Dear Emma,


Walking to the bus today, I started feeling a bit anxious. I saw a long long line waiting for the bus and I knew I would have to stand up. By the time I got in, I placed my heavy backpack and prepared to balance myself and stand holding onto a pole. Then a nice young man who was sitting in a seat reserved for people with less mobility asked if I wanted the seat. In my mind, I thought to myself, “Well, let me see, the sign shows a cane and a blind person. Hmmm, why do many young people always choose that seat is beyond me!” I said, No thank you, but he stepped down. Okay, this is good, I thought.
Getting off the bus, people were pushing and shoving…one older woman asked me to go ahead of her to go down the 4 flights of stairs to get to the subway. “Oh, no, thank you, Ma’am, I will be taking a bit longer to get down.” And I proceeded to take one step at a time like a toddler…It irks me but I know it is temporary…or maybe not…who the heck knows.
Alright, rewind…I called the hospital for the 4th time today and finally got an answer to when they would call me with an appointment, the tape said, “About two years!” Are you kidding? I have time to screw up the other knee and need surgery for both! So that got me frustrated. I was thinking about the good health services I was accustomed to in Toronto. That was minutes before I left to walk to the bus…fast forward…
On the subway, it was pretty busy. I leave a bit earlier now that I walk slower but the crowd is not so nice…nope, I like my later, calmer, mellow crowd. People were pushing my knee…I have long legs, so even sitting down, my thigh to knee sticks out…so I have to put both hands on it to protect it from being bashed in. A young woman was standing next to my seat and kept leaning on me. I don’t know why because there was plenty of room to her left…probably wanted my seat…I guess.
When I finally stood up for my next stop, rather than make room she blocked my path, waited for me to go all the way around her in the moving, shaky subway and then she grabbed my seat. I wondered why she had such an “attitude”…she seemed very annoyed. I thought to myself, well, maybe she got in a fight with someone, maybe she has been pushed around enough on public transit…etc., and now she don’t take no hsit from anyone…the list was long on why she may be like this.
I realized I was fuming too and did not like it. So on the way out for my walk to work from the Métro, I chanted my mantra until I got in the elevator. Yep, even getting in the door it bugged me that people would not hold the door as they were getting out, everyone for themselves and that bugged me. Thank goodness I chanted my mantra for it did diffuse my bitchiness I was feeling and later I saw a really nice video of Amma that just made me nice and mellow the rest of my shift.
Talk about starting my day on the wrong foot…boy! Sure glad I turned things around…my mantra, that video and writing a few haiku for Carpe Diem`s Ghost Writer on haiku and humour just sprinkled the rest of the day with giggles and feel good vibes.
Oh, yeah, and I ate at my favourite restaurant, The Green Panther which is now located very close to the office, it is huge now and has wi-fi Here is a peek at my salad I had for dinner.

© C.L.R. Le Panthère Vert `14
© C.L.R. Le Panthère Vert `14

I shall go back when it is not too busy to take photos to add to my collection of eateries. This is a vegan place so my café au lait is with almond, rice or soy milk but it`s still amazing…fresh ground beans for each cup!

© Oliana Kim, 2014/09/17

haiku and humour (haibun) Rated PG

Our Ghost Writer today is Björn Rudberg and he is inviting us to write a haiku more in the style of Issa who loved to add humour. I could not think of a better ghost writer to challenge us to add some dry wit in our haiku writing.

Humour in Haiku and renga
spring peace -
a mountain monk peeks
through the hedge
© Issa
Björn adds another way of doing humour in haiku is a concept of renku Haikai no renga (俳諧の連歌comic linked verse).
Such as:
The robe of haze is wet at its hem
To which the disrespectful response was:
Princess Sao of spring pissed as she started
So today Björn wants us to either, write a classic haiku with humor embedded, or take a classic haiku (maybe from our earlier challenges), and to a tan renku, where your second stanza creates an effect of humor through crudeness and disrespect.

So here goes but with a bit of a story to situate the reader:

© C.L.R.l 2014
© C.L.R.l 2014

I was raised in a very small town…90% francophone and very Catholic. Oh, there was an Anglican Church and a United Church but you can be sure that every single French-speaking person went to the Catholic Church.  And my mom was French and my dad Irish Catholic…so you get the drift.

For a small town of less than five thousand, we had a gigantic church. Our church had originally been built to be a cathedral and home of our bishop but they switched that on us…so we have the beautiful church sans l’évêque (bishop).  It is a magnificent church where I was baptized, made my first communion, confirmation and was married….oh, yeah, the only place I ever went to confession too!!…boy did I go a lot cos they told us if you didn`t and if you died you would go straight to hell…so, since I don`t like fire too much and they showed such scary faces that lived in hell, I obeyed.

