Verger Ozias Leduc (haiga)

Ozias Leduc was a self-taught painter and his father owned an apple orchard in Mont St Hilaire (south shore of Montreal)

family fun day
au Verger Ozias Leduc
children on tip toes

children on tip toes
apple slips and falls
toddler’s prize

(c) Tournesol ’15


toddler’s prize
trying to bite through the skin
worm wiggles out

worm wiggles out
toddler giggles but Mom screams
swallow wins a lunch

(c) Tournesol ’15


Carpe Diem Haiku Kai The Orchard

Dawn Thoughts – Orchards – February 28, 2015

A lovely cascade of haiku celebrating apple orchards.

Bastet and Sekhmet's Library

Camille_Pissarro,_Le_verger_(The_Orchard),_1872Credits: Orchard in Bloom, Louveciennes (1872) – Camille Pissarro 

these pure white blossoms
nature’s springtime maiden heads
apple trees abloom

walking through orchards
red plum and pink cherry blooms
how sweet the perfume

dancing bees
joyous among the apple trees
the orchard in fest

this still spring morning
sol smiles his benediction
ah … smell the turned earth
blossoms bright sweetly perfumed
life quickens on Earth

farmers working
preparing the new autumn
under warm spring skies

© G.s.k. ‘15

Camille Pissarro Camille Pissarro (1830-1903)

Inspired by Camille Pissarro, Spring and Carpe Diem Haiku Kai!

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MMt’s First Yellow Blossoms (Tan Renga)

first yellow blossom
sprouting from a slender branch—
Buddha bows his head  © Magical Mystical Teacher

first yellow blossom
sprouting from a slender branch—
Buddha bows his head (c)MMT

sitting on the riverside
minnows making ripples (c) Tournesol

Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge

Video:  Flies, minnows and ripples

Retrouvaille (haibun)


At Carpe Diem we are given a beautiful painting by Van Gogh where the artist spent his last years. Our host, Chèvrefeuille chose House of Auvers for our inspiration to write a haiku. It is an image that one can relate to in many ways.  See more information at Carpe Diem – House (au Auvers)


Since the industrial revolution, so many “home visits” have been postponed until spring or summertime. In many parts here in the Montreal area and suburbs,  that is mainly due to the weather and icy roads. I used to work for a steel company who gave their employees a 4-day weekend at Easter so many could drive down to Gaspé for instance,  to visit their family; most of these families had moved here for work but their hearts were still back home.

village réanimé  
retrouvaille familiale
cries des goélands


emerging village
family reunions
gulls shriek

© Tournesol ’15

a trace of you (Troiku)

It’s been a while since I sense your presence and yet, that may be a good sign.  You are finally reunited with the love of your love.  I had a dream last night. Bette, my feline friend who is named after your nickname was playing hide-and-go-seek in your house.  We were in your bedroom. You had been on some health food diet and you were clearing your closet. I was shocked to see such order! Well, we know that that was not a priority for you. And why should it, when you had more important things to do, like sit by the window, sipping your coffee and watch the birds by the river, pecking at the bird feeder.  Or getting all dolled up with your designer outfits; applying Lancôme or Clinique to moisten your skin; a touch of ombre à paupière and a trace of eyeliner; before running out to go shopping, applying your favourite rouge à lèvre and la pièce de résitance...three sprays of Shalimar.

Whenever you visited your scent lingered for days and any clothes you gave me, laundry could not remove that faint scent of your eau de toilette…that trace of Colombe.

In my dream, Bette snuck behind the wall of your closet and when I followed, feeling like Alice in Wonderland, I found a slight opening and there was a narrow room with odd trinkets and old furniture. Bette had adopted a small filing cabinet. I had never seen this room. You were busy washing clothes, sorting the closet and your commode.  It was as if I was not really there but you sort of knew I was there…It felt like I was watching a movie of you…there was a screen separating us, preventing us from touching, hugging.

When I awakened, I realized this was another little visit. And now you know why I named my feline friend, Bette. I’m so glad you met her.

my shawl breathes
scents of Shalimar
trace of you

my shawl breathes,
reminiscence woven  
you and me

scents of Shalimar
sweet scented sounds
your laughter

trace of you
faint trails of eau de toilette
remind me of you

© Tournesol ’15

© Clr ’14

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

A Haibun is a narrative (prose) followed by haiku. For more information check Haibun Thinking.

less innocent intentions (haiga)


grimée soigneusement
grande soirée à l’intention
piégé son homme


all dolled up
grand evening with intention
trap her man


assise modestement
mine de rien, mais la notion
d’attirer un homme


sitting discreetly
innocent looking with the intent
to entice a man

© Tournesol ’15

Written for Carpe Diem Shuukan – Intentions

Photos: courtesy of Chris at Muscleheaded Blog

courtesy of Suzee Ques – Flickr


Embracing emotions (haibun)


One expresses emotions in varied ways and for some it is spontaneous and simply who they are.  Perhaps you are like me when you see someone you love and have not seen in a while, you run up to the person and hug them, kiss them on each cheek.

Overjoyed the morning I felt my son moving in my tummy…the basement of our new home had flooded and I could not hide my joy.  Could not relate to the damage, the flood or any problem whatsoever for a human life did somersaults in MY tummy!!

Oh how I weep with joy every time I see my daughter performing in a choir, when my son did a guitar solo and sang a Bob Dylan song, when they graduated both from high school and college;  and even today when I see them smiling and teasing each other…the joy just takes too much place in my heart and so I weep.

Perhaps your emotions are too close to the surface and your heart swells so much you weep the moment a word hurts your feelings; perhaps it is anger that is too difficult to conceal and you shout, rage or cry again. Maybe you have always felt life dealt you a raw deal and everyone and everything you touch must be for your loss, like a child who stomps off angry because Mommy would not let him eat candy before dinner.

And then there are those who do not express emotions as easily and it eats at them, festers and makes them sick…they are not “at ease” hence it stirs “dis-ease”.  The persons who cannot weep when they grieve, express their love when they long, show their joy when they are gripped with such a powerful love…yet to look at their body language, one cannot read the joy, happiness, rapture or sadness.

Sometimes I speak to a person who has gone through the most dreadful experiences in his past, heard such hurtful comments, witnessed such atrocities and yet I hear no emotion in the voice…flat, no affect whatsoever.  Over time the dam may open slowly when a person feels safe…In this case, a person had to hide all emotion to survive. To give in to emotion may weaken them and so life goes on with explosive emotions inflating  their soul…heart, like a ticking time bomb.

Emotions are not excluded to humans, and we can see that with animals that we love. It could be a horse you would groom for hours before riding, your dog you have walked, bathed like a baby and cuddled with a towel to keep them warm, a cat that leans in close to get a pet, a scratch but deep inside we know it is to be close to you…expressing their emotions in their loving and natural way.

My grandfather had rescued a golden mix a few years before got terminally ill.  GrandPapa died later in his bed at his home; when the ambulance came to take his body, Princess, the golden mix,  followed the cot whimpering along the side and then went running in the basement howling so loudly. She did not come up for a whole week, so great was her grief.

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confused and scared

a stranger whispers in her ear

“…luv you mum”


this frail body

seasoned with dementia

puckers her lips



hand on her belly

feeling flip-flops

© Tournesol ’15

Heeding Haiku with HA ~ MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie