Tag Archives: carpediemhaikukai

river heals (Tan Renga)

Such a lovely prompt today at Carpe Diem to complete a Tan Renga.  Our host shares his heart warming delight that Carpe Diem has become an engaged and loving family. Here are two completions by our host.

river stones
caressed by flowing water
pale moon shines (Becca Givens)

the sound of a waterfall
makes the night more silent (Chèvrefeuille)

river stones
caressed by flowing water
pale moon shines (Becca Givens)

behind a thin veil of clouds
she, the one I love, smiles at me (Chèvrefeuille)

Indeed, I am a late comer, more like the half-sister or step-sister whichever seems the nicest {grins}.  A family that creates an art painters do, a mood great writers do and encouragement and guidance a caring parent or older sibling do.  In that vein I have written this.  I am starting with the completion that suits the mood of this prompt best.

river stones
caressed by flowing water
pale moon shines ©Becca Givens

intermittent trickle
winks of the milky way © Tournesol

Water is actually my lifeline in so many ways.  At first I looked at this prompt and attempted several completions that appeared morose and yet it is meant to show the power of water and how its presence in my life changes the currents in my heart, soul and moods.   So I wrote several and reread the instructions of our host giving us a choice to write another haiku or completion.  Ah, so back to the drawing board and here are my haiku that map a part of my journey before I arrived to the above completion.

© Roger Kenner – Richelieu River, Chambly, Quebec

toes in icy water,
sting in hope, tingling
mollifies the soul 

tears of despair
finally, river swallows
I can breathe

© Tournesol

Winter Shelters (haibun)

Today the prompt is “forest” at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. Here is a beautiful haiku by our host of Carpe Diem:

listen to the wind
that moves through the forests –
buzzing mosquitos

© Chèvrefeuille

(c) Olivier Gagnon - Rougemont, Québec '14
(c) Olivier Gagnon – Rougemont, Québec ’14

I was trying to remember times I was deep in a forest besides camping. Then I recalled times when I used to cross country ski in the mountains…not huge ones, mind you…more hills…Mount St Bruno was such a lovely place to hike, snow shoe and ski. It has alpine skiing too even if it is a tiny mountain; it is lit up atnight and only 15 minutes from downtown Montreal. So that`s pretty cool.

My favourite place to cross country was in Rougemont, where my son actually lives now. You go up up up for a long time. But you do get in the forest quick enough and can shed a few layers of sweaters under that winter wind breaker. It is a great place to just sit and admire the scenery. And once you get high enough, then you go down down down for a long time…lt is not too steep so the descent is really lovely.

Cross country
against strong winds
forest shelters

(c) Tournesol ’14-08-08

Dynastie des grand-mères (haibun) (CP #534 Ancestors)


The prompt today is Ancestors at Carpe Diem and again Chèvrefeuille quotes a passage from Sand and Fom by Khalil Gibran.

{…} “Remembrance is a form of meeting”. {…}

Chèvrefeuille goes on to say that ancestors are a part of us. They are in our genes and will always be with us. They are in our mind and heart. They are part of us.

at the jumble sale
the photo of someone’s grandma,
she smiles at me

© Chèvrefeuille

Dynastie des grand-mères

Absolute Arts

Ten years ago between Christmas and New Year’s my dad was rushed to the hospital for the last time. He had been sick for over two years. Having him phone me multiple times past midnight with belaboured breath was a common occurrence but as soon as I would drive up to his apartment forty minutes later, he would be sitting at his desk, heaving, yet, pleading that I not call 911. I had called once and they came for several minutes, saw my father’s pleading face with tears, so scared they would take him away . then they explained to me he was lucid and they had to respect his wishes.

That night Christmas week, he fell on the floor, unconscious and a neighbour called 911. It was only a few days before he was in a coma and my daughter announced she was expecting a baby. I knew…felt in my heart, she was carrying a boy. My father did January 3rd, 2004.

My daughter was living with me at the time in Toronto and she invited me to her monthly appointment to see her gynecologist. I was so excited, walking in with her to Women’s College Hospital, a ten minute walk to our respective jobs. {yes, I was lucky that she even worked downtown next to my work!}

The doctor put the monitor on her belly and we could hear a loud quick heartbeat. My whole being tingled and I wept with joy, at my grandchild’s heart beating. Later she gave me a snapshot of the ultrasound and it is the first photo in the baby album…well, after I had kept it on my fridge door for months, that is! Nanas have more brag rights than mothers and fathers.

His Tiny-Ness swimming,
in my daughter’s womb/
felt Dad beam

© Tournesol

For those who have read earlier stories of my grandmother, know that she was a midwife and I was born in her house/bed. Lucky me! She was the same age I was when my daughter gave birth to my grandson. I was her labour coach…I felt GrandMaman’s presence so much with me during her long hours of labour.

Being with my daughter, I was filled with so many images, memories and visions of the past. It was like a book where one chapter is the present, the next chapter rewinds back to the past and the next chapter resumes to the present. It was such a powerful experience so difficult to express. For years when describing the birth of my grandson, I never had a chance to describe much before I would break down crying. It has been a few years now that I can manage to hold my own… well better.

If I were an artist I would have painted a portrait of a woman giving birth with shadows forward of another mother giving birth…I sketched it once but I am SO not an artist.

I kept shifting in time, from the birth of my daughter and son…the newness of giving birth to my son, the fear and worry; the anticipation of being induced with my daughter and wondering if I was having another son or a daughter . {No, I never wanted to know…I felt the curiosity may give me more incentive to push with more drive. The first thing I noticed alone with my baby girl, stripping off her nightie, diapers and tiny socks…examining every centimetre and thinking, “She will go through this same labour mixed with joy someday too.”