The eve of my wedding I ran in the rain, all the way across the bridge to go to confession so I would be “pure” for my wedding. Okay, okay, it sounds lame perhaps but you have to understand the power of      FEAR and I was quite naïve, having met my ex at 15 and married at 19. Anyway penance and absolution makes everything all right, right? Of course we never could tell the priest EVERYTHING…good lord! I did that once at a retreat and the monk gave me the whole rosary for penance and told me to break up with this devil of a boyfriend! And all I said was that I had French kissed…sheeesh!!

Teen lovers
snuck out of the barn
to go to confession

priest listened to their sins
hanging on to every word

that night the priest
in deep reflection for their sins
committed one too

© Tournesol `14

Every year a priest would come to the house for the yearly visit, chat a bit, collect the church dues and bless us. We all know that it was really to collect the dues. Collecting in person is more embarrassing to refuse.

L’abbé St-Onge would come to our house every year. Usually they changed from year to year but not our family. My parents had an idea why… You see my father always purchased the yearly Playboy calendar and put it on the inside of the washroom door. You know the TV show MAD? Well, that was how my dad acted like one of those players…no kiddin’!
L’abbé St-Onge would chat with my mom and smiled a lot. Of course my mother was a hopeless flirt, looked exactly like Bette Davis {when she was beautiful} and Mom could bat her eyelashes a mile a minute. After about 30 minutes, (felt like hours to me!) he would go to the washroom and stayed there a little while and when he walked out he  had this big goofy smile on his face. Guess he liked Miss October!! My father would get a kick out of that when my mother told him he came to collect the parish dues.

Playboy Calendar
Playboy Calendar

viste de paroise
bénédiction de la famille
tribuchant en sortant
marchant au presbytère
sifflant avec un sourire naïf


on a parish call
blessed the local family
tripped on his way out
walking to the rectory
whistling with a goofy smile.

© Tournesol ’14

Posted by Oliana Kim, 2014/09/16

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #25, Björn Rudberg on "Haiku and Humor"

light of grace (tanka)

CARPE DIEM HAIKU KAI: Carpe Diem Special #107, Words said by Francis of Assisi

[...] “All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.” [...] by Francis of Assisi

candle spring buson

lost in darkness,
shower of despair halts,
light of Amma`s grace
her children feel compassion
melting in her warm embrace

© Tournesol ’14

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin

Amma’s darshan

human nature (haiga)

Lady Slipper Orchid (Wikipedia)

autumn beaches
the priest reminisces
of string bikinis


the young gardener
offers her a lady slipper
sister blushes.

© Tournesol ’14

Posted originally at Tournesol dans un Jardin 2014/09/16

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #25, Björn Rudberg on “Haiku and Humor”

last harvest (free verse)

“For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”  - Khalil Gibran
© C.L.R. the  last season
© C.L.R. the last season

With my last breath
I whisper with the wind
I love you
images my last hour
flashes of faces
I have kissed
souls of unknowns
I’ve loved nonetheless,
loved with my heart
with my last breath
letting go
being led
at peace
with my fate…
with my last breath,
wind blows gentle
far far away
solely felt
with each skip
of the heart,
with my last breath
sigh of relief
resting in peace
my last gift
to the earth
little creatures
shall feast,

none left to waste
with my last breath
last harvest
coming home
to rest.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/09/15

Posted for Dungeon Prompts, Season 3, Week 7: Until our last breath 

last thoughts tonight (free verse)

© CLR '14 Windsor Station, Montreal, Qc.
© CLR ’14 Windsor Station, Montreal, Qc.

where has time gone
they say it flies
guess I missed the plane
no time to read
no time to write
all that is in my mind

my mind swims
with thoughts
intruding on my prayers
my mantra and my leisure time

what means free time?
time well spent?
time wasted?

no time…
time flies
said I,
gazing in the skies.

© Oliana Kim 2014/09/15

silent crow – corbeau muet (haiku)

sur la pierre tombale
versant mes larmes pour grand-père
corbeau est muet

feuilles tombent en abondance
leaves falling in abundance

on the tombstone
weeping tears for grandfather
silent crow.

© Tournesol  ’14

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin 2014/09/15

Carpe diem Sparkling Stars #5 Kishu’s “a crow passes”

I was too tempted to add that middle between the French and English haiku. I know it does not make it a tanka or tan renga but it just seemed to fit.

nothingness – néant (haiga)

Art by ShadowGirl

étoile, tache scintillante
dans l’universe
qui suis-je?

qui suis-je?
moins qu’une pensée

égaré dans la voie lactée
jouissant la chance
des étoiles


star, shimmering fleck
in the cosmos
what am I?

what am I?
smaller than a thought

lost in the milky way
counting my lucky

© Tournesol ’14

Originally posted by Tournesol dans un Jardin 2014/09/15

Carpe Diem Haiku Shuukan Universe #21

On my way home tonight (senryû – haiku)

sky was so clear
walking home to le métro
clouds dizzied me

skies beckoned me
tap-tap tap

lip-singed my mantra
pausing to study nature
aging in silence

aging in silence
found beauty in frigid air
frozen in time

frozen in time
hand in pocket, other clasped
tap-tap tap

down the stairs a teen rushed past me
pulling up his pants.

legs spread wide
held pants dropping below hips/
thinking he was cool!

stepping off the bus
stunned by bright stars, gaped/
leaning on my cane.

life is beautiful
wrapped in nature’s beauty
tap tap tapping home.

