Falling from the sky (haibun)

In August during the hot air balloon festival in a neighbouring town, I would love watching dozens of balloons in the sky at dawn and just before sunset.  I saw fewer in the morning but so many late afternoons.   Behind our house was a vast field and it is said when the hot air balloon lands on the property, the owner of the balloon offers a bottle of Champaign to the owner. Unfortunately our backyard was not the vast and the balloons always landed outside the property line…darn!

pre-dusk skies
balloons landing in meadows
distract tomcat
mice escape their hunter
farmer Joe toasts with champagne.

© Tournesol ’15

CP Timeglass Challenge – Photo prompt

Daisy tales (haibun)

Daisies have always been my favourite flower and when I was in college studying Gerontology, the professor asked us to choose an animal and a flower that best represents us and write about both with images as well. It felt like show and tell! Here I was in my mid 30’s gong back to college with two kids in school. I chose a doe and a daisy.{We’ll leave the doe aside for now.} The daisy was due to the strength of that flower that grows wild in meadows and the layers of petals, I felt, represented the multiplicity of my personality…still many underneath to discover. I believe that is a lifetime journey to continue to learn and grow. Death sometimes comes to the living if one no longer has the will of searching or learning.

I wanted to choose daisy as my nom de plume for Japanese poetry forms but I don’t like the translation of that flower in French, Marguerite. The “g” and “t” give it a harsh tone. My second choice was sunflower again for its robust nature and form. And I love the French translation, Tournesol, which is much softer… ça coule mieux {rolls off the tongue better}.

Chévrefeuille tells us more about the history of the daisy with varied legends of its meanings. Take a look below * for an enlightening and interesting read.

And now, I shall try to write a few haiku with some of these other meanings of a daisy.

thru grasslands,
wind blows while daisies waltz
children giggle

I love the sense of offering a daisy to someone, means to keep a secret. I like to imagine when a youth discloses to me for the first time, my handing him or her a delicate white daisy. This is our bond of secrecy, it is safe with me. A friend as well, who confides in me…this would be a nice gesture to seal our bond of secrecy, non?

tearful disclosures
embracing her friend
hands her a daisy

first time disclosure
embracing precious faith,
bids a white daisy

In conclusion, a snapshot of my thoughts in relation to a daisy and how it has enabled me to grow despite the subtle insights hidden underneath each layer.

petals wane
old woman tumbles
insights revealed

© Tournesol ’15


*Here is what our host has shared:

“If you’re thinking about white daisies, there’s more to daisies than that. They can also be bright and sunny yellow, purple, pink, red, and orange. Daisies look like cartwheels with petals as spokes. In other ways, it also looks like a star that’s shining brightly.Even if daisies are a very common name for this flower, it’s also known in many other names. Names like ox eye, horse gowan, moon penny, poverty weed and dog blow all pertain to the daisy.
Daisies are not poisonous. In fact, a lot of people add daisy leaves to their bowl of fresh garden salad.

Victorian Interpretation: Daisies have many different meanings attached to them. In the Victorian age, it meant innocence, purity, and loyal love. It also means that you’ll keep someone’s secret. You’re saying that “I vow never to tell anyone” – when you give someone a daisy.

Superstitions: Based on Scottish lore, daisies were referred to as gools. For every farmer who owns a wheat field, they have an employee called the gool rider. They had the task of removing the daisies from the fields. For these farmers, if a big crop of daisies was found in your field, you had to pay a fine in the form of a castrated ram.

For the Celts, daisies were thought to be the spirits of children who died when they were born. It’s God’s way of cheering them up when He created the daisies and sprinkled them on the earth. This has a big connection to daisies symbolizing innocence.

What’s the meaning of Daisies:

Daisies are flowers that mean different things to different people. It can mean cheerfulness particularly for the yellow colored blossoms and it can mean youthful beauty and gentleness. Some people look at the daisy to be a symbol of good luck. However, the most popular meanings attached to the daisy are – loyal love, innocence and purity. It’s also a taken to convey the message – “I’ll never tell”.Apart from the Celtic legend that daisies were the spirits of children, the symbol of innocence also comes from the story about a dryad who oversaw meadows, forests and pastures. One of the nymphs, Belides danced around with her nymph sister when the god of the orchards, Vertumnus saw her. To make sure that she escapes his attentions, she turned herself into a daisy thus preserving her innocence.In terms of loyal love, daisies are used by women particularly in the Victorian age to see which suitor loves them the most. By picking on the flower’s petals, a woman would know who loves her and who does not.”

© Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

All these different meanings and legends to choose from to create a classical haiku!

Our host wrote:

around the mansion
daisies standing strong together
after the storm

miracles happen
in the tiniest things
daisies blooming

thousand daisies
around the farmer’s house –
lowing of a cow

© Chèvrefeuille

Winter gems glow (Troiku)

Haiku is a image of a moment in time, put on pause… examined, dissected and most important, felt.  This was my moment in time when I got up this morning. My first day off for the weekend, like most people, a well needed rest in our long winters here.

golden glow

glistening charms melt


I set that haiku aside for two hours and wrote another post and came back to edit it until I thought it “felt” like my moment. It did. Afterwards I decided to do a Troiku with this haiku which I learned at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai.

golden glow

blinding baby blues

mouse squeals


glistening charms melt

shallow puddles form,

strays lap



softened by whispers

from heaven

© Tournesol ’15

Heeding Haiku with HA MLMM

Purple heather (haibun)

Credits: Kirsty Mitchell

They stumbled on rocks along the shore.


“Come along now, Bonnie, you’re holding us all up.”


Six year old Bonnie was stopping to collect a stone here, a stone there along the way on their family venture along the shores of Ballybunion.


“Stop being such a slow poke! stupid!!!” shouted her teenage brother, Sean. He was already agitated he had to tag along on this “dumb trip” when his girlfriend was back home in Dublin. “But NO!!, Mum had to visit the old homestead” he mimicked his mother’s voice, “’tis where your great-great-great-grand-dad O’Donnell was born and left for Canada during the famine” As if Sean cared about that trip that lasted one hundred years and they all moved back and lived happily ever after in Dublin, he thought. Big effin deal!!


“I’m not stupid! I’m smart, Miss O’Connell said so, so there,” she shouted back sticking out her tongue for good measure.


“Come along, Bonnie, we’re all tired and hungry. And stop picking up all those stones,now, luv. When we get to Monroe’s up ahead, we can stop for the day and eat a nice plate of fish and chips. How does that sound?” Bonnie scrunched up her nose just thinking of the smell she remembered the last time she had fish at Uncle Gerald’s. “They’re not stones, Mum, they’re precious pebbles and each one has a story to tell. Miss Con…” Her mother yanked her by the hand with a grunt and a sigh and Bonnie knew she meant business. She stuffed her pocket with three more pebbles and ran along side her mum and brother.


They saw the cabin near the pier and Sean rushed to Monroe’s to order his meal…he’d had enough being stuck with females for the past forty-eight hours.


They started walking up from the shore, high grass and spots of heather blowing in the wind made a pretty picture for any artist. Suddenly, Bonnie stopped and noticed something in the heather. “Mummy, come quick!” Her mother came by her side and they both approached slowly in case there was an animal hidden in the bush. Mae O’Donnell’s eyes widened and she put her hand to her mouth in shock. “This can’t be! It looks like it but is just can’t be! Jesus, Mary, Joseph…it is!”


Bonnie tugged at her mother’s cardigan, “What, Mummy, what is it.” Tears poured down her mother’s cheeks as she lifted the porcelain doll from the purple heather. “It’s me Gram’s doll. I used to play with it in the attic when I came to visit when I was your age, luv.”

gusts of sea breeze

whispering ancient secrets

bed of heather

© Tournesol ’15

Photo prompt at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie