Category Archives: music video

dancing in the wind (haibun)

© dverse Poets Pub,View of the church of Saint Paul de Mausole 1889 – private collection of Elizabeth Taylor

The sun is smiling today.  There is still an extra hour of bright colours before I am forced to retire to the  gloom of old church dorms.   I must hurry  and not waste time in the narrows of my mind!   It is time to capture what my heart might see some day…again.   Oh to have lived among the life of such hints, once sparked my life.

The sky is bursting with bright aqua and the sun is so bright it  dominates the clouds.  Billows smile in her golden glow. Oh how I would love to be there some day and run through the fields with my lover.  Hand in hand skipping like youngsters again. Oh, to be young again and soulfully alive.

It is a good harvest,  I overheard a farmer say to the cook last week. And yes, I can see the wealth of wheat so much prettier in the fields;  blow, blow wind!  Run while you still can until we meet again in the grey pit of my breakfast bowl  where only milk and brown sugar will turn you into a shade of mud.

feel nature’s pulse
golden wheat waltz
lilt of the wind

© Tournesol ’15

Dverse Poets – Monday Haibun

November Haibun #3

THE WALTZING WIND – Michiel Merkies – Piano Solos volume 1

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

CDHK

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

verses

Storm within (haibun +¸haiku)

On her walk home, she listened to Deva Premal, she had purchased three mantras last night…yep, three of the same mantras chanted differently. It gave her energy to start her shift and blessed her when she came home at the end of her long night.

She reached her home minutes after  midnight;  she gave her loyal feline friend a cuddle, then fired up the laptop. She must have touched a button she was not used to with her new Windows 10 and Microsoft Edge NEWS popped up with the first article shocking her.  “All my babies are dead”…her hand hesitated on the mouse for a split second and then she clicked.  A tragedy!  Preventable, unnecessarydrunk driving tragedy.  It was as if the weather of that nice evening walk home in the cool brisk air had changed dramatically.  This was why she no longer had television.  This was the reason she stopped purchasing newspapers 14 years ago but the internet still bled bad news.

home at twilight
sits with a midnight snack
and, then the storm broke
prays for those who’ll never rest
grieving for their babies

© Tournesol ’15

___________________________________________________

(haiku)

three dead children
parents’ limbs ripped of their souls
idle bicycles

a father,
a grandfather
gone forever

families,
communities and nations
grieve

the storm invaded,
addiction grabbed too many
victims

© Tournesol ’15

Haiku Horizons “storm”

Deva Premal – Gayatri Mantra

Oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥ

tát savitúr váreṇ(i)yaṃ

bhárgo devásya dhīmahi

dhíyo yó naḥ pracodáyāt

We meditate on the glory of the Creator;
Who has created the Universe;
Who is worthy of Worship;
Who is the embodiment of Knowledge and Light;
Who is the remover of Sin and Ignorance;
May He open our hearts and enlighten our Intellect.

she loves the nightlife (troiku)

(Troiku)

nightlife grabs her
feet tap-tap to the beat
leaping to a tango

nightlife grabs her
blossoms like a moonflower
alive and wanting

feet tap-tap to the beat
their bodies cling urgently
little space to breathe

leaping to a tango
grabs her like a rag doll
locked in hot embrace

© Tournesol ’15

Haiku Horizons “grab”

all one and the same (haibun)

Awakened by the lovely sound of birds chirping made her hope it might be sunny today.  It is! Her friend meows in protest for having shut her bedroom door earlier in the morning.  She chatters away expressing her discontent with a hint of hope to be stroked, fed and stroked some more.

The sky is a darker blue than most seasons…not quite cobalt but close with pearly billows drifting by accentuating the hues of this majestic sky.

sea of blue above
islands shaped in pearly greys
beg my surrender

She had moved her laptop in the living room so she could watch a movie last night and fires it up always curious to see the haiku prompt of the day at Carpe Diem Haiku kai.   In the past few months she has not been as regular contributing and she misses her haijin family.  Yesterday she took the time to visit a few siblings and cousins homes around the world in the blogosphere.

Her thoughts wander to a friend who is in San Ramon today and will be seeing Amma at her retreat. How she misses her warm and healing embrace.  Some call her a guru, others call her a hugging saint…she feels she is all of these and more. Her healing touch, her soothing smile, her words of wisdom and mostly her way of living by loving, giving tirelessly to humanity makes her heart swell.   Amma has a way of looking at you and making you see the beauty within. How she does it is a mystery or is it?  She does not preach laws but models compassion and asks us to see the light we all have within.

Her mind drifts off to sounds of various bhjans songs and the tabla drumming to her heartbeat.  Its echo makes her feel the divine beauty reflected from within.   So many instruments mimic nature and human sounds;  her Celtic spirit awakens with strings,  flutes and drums that soften her heart.  Drum circles come to mind and First Nations People who have become her conscious, reminding her to be good to Mother Earth.

© Pinterest

She looks at her mala beads and remembers hearing Amma say last year, “We are all beads strung on the same string of love.”   She tries to remember this daily.  The image of several homeless people who sit along her path to work come to mind.   Some speak French, English, Créole, Arabic or Spanish but she knows they all understand the same language…compassion.

sound of the drum
listen to the heart beat
all, one and the same

© Tournesol’15/11/14

Carpe Diem Extra Shaman

heat in the streets (haibun)

It is theMontreal International Jazz Festival that is here now with horns blaring, pianos declaring and sexy throaty singers making our hearts melt. At least a dozen stages outdoors setup in the entertainment district…minutes from cobblestone streets of Old Montreal, China Town and the Old Port. Ten marvelous days and nights of singing, dancing, swaying and slow dancing too.

Sax wails in pain
sultry baritone strings
lovers jive

© Tournesol ’15

Emma Frank – In Separation

Montreal International Jazz Festival

Y is for Yesterday (Haibun)

Stop the Stigma

Y is for yesterday like yesteryear, the past. Such a word brings up so many different meanings. You walk into the office ready for that meeting you had been prepping for the past three weeks; the administrative assistance looks at you wide-eyed when you ask which room was reserved for said meeting. Stammering somewhat, she tells you it was “yesterday”…palm to forehead you jammed it so hard you are left with a red mark for a few hours and a splitting headache.

Poets and writers use this word with such passion; we do too especially if we are mourning a lost love, we feel pain and sadness at first. Later, hopefully, we can reminisce of sweet memories of yesterday’s precious moments.

And one cannot …EVER…forget the first loves of your youth…

(tanka)

Ah pure innocence!
yesterday, was such a fool
butterfly wings
loving you with heart and soul
like no…

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