© Tournesol ’14


Posted by Oliana Kim, 2014/09/15

hot springs (haiku)

Hot Springs

When I first saw the prompt “hot spring”, this was my first reaction… daydreaming of being in a far away romantic place.

slipping in the mist
bubbles wrap them
Cappella winks

© Tournesol ’14

But then I read the literature our host has included and I am getting quite fond of Basho. So this is my next offering in the theme of the story shared.

untold visions,
graceful droplets

© Tournesol ’14


Posted by Oliana Kim 2014/09/14


Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #562 Hot Springs

dernière récolte (haiga)
© C.L.R. 2014



Dernière récolte
cultivateur jette un épi pourri
banquet des fourmis

Last harvest
farmer flings a rotted cob
banquet of ants

© Tournesol \14

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un jardin

Carpe Diem #561 Harvested Fields

Deserted beach (haiga)
Lovers of the light – Deviant Art

plage déserte
l’été rencontre sa fin
amants se séparent

amoureux vite oubliés
jusque l’été les retrouve

la ville fait appel
la réalité amorce
rêvant de leurs amours


deserted beach
summer meets it end
lovers part their ways

lovers all forgotten
’til summer finds them again

city life bids
reality begins
dreams of summer love

© Tournesol ’14

Posted by Oliana Kim 2014/09/13

Carpe Diem #560 Deserted Beach

abandoned islanders (haiga)


Prince Edward Island Red Beach


deserted beach
high tide washes away
tiny footprints

tiny footprints
builders of sand castles
forgotten red pail

deserted beach
waves etched on red sand
ferry boat blares

ferry boat blares
only locals left to endure
cold empty beach

© Tournesol ’14

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin 2014/09/13

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #560 Deserted Beach

City streets (free verse)

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I walked the streets
from work, few days ago,
stumbling to the Métro
people pushing shoving
not a care but to tear
across the city
as quickly as they can
and for what?
a child awaits?
a lover or mate?
that’s why they push
not caring who they trip
that’s why all the rush?

thank goodness I rarely
work the days,
my evening shifts are scarcely
a fight for seats or stairs
and folks are more polite
they seem to be more aware
of life around them everywhere,

I much prefer the nights
when people share the plight
of working very late
not seeing their mate
and yet they understand
we form a hidden clan
of sorts…
the late night shifts.

and walking on the streets
the dark and lonely streets
some lit with neon
for certain trades
some dim for those
doing shady stuff…
a moment in a corner
an alley or an entrance
a single prick injected
and off they fly to nirvana
some stolen moments
take them away
from times of hopelessness

I walk the streets
so late at night
not worried of defeat
it’s always safe
when you’ve aged like me
an older woman
becomes unseen
invisible to the world,
the predators
the perverts too
don’t give me notice much,
but walking with my cane
…of late
I often fear my fate
I’d not be able to run
if one would rob my purse
poor bugger if he even tried
not much to steal in there
but I’d be lost indeed I would
to lose the memories there
of photos taken here and there
I’d miss them, that’s for sure.

I stopped a moment
on rue St-Denis
to listen to the violin
sublime to hear as sin
and later heard the saxophone
below the city streets,
Métro Berri, performs
his new platform and stage.

the streets at night
belong to them
the working girl,
the working guy,
the homeless , his domain
on every street specially at night

so, show respect when he’s in sight
he’s so discreet during the day
so day folks aren’t disturbed
but in the night, he owns the street
the rules, he understands
so walk head high
if he’s passed by you,
look him in the eye
a sign of recognition
he’s not to be ignored
a human like you and me
just hard on luck, is all
someday that could be me.

© Oliana Kim 2014/09/13

Inspired by The Streets Accept Me by Elan Mudrow at Passiontorn

my shift last night (free verse)


© C.L.R. '14 Crossing the bridge on the way home
© C.L.R. ’14 Crossing the bridge on the way home

September 11th
I left for work
with somber thoughts
under sunny skies
so warm this day
and yet, I felt
the sun should hide…

I worked‘til ten
but got a call
at nine thirty
a cry of help
so he’d not fall

he spoke of death
and days that bleed
that breath such sadness
no hope to lead
another day or week
of life and yet
he latched on long enough
to call us on the phone
to latch on life a bit…longer
he loved his folks
too much to leave
my sigh of relief
was muffled
by my shaky hand…

he drove away
guitar and dog
a while ago, so
a rode trip may
bring him bliss
he searched
and hoped
he’d bump into
nirvana dressed
in shiny bliss…
poor soul
as of it would
just kiss
him (snap) like that.

I said a quest
of such degree
is often made in haste
and mostly in despair
to search and look
around the globe
will not let joy
jump in your face

and though
this path will lead
to knowledge
of culture
and wisdom perhaps
and yet…

a hunt like this
in reality
is made within the
journey of the soul
a lifetime pursuit
you need not
do it all alone

seems to clutter minds
with cobwebs
tightly knit
deprives one clarity
distorts one’s views
on reality.

he said he’d
try to hold on more
a week or two or three
and drive back all
3 thousand miles
to get back to his folks.

getting back home last night
the moon tried to peak
through cold grey clouds
the temperature had dropped
I shivered all the way
and yet the shivers were not
from the cold
but worry and defeat, last night
not knowing if that man
would ever make it back alright.

the powerlessness
of crisis lines
not knowing at any rate
if they’re ever safe at best,
not privy to their fate.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/09/12

skin & heat (Wordless Haiku)



lovers caress
tasting the salt of their skin
crickets sing

that lingering kiss
bodies mangled in heat
hoot of an owl

© Tournesol ’14

This is my FIRST attempt at Wordless Haiku. Thanks to Jen at BlogItOrLoseIt who patiently explained what I should do and even help me edit that last line which was a toss up between horned owl hoots or owl stares.  I like that change she offered. Thank you, Jen.

The prompt this week is Skin & Heat and I like that title for my haiku serie as well.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/09/12

Mama, don’t cry (Photo challenge #25)

Sisters 25

Tom Bagshaw

Mama, why are you crying?
Is it that sleazy woman again?
I hate the way she swings those hips
looks just like a real hussy alright;
Mama, you are so much prettier you know
she has no class at all like you,
that woman does not look too smart either
snapping her Chiclets like that and all,
you always said real ladies don’t chew gum
in public that is,
Why, even Papa, said it looks like a cow chomping;
I hate it when Papa acts weird like that
you look so sad, it makes me right mad,
Mama, I love you so , please try not to think
about HER, cos it makes you too sad.

Darling, I’m fine, now don’t you worry so much.
Your father is the one who’s acting out as such
a fool and a lady’s man, he thinks it’s becoming
Why, it’s offensive and insulting
but don’t cry for me, little one,
I’ll be fine, don’t you fret none.
I don’t blame HER at all,
she is weak and did fall
for a handsome man like daddy is all.
She is none too bright,
you’re absolutely right
but don’t share any resentment
or malice with this woman;
she is single and young and a bit silly is all,
but your daddy is a family man,
has a duty to us all,
but the drink makes him do
such mindless things.
So when you go to bed tonight,
say your prayers,
your Hail Mary’s
and Our Father tonight
and don’t cry for Mama,
I’m too tired to fight
with your father ‘bout this
don’t you fret, Darling child,
Mama’ll be just fine.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/09/12

Submitted for MindLoveMiserysMenageris Photo Challenge #25 “The Other Woman”

silly hopes

Was I silly to hope
to think we could ever try?
could old loves ever cope
through the years of neglect.
Ah, each time that you speak,
I listen and wait
interpret your words, yet
nothing’s changed of late
disappointment ensues
when your foot
enters your mouth
alas, can’t make refined
out of a crude mind,
can’t make foresight
out of hindsight
when nothing is ever that clear
in such follies of yesteryear.
still with bated breath
I wait and hope
then words are spoke
your foot goes
in your mouth…again,
several times thus far,
and each end
lowering the bar
with remarks of your style
that offend, get me riled

but the saddest fact
is you never noticed a thing
your faux pas didn’t ring
any bells in your head.
you still think as you did
a quarter of century ago
and so those hopes that I had
virtually out the window.

© Oliana 2014/09/12

Come out! (Friday Fictioneers)

Copyright Janet Webb


Dominique started shaking for fear he would break down the door. She sobbed silently, having had a lot of practice crying her heart out without making a sound. She did it all through her childhood and for the past twelve years of her marriage. Her life was such a cliché, it made her sick.

She stared in the mirror and froze. The children were at camp for six weeks. It was time!

She took a backpack hidden for months at the bottom of the dirty laundry basket and climbed out the window.


Thanks to Helen Midgley's Mirror Mirror poem today that inspired me to think about that photo on Friday Fictioneers
But I was a bit confused if it was a story or a poem, so I added a poem:


he roared through the door.

silently, she sobbed

he rattled the knob

he’ll kill me this time

at least the kids are away,

but, no longer could she stay,

she looked in the glass

so tired of this morass

looked at the blade

her mind kept spinning

hands were shaking

suddenly she froze…

like an entity blocked her

an eerie feeling rose

staring at her reflection,

an odd inflection

Leave now!

out of the laundry bin

took out a backpack

she`d hidden a month ago

and climbed out the window

never to come back.

© Oliana Kim 2014/09/10

Aham (haibun)


© C.L.R. 2014

The daisy is my favourite flower. It is a simple and modest flower. It is a mixture of contradictions as well, with strength and sturdiness, standing independent and tall. The many petals representing so many facets of a personality and yet, hidden beneath are rows of yet to be discovered unknown faces.

I heard somewhere, years ago, that the daisy was too proud, always trying to ‘show up’ among other flora. So the Great Spirit sent the daisy out alone in meadows and obscure places to flourish. Ah, but the daisy still did.

I think it was not that the daisy wanted to show off its beauty but rather to show off its durability, its strength and tenacity. The determination required to flourish even out in vacant fields facing all sorts of weather…tells me that is a strong personality.

Alas, where there is strength, there is an expectation that is will last forever…it wanes with time, with age. The stems are no longer as sturdy to carry the flower and the petals start to wilt, slowly falling one by one…the daisy needs a rod or staff on which to lean. Will this proud stubborn daisy ever ask for support ?

spirited daisy
reaching for the sky
vanity wins
Mother Nature’s cruel wit
reality wins
sagging stem
no staff in sight, finally
humility rules


The price of humility is mindfulness leaning for acceptance. 

© Tournesol
marguerite animée
levée vers le ciel
vanité triomphe
esprit cruel, mère nature
vérité triomphe
tige accroupie
aucun soutien, enfin
humilité règne

© Tournesol ’14

“Aham” is a Hindi word for pride or ego.

Heeding Haiku with Ha “Aham” – MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

Posted by Oliana Kim, 2014/09/10

Truth be told (haibun)

I do enjoy the weather this time of year. I usually love to walk in parks and when I have a chance to visit my friend in Bromont, I love to walk along the fields. My only problem is my allergy to ragweed and this is the worst allergy season unfortunately until the first frost. In Montreal and surrounding areas, it is actually illegal to have ragweed growing on anyone’s property. So owners of large acres of open meadows are fined IF that weed is noticed. It works in part but it is difficult to police everywhere. At least the government tries to maintain the grassland along highways.
When I used to drive to Toronto, ( 6 hour drive) with open windows my eyes would water so much and my sinuses clog…even if I took medication. Times like this you need to have air conditioning in your vehicle or open just the sunroof open.
So it is with mix emotions I almost can’t wait for that first frost usually towards the mid to end of October, so I can reduce my allergy medication. I say reduce only because dust and many perfumed products affect me all year round.
So here is to cooler weather so we can sleep better nights with the window slightly open and eat good sweet corn.

© C.L.R. 2014


cooler weather
pleasant walks near corn fields
nasty ragweed


(c) Tournesol 2014

Submitted for:  Tackle it Tuesday #6 Veracity

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin

Wordless Wednesdays

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© C.L.R. 2014/09/07 Drive By Beauty
Posted from WordPress for Android


Mother Nature Knows Best (haibun)

My bare feet tickled by the coolness of the grass as I stood to admire the full moon. Today is the last day. It is at its fullest but, alas, there are clouds. One can see why Mother Nature planned this for such simple beings as we are, how could we possibly grasp such a powerful and illuminating moon? Yes, indeed, Mother Nature understood fully that part of this glow had to be draped by billows here and there.

The energy I inhaled looking up was quite imposing. I took in only what I could…Mother Nature knows best.

© C.L.R. 2014
© C.L.R. 2014

grey drapes
shade some of its magnitude
full moon

© Tournesol ’14

© C.L.R. 2014
© C.L.R. 2014

full moon
breathing energy in your
commanding presence.

© Tournesol ’14

Posted originally at Tournesol dans un Jardin 2014/09/09

Submitted for Carpe Diem #557 Full Moon

Tree of Life (tanka – haiku)

Tree of Life Bahrain (© Hamish Gunn)

erre le désert en explorant
serpents attardent
béni d’une présence sacrée
ramures et feuilles enlacent

the hermit
roams the desert in quest,
serpents lie in wait,
blessed with sacred presence
branches and leaves embrace
seek not alone
branches hold the leaves
ants applaud

© Tournesol 2014

Submitted for:
Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #24, Hamish Gunn’s analyzed a haiku.

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin, 2014/09/09

guiding light (haiga)

Moon behind the clouds

clouds veil my light
alone in darkness
moon peeps

Even in the deep darkness there is light along the path just around the corner.

