red door (haiga)

red door

red door at night
hidden under the stairs
still caught my eye

© Tournesol ’15

red door and curtains

late night stroll
life shines through draped windows,
are we there yet?

© Tournesol ’15

On my way home to the Métro from work, I stopped a moment to embrace the quiet of the night and the lovely autumn colours. Then I admired the doors along the way.

late night walk (Shasei- troiku)

Tonight I walked home from work after eleven and just soaked up what I saw and stopped a few moments to take photos to capture those moments. I got to the Métro and wrote this troiku immediately before losing that feeling I had just a few moments ago.  Of course these are ” Shasei” rather than haiku developped into a troiku.


© Cheryl-Lynn R. ’15

Walking home
slippery streets mock
autumn leaves
walking home
beauty swells in the light
silent night
slippery streets mock
I walk gingerly
catch a twilight view
autumn leaves mock
cold and wet – yet,
colour my world

© Tournesol ’15

Carpe Diem Haiku Writing Techniques #16 (Shiki’s) Shasei

“Though this technique is often given Shiki’s term Shasei (sketch from life) or Shajitsu (reality), it has been in use since the beginning of poetry in the Orient. The poetic principle is “to depict the thing just as it is“…He favored the quiet simplicity of just stating what he saw without anything else happening in the haiku. He found the greatest beauty in the common sight, simply reported exactly as it was seen, and ninety-nine percent of his haiku written in his style. Many people still feel he was right.”


Coming of age (haibun)

She thinks of times her muse would visit and literally just take over.  Looking over old poems of various forms, she has no choice but to believe this must be so because of the depth and eloquence of some poetry.  No, it must be some spiritual intervention, that has to be the answer.

September had thirty days of haiga and that may have forced the hand of her muse a bit.  Then she dared to attempt the challenge of 31 days of poetry at OctPoWriMo and now she is feeling the crunch. Her muse may be a little passive aggressive.  And she should be!  Why should she expect her muse to produce “on command”?  And so she waits tonight at one in the morning …

humble insights,
pen cannot scratch the surface
muse is ripe

muse is ripe
wildflower blossoms
even in autumn

© Tournesol ’15

Written for Ronovan Writes Poetry prompt 68 – Hiaku – Pen & Muse

talk (haiku)

© Clr '15 Gorging Seagulls

© Clr ’15 Gorging Seagulls

talking in bird language…


nature’s morning call

hen party
heckle about this and that

speed of its wings

gorging over litter

boasting black beauty

In this area in Quebec it is forbidden to hunt wild turkey past noon because they are more vulnerable…it is a time they are often found napping in a tree.

afternoon freedom
safe from hunters
turkeys yelp

Humans talk (communicate) in varied ways…


business meetings
teaching, lecturing
no talking in class

baby’s first words
talking gibberish
toddlers understand

instant message texting
teen talk

lyrics soothe the heart
love songs

tête à tête
holding hands lovingly
warm caresses

sexual healing
communion of bodies
gentle moans

matters of the heart
talking softly
language of love

© Tournesol ’15

Written for Poetry 101 Rehab – Prompt is Talk

soothing the spirt (haiku)

© Clr'15 Last of the Harvest

© Clr’15 Last of the Harvest

Tonight at work I was scheduled for four hours of Live Chat which means I usually put on my noise canceller headset and listen to music to avoid the distraction of counsellors on the phones. What a joy!! They say that taiko drums ward off evil spirits.  I woke up this Monday morning with the “moody” blues, so I have to say there may be a lot of truth to the power of these drums.

sailing past Sado
rocking to the sound
taiko throbbing

taiko throbbing
young and old dance to the beat
free spirits

beat of the drums
match the pounding
against his chest

feel the heat
pulsating through her veins
beat of the drums

© Tournesol’15


OctPoWriMo Poetry Prompt 27 – Whimsical

This is one of the last drum pieces I listened to:

shaking the blues (haibun)

Feeling this heavy weight this morning makes it difficult to find her get up and go. She shuffles to the shower, hoping to wash off fragments of gloom and doom. Caffeine doesn’t even work. She puts on her coat and wraps her long scarf around her to brave the cool autumn air on her way to work.

© Cheryl-Lynn R.'15

© Cheryl-Lynn R.’15

grey clouds linger
trees brave autumn winds
shaking off the blues

© Tournesol ’15

Written for Monday Writes


forgotten dreams (haibun – shadorma)

The church was filled with people of her past, close friends, colleagues and family. It felt so bizarre being in this house of worship. This was where she received five sacraments…only one left to go. The voice of the priest interrupted her thoughts now and then.
At the reception a few old high school friends offered their condolences. Her first high school sweetheart looked like a caricature of his teen-self decades ago adding jowls and lots of wrinkles on this stranger’s face. She was touched by his presence; his husband was introduced to me too. How life was different then, she thought. At least today society seems a little more open. Leaving a small, gossipy and unforgiving town helps too.

young lovers
wishing life were fair
sweet innocent love affairs
dreams just may come true

That night she rummaged through her bedroom closet and took out her old childhood jewelry box. Sitting on the bed, she opened it and tears streamed her face as the music box played Lara’s Theme. Looking through the old memories, she held a pin her mother had given her when she had “become a woman”. It was their secret. She held it in her hands and still felt the warmth and love they shared together, that very special bond.

She smiled at a postcard her best friend in Grade 9 had sent her when she had met her first love that summer long ago. She cranked up the music box to feel she was back there in her childhood bedroom years ago. Her fingers felt the sharp edges of the Eiffel Tower. Her art teacher had given her this hoping she would take her gift in painting seriously…she never did get around to that after college…life happened.
At the bottom of the jewelry box was an old photo…her mind traveled back in time.

that first kiss,
sealing promises of dreams
fairy-tale wonder

© Tournesol ’15

B & P Shadorma & Beyond and MindloveMiserysMenagerie

© MindLoveMiserysMenagerie – Collage 9

soupçon de mélancholie (haibun)




It’s been getting colder in the past week. Nights have dipped below freezing point and she has mixed feelings about that.  Ragweed allergies will finally cease;  daytime walks are still splattered with colours but the nights walking home from her late shifts will now be cold.

On her way back from her favourite grocery, Thai Foo, greens in her backpack,  she cannot not help but notice sweeping changes with nature around her.  Many trees have lost most of their leaves, and the late bloomers who also shed the latest, still hold some beautiful colours.  The yellow turned to a dark orangey tint, the maples were an even brighter red and one tree she could not name had yellowed leaves with dark brown strips of seeds hanging.  It truly looked like a Hallowe’en decoration. How totally apropos, she thought.

© Clr,15

© Clr,15

She knew there was about a  week left of signs of life through tints and hues.  After October 31st…the goblins will have eaten up most of life’s colours. November will prowl like rodents lurking garbage bins; life will appear barren  day by day.  She admires the last photos she took today, wishing this week could drag on a few more months.  Le mois des morts(the month of the dead)  is what they call November in her region.

novembre se faufile
soupçon de mélancolie

November slips in
drop of melancholy
spills over

© Clr'15

© Clr’15

Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille and MindlovemiserysMenagerie

Exploring poetry in all its forms.