ant turns
on an apple core
into my teacher



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wastelands (troiku)

monsoon season
floods threaten farmlands
birth of a wasteland

monsoon season
the earth

floods threaten farmlands
yet, sometimes
nature’s just bluffing

birth of a wasteland
death of a nation

(c) Tournesol’17/02/27

Haiku Horizons: waste

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Daily Moments Feb 27/17 – Monsters in her closet – haibun

Having had a frightful night last night,  filled with terror in her dreams, tonight she decided she would add an insurance.  She told herself, “Well, since Mother is not here to shoo away the monsters out of my closet, I have no choice, now do I?”  And she brought her down filled duvet and set it on her comfy couch. “No way will those evil spirits roam in the living room!”

searching for shelter
in her dreams

(C) Tournesol’17/02/27
Daily Moments – monsters in her closet – haibun


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Blossoms on the bay (troiku)

doubt it not:
the blossoms of the tide also show
spring upon this bay

© Basho (Tr. Barnhill)

Oh the giddiness!
ruffles and crinolines
frilly waves

Oh the giddiness
rolling over laughing
foaming at the mouth

Ruffles and crinolines
rising and falling like –
can can dancers

Frilly waves
memories of yesteryear
our innocence

(c) Tournesol ’17/02/27

Written for: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ca/2017/02/carpe-diem-1162-ueno-iga-province.html


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Daily moments – tower of Babel – haiku – Feb 26 2017


How would the world be different if we all spoke the same language?  Would we listen to each other?  Is language really an issue?  Or is the apathy of too many people in the Western world that is perpetuated by the illusion of being too far removed geographically?  We don’t even understand each other on this side of the globe?  Heck, in North America we are strangers to each other if we have not traveled a little and even travelling only gives you a hint of what is going on in different states or provinces in North America.

Visiting Toronto, New York City or San Francisco for instance, is not the same as living there.  People give their perception on life in these mega cities.  Some even argue with me about what life is like in Toronto. [I am chuckling at that because I lived there for thirteen years. Heck!  What do I know, right?]  That said, even while living in Ontario, I was surprised to hear what people “thought” they knew about Québec.

I wonder what children are learning in history classes across the country.  My manager told me the other day that a friend of his in Nova Scotia said, John Cabot discovered Canada…really?  Um, I thought he discovered Newfoundland and Samuel Champlain discovered Québec.     I always learned in history that Canada was discovered by  Jacques Cartier, and he gave it the Huron-Iroquois name, “kanata” which means settlement.

I think this blogger explains misinformation so much better than me:

“Politics is bigger than us all, we can do nothing about it, it is a filthy game of interests and calculations. But life is ours, stories are ours, it is within our reach to empower others, it is within our reach to inform others about a reality of a whole country torn by war but still doing the impossible to celebrate life. It is within our reach to bridge the gaps between each other and get over political, social, religious and ethnic differences just for the sake of the one and only, for the sake of Syria.

People form their opinions and absorbs stereotypes based on what they receive on media; we have no right to complain about how that media works unless we offer an alternative.” Source: http://jamilaeyes.com/

So I suppose I have answered my question about language not being the real issue.  The news reported by mainstream media in US and Canada is too often questionable. [I am only mentioning North American because this is where I live.]  Yet, in this age of technology, there is no reason not to be curious enough and see what is being said in other parts of the world by people who are living and breathing their own realities and not just take for granted that we, foreigners, reporting in other countries may not have all the information. Sometimes we just don’t ask the right questions or is it that we choose which questions to ask to get answers we want to believe?”

nature’s jest
clear waters always flow
in babbling brooks


Even after reading a few articles on the same subject to see if I can sift through what is truth and what is not, I still know little.  But, I refuse to believe mainstream media at face value anymore…just tired of it.  Thankfully,  blogging has gotten me closer to the other side of the globe and we also share the love of poetry and storytelling.

How I choose to learn more now is by listening to people telling their stories in their own words.

Daily moments – tower of Babel – haiku – Feb 26 2017

This was written for Linda G. Hill on her Friday reminder for SoCS.

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Mother Nature teases (haibun)

View from rooftop of Mount Royal
©Clr’17 View from rooftop of Mount Royal

She remembers sitting on the rooftop, admiring sunsets, late spring to autumn. As the temperature rises this week in our last week of February, Mother nature seems to be teasing les Québecois. She doesn’t put it passed a few restaurateurs who may set some chairs on their terraces this weekend so patrons can sip their café au lait or pint of beer inhaling the fresh air.

spring pokes its head
showers clear winter’s debris
snowbanks shrivel


Daily Moments – Mother Nature teases – February 24, 2017

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beginnings (haibun) – dVerse – Poets Pub – Monday Haibun

Staring at the title of her story, she smiles. Her mind drifts back in time and she relishes in the treasures of precious moments … priceless moments. The image of her six year self comes into focus as she tiptoes to his bedroom watching those adults kneeling around his bed…her mother, uncles, aunties and GrandMaman…whispering “Je vous salue, Marie” between choked sobs. He sees her in the doorway and smiles with his blue liquid eyes before the adults shoo her away. His smile embedded in her memory forever, seeing death as another beginning…how could it not be with that smile minutes before his last breath?