© Tournesol 2014

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin

Inspired by my poem at Tracesofthesoul, Peek A Boo (Haiga)

Submitted for Carpe Diem #557 Full Moon

Little ones (shadorma, tyburn, haiku)


in miniature form
small scarecrow
on a stick
made to look like farmer`s tools
meant for his daughter.


trinkets for that pretty little girl
she loved  these silly, small, childish toys.


Farmer Joe
formed a smaller world
so Betty-Joe
 could stay near
always played close to the fields
he prized her presence.


child`s scarecrow
planted in the parsley patch
a butterfly rests

(c) Oliana Kim 2014/09/09

MindlovemiserysMenagerie A little One

passions (senryû – erotic)


waits at the bar
saxophone drones sultry notes
smoke-filled room

second set
piano man leads
goddess appears

swaying hips
piano paused, strings whined
table for two

red heart shaped lips
pressed against his neck
slow dancing

ivory keys ripple
hand on the small of her back
pulls her closer

warm breath
whispers pleas in her ear
pressed against him

last song
silent passions
cry for more

© Oliana Kim, 2014/09/09

Exactly one year ago, I wrote a poem inspired by a song, Slow Dancing by John Mayer – Erotic Contemplation, Sept 2, 2013

autumn leaves (haiku)

They never crossed paths
but gazed from a distance
he gawked, she teased

on sunny days
her robe would open slightly
sultry breeze

sparrows chirped
readied for that dreamlike time

in hopes, he’d stare
tried to peak through branches
moonlight gaze

long summer nights
hot summer nights, she would moan
crickets sang

sudden breeze
branches swaying giving view
 old owl hoots

sleepless nights
he stood in wait, hoped to see
through rustling leaves

then autumn came
she shook her hair sensually
red and gold shreds fell

he sighed
saddened he’d not had a chance
to feel her softness
ripened foliage and sturdy sprigs
resigned to rest through winter.

poor Mister Maple
would have to wait ‘til Spring
and dazzle his sweet Elm

© Oliana Kim 2014/09/09

Inspired by the phrase “winter shakes out her hair” at Blogitorloseit, Autumn Leaves a haiku written to a prompt Autumn Leaves at Carpe Diem Time Glass challenge

message in the sky (haibun)

This is certainly going to be a challenge with the 12 hour time frame and our time difference but so far, I have not missed the boat…Carpe Diem Time Glass, challenging new feature


The very first thing that comes to mind seeing this sky is a memory of early childhood where I truly believed my grandparents who flew down south would drop a postcard on their way and it mysteriously fell in my backyard. Why would I not believe this tale since my father would come into the house, pretending to be out of breath, shouting, “Come see, kids, a special card from Nanny and Grandpa was delivered by a jet.”

So in the eye of that child that still lives and breathes inside me:

not so fast!
Nanny may miss my house
autumn leaves

as an adult, I acquiesce…

it’s time
writing is in the sky
autumn leaves

acorn nuts
squirrels working overtime
autumn leaves

© Tournesol 2014

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin


My original Story about this memory: Skies of wonder

bare branch (haiga)

(c) C.L.R, 2014
(c) C.L.R, 2014

perfect sunny day
twisting apples off a branch
a caterpillar snores

praying for clumsy hands
a worm smiles at the child.

basket full
naked branch safe for some leaves
 dogs wrestle

(c) Tournesol 2014

(c) Cl..R. 2014
(c) Cl..R. 2014


Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin

Haiku Horizons – Branch


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what happens to a love
when aging gets involved?
what happens when aging
ravages lovely minds causing
moments of confusion
lapses turn into delusion
moments turn to a day
a day turns into a week
til’ your loved one’s gone astray
daily tasks turn into sneak
previews of a horror movie
losing your partner to a disease
ten times worse than scurvy
eating up memoirs that use to please
you when recalling together
those special moments
never regained ever ever?
What happens?
this man stuck it out
goes daily like
a regular paper route
visiting, feeding,
holding her hand
kissing, minouching
being the lover
he was when things were grand.
That is what we call
a true love first-rate
glad mom did fall
upon this great life mate
How many would stand
by for years and years
not knowing who you are?
He did, that’s who.
So glad he did.
Watching him feed
her today warmed my heart
meeting her nutritional need
and adding an extra part
to make things right
that extra Häagen-Dazs
gelato delight.


© Oliana Kim 2014/09/07


raw destruction (haiku)


hostile clouds

thundering torrential rage

acquiesce in despair



 Gales swept them far away as the vicious  storm quenched  insatiable greed


fly quivers

whirlwind rips a day’s labour

the spider mourns


© Tournesol 2014

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin

Written for Heeding Haiku with Ha at Mindlovemiserysmenagerie to the following music:

spirits rest (haiga)

Submitted for Carpe Diem #555 Cemetery

From a Dictionary of Haiku by Jane Reichold here are are some of Jane’s haiku on this theme:

sleeping peacefully
the Best Western Motel
by the cemetery

grave marker
as a cradle headboard
rest in peace

abandoned cemetery
iron keys cross the ground
no one going in

© Jane Reichhold

I have chosen mostly photos from Notre Dame des Neiges Cemetery in Montréal, where there is a huge family tombstone on a plot, my great-grandfather O’Donnell had purchased. My aunt told me that he had allowed several friends who could not afford a plot to be buried here. My grandparents and my father are here.


