fallen (haiga)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

© Clr 2014
© Clr 2014

Fallen leaves,
needy for fertile grounds
geese honk
~
naked tree,
defensive and forlorn
squirrel on a wire
~
loneliness
besieged by barren trees,
 unwelcome guest

© Tournesol ’14

Sunday Scribblings 2

Three Word Wednesday

Carpe Diem Special #114, Shiba Sonome’s 4th “longing for someone”

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Longing (haiku)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

wistfully
stirring her cup of tea,
milk curdles
~
weeping salty tears,
pillow case no longer
carries his scent

© Tournesol ’14

Carpe Diem Special # 113, Shiba Sonome’s 4th “longing for someone”

View original

death and beyond (haiga)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

Indian Summer – Québec

OurGhost Writer at Carpe Diem today is Gary Gay and our inspiration is October as the first full autumn month. I love that that photo chosen with vibrant colours is in Québec and near the Richelieu River where I raised my family.

Gary asks us to “Think outside the Box” when you use Halloween topics. It can be a good source of humour as well. Here is his example of thinking outside the box or misdirection.

My skeleton

going for a walk

in the cemetery © Gary Gay

The poem has a subject of death and yet Gary’s skeleton is still alive.

Here is my attempt in both languages in honour of that lovely autumn photo in Québec dans la Vallée du Richelieu

© Heavenly Tranquility – Flickr

mains en prière
parlant à GrandPapa,
lui! sait m’écouter

~

hands clasped,
speaking to GrandPapa…

View original 220 more words

Mother Earth’s quilt (haiga)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

Our host has posted music to inspire us. I don’t know about you but fairies, leprechauns and angels keep fluttering in my mind’s eye.  Perhaps it is the Irish in me for I do love Celtic music and this piece brings me close to my Irish roots on Ballybunion. I am not much of a fairy tale writer as you may have noticed in my other blog I wrote for the Lavender Lady at MLMM prompt. My children told me while they were growing up all the bedtime stories, I invented when tucking them in, were not subtle enough…all had a morale to the tale and they quickly figured it out.  . Well, what do you want with a mom who is a counsellor and family life educator?  But I do remember one tale of the rabbit with those long droopy ears and that extra tall giraffe who were…

View original 172 more words

rainforest concerto (tanka)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

Maui Hawaii

The Time Glass  prompt today at Carpe Diem  Valley Stream, is to use the haiku composed by your host AND the photo of a waterfall.  It was tempting to complete this into a tan renga but he did mention a “solo” renga or a tanka.  I could not help but notice the waterfall was a photo in Maui, Hawaii. When I saw the last line of our host, “the silence” I thought of birds singing being masked by the sounds of gurgling streams OR the roar of the waterfalls.

I wanted to include birds from Hawaii and liked the sounds of the honeycreepers such as ‘l’iwi , hearing several examples on Youtube. I wanted to add the name of a tree that these birds inhabit and fell upon the Ohia lehua tree.  Well, that brought me to a legend and Carpe Diem is keen on legends and stories.

View original 209 more words

river heals (Tan Renga)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

Such a lovely prompt today at Carpe Diemto 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…

View original 146 more words

soothing tea (haiku)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

I love sipping tea in porcelain tea cups. My great aunt bequeathed her collections to my father and I now have them in the same curio my Auntie Mae O’Donnell had. Although the tradition is on my Father’s side, my aunt being Irish, my mother taught me how to brew my tea as young as five. She would let me drink it in espresso cups which was just right for my tiny fingers.

My grandson loved to drink tea as well and would choose his tea cup whenever it was tea time. One day I invited my friend and her daughter who was grandson`s playdate. Well! I set up their tea cups with the tea pot brewing their tea. Ah, the cute things they do at five. I doubt he would want to even admit doing this now that he is 10.

I had a dear friend living next door…

View original 144 more words

lost at sea (haiku)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

 lost at sea,
fog horns prevent collisions,
lighthouse guides ships home

(c) Tournesol ’14

Carpe Diem “the Lighthouse of Alexandria”

View original

season’s end (haiku)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

(haiku)

fallen leaf
led by destiny’s flow
season’s end

© Tournesol ’14
visit also Tournesol dans un Jardin at Blogspot

Frédéric Chopin – Classique, Sonata no.9

View original

Dear Emma,

Dear Emma,

I have finally installed 2 mouse traps and feel so guilty because they won’t kill the little critter but will hurt it. So then when I hear SNAP! what do I do then? I don’t want to kill it. Now if Bette hunted and ate it, it would be just nature, right? But If I do, what does that make me? Oh dear! Bette has not slept in 3 night, guarding the doors where she “thinks” the critter is.

I took the day off today. My landlord was supposed to come and block the holes under my sink and counter where the critters DO sneak in. But he did not realize the hole was that big. He will come back tomorrow.

I am glad I took today off…I am tired of late. I feel the season washing over me and soon I may sink deep if I am not careful. And so, I take care of my MOI…take a day off here and there. I miss not seeing my mom though. I don’t have a car and can’t bus there. I wish I did not have to ask. My son and daughter are too busy with their lives I suppose. So I must check into renting a car perhaps this weekend to visit Mom and perhaps my best friend in the country. I miss socializing a bit…but I don’t miss it enough to stop writing. Writing and writing haiku makes me happy…it IS really an addiction but what the heck, it is not a danger to my health and only enriches my soul.

I wrote a few prompts at Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie tonight. The prompts spoke to me and I wondered if I should go with the flow…well, I did. Perhaps sharing a bit too much but it felt right.

Nite, Emma, thanks for listening.

