turn turn turn (Troiku – haiga)



turn turn turn
 when does it stop
on this roundabout

turn turn turn
reeling in vertigo

when does it stop
short or long paths,
timing is everything

on this roundabout
all roads lead to Rome
but,  different lessons

© Tournesol’15

heavy quilt (haiku)

GrandPa’s tombstone
hidden under hoary quilt
plays peek-a-boo

© Tournesol’15

However, reality bites here insofar as spring feeling close goes;  I had to wear my ski mask last night walking home in the cold March wind at only minus 10. Perhaps winter is dragging on too long and the cold is difficult to endure this time of year.

timely equinox
spring meanders
lost again

© Tournesol ’15

soothing voice (haibun) Haiga festival – Troiku

It is interesting that this prompt is posted the exact day I was reminiscing of times past with my mother. I was speaking with someone yesterday who mentioned that he felt sad that he no longer remembered the voice of his long deceased mother. That made me think about people I love who have passed especially my mother who recently passed this past December. I remember her voice, her off-key voice when singing, her laugh…oh her laugh!! and her cough that was unique to  her. She always tried to be a lady even when coughing and would clear her throat a bit like her mother (GrandMaman) but still unique to her. I remember her ankles making that snapping sound when she entered the church when I was little and clearing her throat, I felt so much better knowing she was joining me in the pew closer to the front of the church very soon for the priest in the pulpit high up was quite ominous!

Even when she was sick and her memory was muddled, her voice never changed. I remember sitting in the front seat of the car when I was very little because I was always car sick and leaning my big fat head on her breast always worried my heavy head would crush her tiny breasts.
I remember her singing pop songs of the 50`s missing a few words here and there but her voice would make any hit parade. And of course her signature pinch. She loved with such affection she had to control herself from pinching our cheeks too hard.

I remember her telling me so often, “Dont worry, darling. Dont forget to say your three Hail Mary`s and your Act of Contrition before going to sleep.” And the latter not that long ago.


her voice soothes me   haiga


when I close my eyes,
brings me back in time
her voice soothes me

when I close my eyes
beauty adds red to her lips
scent of Youth Dew

brings me back in time
pins my hair in a French twist
pinches my cheeks

a voice that soothes me
humming Toura Loura Loura
Hush, but I now cry

© Tournesol ’15

CP – Melancholy

Ovid by the river (haiga)

Tonight as I read so many poems and many mention blossoms and various flowers, I can’t help but reminisce.  I remember studying for exams sitting outside because it was finally warm enough, next to the house by the river.  I was trying very hard to concentrate on my Latin Poetry and Prose, editing my translation of the text’s Latin poem.

“I am the poet of the poor, because I was poor when I loved; since I could not give gifts, I gave words.” Ovid  



the river breeze
skims through Ovid’s poem
scent of lilacs

© Tournesol ‘15

Written for: Haiku Horizons “skim”