Notre Dame des Neiges Cemetery Montréal, Qc.

dansant toute la nuit
auberge des biens heureux
Grand-papa rigole

pierre familiale
crie les noms de les ancêtres
hommage sacré
plus d’un siècle d’irlandais
jig au violon des séraphins

family tomb
cries the names of ancestors
sacred homage
a century of Irish folks
jig to the seraphim’s strings

©Tournesol 2014

veiled in weeds and wild flowers
spirits moan

©Tournesol 2014

Notre Dame des Neiges Montréal, Qc.

spirits gather
soon it will be Hallow’s Eve
fox lookout

©Tournesol 2014

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un Jardin 2014/09/07

autumn glow (haibun)


Three days of rest, and just as I was about to take the bus to do my groceries, my son phones.  He offers to drive me to do my errands and I can make him dinner…nice tradeoff, I thought!    I took advantage of his car to get bigger items and knowing he does not mind eating late…we sat down with pleasant discussions of his new teaching position over a five course meal.

It was nice to dig out some French  books I had purchased for my grandson when he was younger …some fairy tales, some educative and lend them to him for his Grade One class, teaching French as a second language.

I offered to buy him a French book on children’s haiku but that was pushing my stuff a little too far. (grins)  As I ran out to give him the leftovers he had forgotten, I could not help but notice that huge shining moon tonight. Oh my!, I thought, I just may be able to catch a shot if I go in the back yard and I had company…


© C.L.R, '14
© C.L.R, ’14

in the glow
of moonbeams
insects dart

the full moon
bids my guest farewell
a spider rests

that winning smile
feel blessed tonight
beams at me

©  Tournesol ’14

Posted by Oliana Kim, 2014/09/07
Traces of the soul

Submitted for Carpe Diem Sparkling Stars #4 The Autumn Full Moon

Here are haiku written by 2 masters:

meigetsu ya ike o megurite yo mo sugara

the autumn full moon:
all night long
I paced round the lake.

© Bashothe night deepens
darker and darker the sky
without the streetlights
the night sky looks like a light show
the full moon and thousands of stars

© Chèvrefeuille

tears of joy
spilled into the old pond -
the moon’s reflection

© Chèvrefeuille

triangles choke

triangles that bind;
hurt, help, heal

my pen tries
to appeal
hurt, help, heal

which is it?

an interesting

victim, bystander, doer
bystander’s blinders
may party the doing
victim`s fear and shame
may add prolongation
continued duration
perpetual humiliation

shame prevents healing
shame prevents prevention
doer`s fear and shame
the odd victim gets help
bystander may get help
tending defensive wounds
doers rarely helped
more often accused
shamed, defamed
life no longer
can be reclaimed
society needs to learn
each side
of this triangle
preventing suffering
again and again.

preventing exploitation
again and again
preventing triangulation
preventing needless pain.

when will we try to gain
access to understandings
three-sided history
all-inclusive story
will some day
make true history

Reading an interesting article today about teen pedophiles who want to get help before becoming doers,  by Luke Malone at,  has moved me…no, it`s haunted me with so many memories of stories I heard in the past. Some are stories from friends, family…many from disclosures of anonymous callers from the victim, bystander and the doer. All three need help…the latter often start talking, I applaud their courage to share, assure their anonymity …and sometimes we can talk for a long time…but rarely does this happen…sometimes it is the first admission of a problem….then “click”. Perhaps that was a first step or many first baby steps.  Sometimes I have a hard time listening…I feel I am all three parts of the triangle with so many mixed emotions.

I bleed for the child who may or has been abused

I imagine as a mother and spouse to a doer and the rage and disappointment in a love that would be crushed.

Then I imagine I am the mother of a youth who is struggling with these demons and wants them exorcised …and I know I will love my child unconditionally…and worry with him or her with this affliction they never asked to receive…and I surprise myself as I start weeping for these mothers and pray their love will support their child, teen, adult child.

I had a call last year that troubled me for several days and nights. Writing poetry helped me during those sleepless nights, help shed tears for victims of sexual abuse and exploitation; helped feed my anger and disgust at the doer and once that was all said and done…I did a complete turnaround…I shocked myself…to this day, I feel it was a majour change in my personal and professional life. I felt compassion for this repetitive sex offender…I mourned his suicide and grieved with his child.

We need to be trained better for our service is anonymous and one of the only safe places to help…why are there not any other safe lines like this in the world…we don’t have call display and we cannot trace calls…where are the other helplines like this?