Her mind fast forwards to that time asking the chemist to write down on her receipt the results of her test…after years trying, the word had a lyrical sound to it, “positive”. Her mind hangs around that time in her life and she plays out those months in slow motion…”Oh my,” she thinks to herself, “The best things in life are really free!”

swelling belly
butterfly tickles
embracing life


dVerse Poets Pub – The Best Things in Lie are Free – Haibun

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communion (haiku)


In regard to the poem, called “Oh, Morning Glory!”, Hirshfield quotes D. T. Suzuki:

“The idea is this: One summer morning Chiyo the poetess got up early wishing to draw water from the well…She found the bucket entwined by the blooming morning glory vine. She was so struck…that she forgot all about her business and stood before it thoroughly absorbed in contemplation. The only words she could utter were ‘Oh, the morning glory!’ At the time, the poetess was not conscious of herself or of the morning glory as standing against [outside] her. Her mind was filled with the flower, the whole world turned into the flower, she was the flower itself…

“The first line, ‘Oh morning glory!’ does not contain anything intellectual…it is the feeling, pure and simple, and we may interpret it in any way we like. The following two lines, however, determine the nature and depth of what was in the mind of the poetess: when she tells us about going to the neighbor for water we know that she just left the morning glory as she found it…she does not even dare touch the flower, much less pluck it, for in her inmost consciousness there is the feeling that she is perfectly one with reality.

“When beauty is expressed in terms of Buddhism, it is a form of self- enjoyment of the suchness of things. Flowers are flowers, mountains are mountains, I sit here, you stand there, and the world goes on from eternity to eternity, this is the suchness of things.” Taken from WomenMasters

the well –bucket
taken by the morning glory:
I ask for water
© Chiyo-Ni

My humble offering inspired by Chiyo-Ni’s haiku:

© OliG'15 (Gaspé - marguerite)
© OliG’15 (Gaspé – marguerite)

on a bed of daisies
prickly grass no longer,
dandelion puff

dandelion puff
my body


Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Chiyo-Ni

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universal love (troiku)


chanting her mantra
leaves nodding gracefully
by the maple tree

chanting her mantra
barely a sparrow’s lilt
lazy afternoon

leaves nodding gracefully
momentary pause
praising the sun

by the maple tree
hum shanti shanti shanti
all-embracing joy


Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu…Shanti Shanti Shanti

May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all. Peace, Peace, Peace.



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hidden dreams (Haiga-Troiku) daily moments Feb 12

Daily moments February 12 2017

(C) Clr'17
(C) Clr’17


Hope mixed with despair
from my bedroom window
dreams beneath the snow

hope mixed with despair
buried under heavy layers
winter laughs at me

from my bedroom window
lull of rumbling snow ploughs
drifting off to sleep

dreams beneath the snow
fleeting thoughts of blossoms
tulips pierce the snow


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Rage (Six Word Story Challenge ~ Troiku)

I usually post six word story challenges on my other blog but it also inspired a haiku poem, so here it is.

The prompt at Six word Story is RAGE. I’ve written a sentence telling a story that ten inspired a Troiku, which is a new form of Haiku created by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai.


Pray for nations whose leaders rage!


good leaders listen
pulse of a nation
sifting thru filters

good leaders listen
people speak openly
together they build

pulse of a nation
erratic can turn to calm
sign of good counsel

sifting thru filters
taking down walls that block



Trumpaphobia is the new millennium rage.

Written for Six Word Story Challenge

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Dystopian nightmare (troibun) Daily Moments February 11 2017

In 2009 she moved to Montréal and the French translation of The Road by Cormac McCarthy(2006) had just come out. Her manager told her about the book, so she decided to read the original novel in English.  It stunned her how her manager kept saying how many people enjoyed this book, so she pursued.  Each chapter was still dark and depressing and by the time she finished the book all she could think was, “That was a waste of my time. I can think of many things to do to feel depressed that takes less energy.”

Now she is reading 1984, George Orwell (1949).  She never read it in school or college like many of her colleagues but perhaps the timing is right. She started reading it in December but had to stop for awhile since it was so disturbing. It reminded her a bit of The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, another novel that took months to complete…so depressing but well written.

If one looks at the news, reads articles on the internet and the election results of her neighbours in the South, it all seems to come together in a very very bad way.



The Road
the spirit dies

The road
disturbing nightmare
abuse of power

Trumped up lies
making history

the spirit dies
stripped of free thinking
in a shadow world


Daily Moments – February 11 2017 – Dystopian Nightmare

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touched (haibun)

among the bustle
trains, cars and buses
a beggar sits
a gift touches his cup
graced with silence

graced with silence
the eyes speak
a spirit touched

An image swims inside her head how one can truly touch the soul of a human being and they can respond silently with their eyes. Her heart is warm and filled with love. Do you hear it…screaming in the empty silence of the traffic? Do you hear the silent praise a mother shouts when her child comes home from school? Do you hear the echoes of refugees waiting in silent patience, the pain that touches us not enough?

in silence
meditating upon our sins
asking forgiveness


I had noticed two different prompts with the words Silence at Writing Wednesday and Touch at Tale Weaver at MindLovesMisery and the image was in my head but not sure if I could write this in a story form or waka. My muse finally graced me silently with the answer with the first tanka and then, I just got carried away in silent contemplation. Cheryl-Lynn R.

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renga (Carpe Diem Haiku Kai)

waves come into the cove
one at a time {Jane Reichold 2000}

silent mist sprays
over our nakedness


sandals in petals
yet he’s so poor
his hat’s a sack {Matsuo Basho}

my starving artist
fills me plenty


sleeping outdoors
with friends
summer constellations {Matsuo Basho}

backs on ticklish grass
seven sisters beaming


Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – Renga

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butterfly moment (troiku – haiga)



sometimes I wish
I was a butterfly
one brief moment

sometimes I wish
one heartfelt scene
and, time would stop

I was a butterfly
one sweet moment
forever prised

one brief moment
seals the heart



Troiku is a new form of haiku created by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

daily reflections February 8 2017

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