My grandmother was the same age I was when I became a grandmother; after her long illness of dementia and her death, I had not felt close to her; I missed her  and somehow, I felt much closer to her since my grandson`s birth…closer than I had ever felt since her death

presence felt
she gave me a grandson/

© Tournesol

River listens (shadorma – tilus)


This prompt, Chèvrefeuille has discovered Shadorma, a short poetry-form from Spain. I have had the privilege to have learned about this through Bastet in her weekly prompts at Mindlovemiserys Menagerie. I think I was drawn to it as well because Oliana is an island in Spain…so it was most fitting that I learn this poetry-form. The Shadorma is a poetic form consisting of a six-line stanza (or sestet). Each stanza has a syllable count of three syllables in the first line, five syllables in the second line, three syllables in the third and fourth lines, seven syllables in the fifth line, and five syllables in the sixth line (3/5/3/3/7/5) for a total of 26 syllables. A poem may consist of one stanza, or an unlimited number of stanzas (a series of shadorma). I sometimes like to add another form, Bastet introduced to us called Tilus which is 3 lines consisting of 10 sylables 6/3/1 with Shadorma forms to get a message across.

Chèvrefeuille sought the internet and ran into several examples of Shadorma, but this one by Richard Ankers is was one he found beautiful.

Verdant grass of dreams;
Swaying free;
Living free;
Gathered together as one:
Most peaceful landscape.
© Richard Ankers

Here is another lovely example written by Jen at Blogitorloseit.com

with crocodile teeth
the phoenix –
plumes turn to ash in his mouth –
he singes his jaws
© Jen of Blog It Or Lose It

Here is Chèvrefeuille’s first try at it.

red Roses
sharing their perfume,
morning mist
and the soft breeze
giving it to the whole wide world,
unknown love

© Chèvrefeuille

I think that is a wonderful offering…I could smell the scent of the roses in this poem. Didn`t you?

(c) Clr - 2014 Yamaska River
(c) Clr – 2014 Yamaska River

salty tears
my river listens
life’s choices
water roars over the dam
releasing sorrow.

waterfall swallows tears
and then I

© Tournesol ‘14/08/02

Submitted for: Carpe Diem’s Little Ones #12, Shadorma

Double Rainbow (Tan Renga)

Credits: Double Rainbow

What wonderful haiku and the photo provided is stunning.


double rainbow 1(c) Clr 2013 October

 I could not help but be reminded of the double rainbow I had seen on my way from work one day I finished unusually early. It had been raining in mid October and the sky had darkened already save for Montreal street lights, only the rain, my umbrella and bumping into pedestrians kept me alert walking to the Métro. Then as I gazed at the sky, just above the church facing the Métro, I saw a rainbow. I was quite astonished to see it this late in the day and I don’t think I have ever seen such a sight in the Fall. In the country and small towns we are graced with such views but in the city there are too many distractions to really notice. City workers were leaving their buildings and I could not help but notice their faces look up at the sky and smile even after a hard day’s work. Then some people cheered as a second rainbow faintly joined it’s cousin. Thank you Ese for this lovely reminder and haiku and Chèvrefeuille for offering this prompt, it brings me back to fond memories in the country and especially that October fest of colours … and now I have added two Tan Renga to focusing on “time to count blessings” as I am also reminded of that moment last October in Montréal on boulevard Laurier.

double rainbow
arches across stormy sky
time to count blessings (Ese)

the joy and laughter of my kids
resonates at the family barbecue (Chevrefeuille)

double rainbow
arches across stormy sky
time to count blessings (Ese)

yuppies stare up openmouthed
filled with wonder and reverence (Tournesol)

double rainbow
arches across stormy sky
time to count blessings (Ese)

gauchely holding umbrella
photograph a miracle (Tournesol)

© Tournesol ‘14/08/02

Submitted for: Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge #45, “Double Rainbow”

Footprints (CarpeDiemHaikuKai #529)

Credits: Foot-prints in the sand

Today Chèvrefeuille is inspired by “Sand and Foam” by Gabril Kahil which is the first prompt of this month. I am still shocked that August has come so quickly!

I am forever walking upon these shores,
Betwixt the sand and the foam,
The high tide will erase my foot-prints,
And the wind will blow away the foam.
But the sea and the shore will remain

© Khalil Gibran

What a wonderful poem to set the mood.

This first prompt of this new CDHK-month is almost a little episode of Carpe Diem “Distillation” and of course you may use the goals of CD-distillation for this episode, that’s all up to you, feel free …

Chèvrefeuille shares a lovely poem once shared in February 2012 for the Haiku Challenge of SiS.

a little verse
to leave my footprint on the Internet
scent of Honeysuckle

scent of Honeysuckle
makes me slumberous
dreaming of passion

dreaming of passion
while walking along the seashore
with the one I love

with the one I love
I undertake a journey
into oblivion

into oblivion
with my pencil and paper
a little verse

a little verse
caught me years ago with it’s beauty –
addicted forever

© Chèvrefeuille

Well, my heart goes pitter patter to that poem and sets me in the right mood for this:

walking on wet sand
eyes closed, breathing in echoes

squawking along the beach
waves rumble

waves rumble
water rising up my legs
erasing footprints

erasing footprints
loves lost, hearts broken
tears streak

tears streak
evokes blissful desires lit,
walking on wet sand

walking on wet sand
musings blow in the wind
turn into love poems.

© Tournesol ‘14/08/02

Submitted for: FootPrints Carpe Diem #529