I felt sadness and regret that we live in a society that is not learned enough, trained enough to help doers who actually want to stop…to prevent thinkers from becoming doers…to offer help to doers who want to feel accepted once in a treatment programme rather than finger-pointing, treated as the slithering snake (I`ve used that term many times to doers who feed on their illness rather than get help)…if we continue to point fingers on snakes who want to be transparent and get help, it will crawl back under that rock of perpetual hell.  How can that help?

© Oliana 2014/09/07

Related article: You’re 16. You’re a pedophile. You don’t want to hurt…

Meadow Maiden (haibun)


© MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Prompt 24 Fairytale

Flora listened intently to her sister explain the facts of life. She was a woman now at the ripe old age of twelve! She would be able to breed if ever a procreator came sniffing around. Now THAT was what the danger of becoming a woman.

Desirée wanted to protect her little sister. Their mother had died at the birth of Flora and since Desirée was already twelve, the responsibility of raising her sister fell on her. Their father never stayed long enough after each “act” of procreation …he was the Procreator in chief grooming males with certain characteristics who were qualified to copulate young maidens for the sole purpose of breeding.

Maidens had to be between the ages of 10 and 16. Any other sordid sexual intimacy was considered animalistic and these people were usually turned in by neighbours and sometimes even family. They would be sent to the land of steel and iron to work in factories and mines forever.  The reward to denounce such offenders was eligibility to live in a nicer home, with two servants and fruit and vegetables for the rest of their lives.

Flora asked her sister, “So how does the seed get to fertilize my egg?”

Desirée blushed and drew a sketch of the male and female anatomy in two segments, Before and After.

Flora looked at her with doe eyes…there was a long pause, then she burst out laughing.

“Ah, Dez, you are such a riot!!! You crack me up! Now why on earth would a procreator put his instrument he uses to relieve himself of liquids into my secret tunnel. Really! Enough fairy tales, Dez, I need to know the truth…go on now!”

Her sister repeated this solemnly, “There are some ways that the chosen can wave this humiliation but we are not of that class, I’m afraid.”

Flora stared open-mouthed at her sister, “Do you mean to say that you have stooped to this disgusting behaviour many times?!”

Desirée looked down, ashamed of her past acts. She suddenly closed her books and stored her drawings back into her satchel. She was now an instructor for young maidens. They called this Sonday school…for the goal and hope was to carry a male species. Most maidens prayed to carry a male so their daughters would never have to go through this humiliation. Desirée did not like this duty cursed on these maidens and if it were not for her accepting to teach and groom young maidens, she would also still be subjected to this act of copulation for the purpose of an offspring. Now she was free of all these duties provided she groomed a minimum of 4 maidens a year.

She felt a bit guilty that training her little sister would also be counted as one of the four maidens. It did feel like exploitation but the alternative would be that she accept to be manipulated at the hands of theses procreators.   She sighed and looked discouraged.

Flora knew her sister well, and realized that this must be true since it was affecting her so emotionally.

“Well, then, I will just have to run away. So there!” she crossed her arms and stuck out her chin.

Desirée said, “You could never get away from these people, Flora. You are talking nonsense. You can become a trainer like me after four procedures…unless…”

“Yes, yes, tell me, please Desirée, I cannot bear to allow these animals do this to me.”

She went on to explain to Flora there was the enchanted meadow on the other side of the lake. No one that she knew had ever crossed that lake due to the dangerous fish with razor teeth but there might be a way.

Flora listened intently to her sister’s idea of floating on a raft after midnight when all the guards were in another section of the county. In this meadow there lay a giant maiden who had been sleeping for well over a hundred years if not more. She came from the Land of Volonté.  Centuries ago, humans were twenty times bigger because they were permitted to live in world of love and freedom.

But, then the planet was at risk of flooding if these giants were not destroyed. Smaller humans thought it was their size that was caused holes in the sky and melting the ice lands and destroyed all vegetation. So they got together…all the counties of little people and created a nuclear gas they put in the lake where the people of Volonté bathed daily. The toxins penetrated through their skin and once the virus was acquired, it became airborne. Within a month all the citizens perished except for this Meadow maiden. She was the daughter of a prophet and the virus simply put her into a coma. No one understood but no one dared come close to her for fear of catching the virus.

However many older women shared this story among females ONLY, that any female touching this sleeping maiden would be protected from any sexual exploitation. If a maiden was not in love with the person who had the intention of copulation there would be dire consequences. Any aggressor or certified procreator would not be able to stand being near her within five feet. If he approached her he would smell a foul scent and any closer he would feel an electric surge go through him and then POOF disappear.

There WAS hope after all…

robbed of freewill
mislead men controlled the land
lacking compassion.

lacking compassion
oppression will always lose
kindness rules.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/09/06

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