© Oliana 2014/10/21

family secrets (free verse)

Pandora's Box Wikipedia
Photo prompt – Pandora’s Box – for Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie

Don’t ask me
you don’t really
want to know
all the gory details
of our past.

why do you ask?
I have shared once
and you hushed me,
not to tell your husband…
my cousin…
were you ashamed
to tell the truth
of his godfather?

why must these secrets
perpetuate?
It boggles my mind
people of YOUR kind.
keep it all hush hush
you and your parenting style
not wanting to call things as they are
hiding behind the face of
Victorian secrets…

why do you ask me to disclose,
when…
you pretend to be my friend
but what your really want
is control…
to know what should
or should not
be discussed
at the dinner table…
what IF I open up
that Pandora’s Box?

Not to worry,
my dear cousin in law…
I shall not divulge
the ugly truths
of the family
in which you have wed…
not to worry, I shall
put the truth to bed.

if only you knew
of all the other cousins
and aunties than you do notwish
to acknowledge…
that could share the same
stories I hold in this
Pandora’s Box…

If only you knew
that secrets
only prolong the abuse.

But , my lips are sealed
I shan’t say one more thing…

I pity your ignorance
your false pride
and modesty…
but I do love you both
and would not strain
our connection
and shall not divulge
any more concoctions
of our family’s sordid past…

…the box is sealed forever.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/10/21

tu me manque, Maman Colombe!

Liberty 31
Photo Challenge #30 Liberty at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

Maman,

que tu me manques…

I miss you so much!

Do you remember when you would listen to me

tell my stories…go on and on and on

and you seemed so interested.

Your patience, your eyes wide open with interest

wrapped me with such a blanket of assurance.

That was the year you thought it was safer

for me and Kim to live with GrandMaman.

I loved it there but I did miss Daddy,

I don’t know why but I just did.

The stories I heard you and GrandMaman,

Uncle Fernand and Ma Tante Hélène whisper,

I knew I should be afraid of him but I never remembered

any bad things during those years.

I was lucky … my psyche

erased it all from my memories…forever.

I remember when GrandPapa died that year…

I used to sit and hold his hand for hours

… well maybe it was mintues

but for a six year old it felt like hours.

I remember his smile, Mom, when you

and your brothers and sisters

knelt around his death bed

praying, weeping…

I tiptoed in the doorway

and GrandPapa smiled at me,

he was lying propped with pillows

with a facecloth on his forehead,

He died several minutes later.

I remember how Dad came back to you

at the cemetery when GrandPapa was buried…

I kept asking you if he was heaven yet…

But, he was not the fun daddy anymore.

He had joined AA and he was impatient, bitter

and mean. He called me mean names too many times.

I think I liked him better when he would drink

those big long necked bottles of brew I would

get for him in the back of the door at GrandMaman’s.

At least we danced to Lawrence Welk and he didn’t

call me “J.C. you’re stupid!”

I remember when you cried for months and months

when he admitted to cheating on you

You played those Connie Francis records for months…

the blinds always closed and it was no fun

coming home from school then Mom.

Although I felt bad for you, I still hated coming home.

I remember your look of guilt and pain

when I came back from that trip in Toronto,

when I visited Dad. I felt so bad…

you were right …

I should never have gone to visit him alone.

I remember when you met Fred

at his 25 years of military service

and you both created a Love Story.

He loved you so much, I had no choice

but to put my jealousy aside

and love him too.

He loved me like a “real” father.

He paced the floor when I gave birth to Oli and Ani.

You were there for me at both births and helped

me bathe them because I kept feeling weak and getting

hot and sweaty when I had just come back from hospital.

I remember when I left my husband

and you were so angry with me!

I know now that you were just worried about me…

you come from a generation where you “think” women

need a man to survive.

I remember when you came to visit me in Toronto

and finally said,“I wish I had had the courage

you had at your age and made a life for myself”

You were so proud of me.  I was finally “FREE”!

Even in your dementia,

I remember giving you a bubble bath

and you thought I was a social worker

and you said, “You are nice like my daughter.

She helps children who are abused.

She is so smart.”

I remember, Mom, and I still feel your love and miss you

so much, Maman, Colombe.

© Oliana Kim 2014/10/21

 

Colombe is my mother’s real name and translated

it means DOVE like the caged dove you s ee in this photo.

Mom has always been my strength and my love. I am who I am today

through her love, the strength of her mother (GrandMaman) and the

unconditional  love of her and her parents.

Submitted for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Prompt #30 Liberty

self-taught (monologue)

weheartit.com
weheartit.com

“Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.”  Oscar Wilde

I remember when I finally got my degree after nine years of part time studies raising a family and working at 2 to 3 part-time jobs to pay my expenses. That piece of paper was what society insisted I have. Big deal! What have I learned? I learned to be more patient. I learned that some people will NEVER learn in books what one learns through experience.

One of our last classes was Human Sexuality. I had pretty much been consistent in my research. So far I was trying to find ways to help give tools to victims of child sexual abuse. If they knew what to look for, if they knew they could trust their gut instinct, it might…just might save one case of child sexual abuse…most times, incestual. We don’t use that term anymore at work by the way. That used to irk me but then I understood why they call it ALL sexual assault or abuse. Calling it “incest” makes it seem less serious…hello! it is probably worse because the victim has to continue living in that same fkcing family and it get so complicated. There exists a “love/hate” relationship with the perpetrator.

Moving along, so this Human Sexuality class was interesting. One week we had a transgendered person disclose. He was actually a student and then one night he went up front and facilitates that lecture on transgender issues. I liked him so much. I wondered why I thought he was such a perfect a guy…well, he was a mom before he became a guy. But it was interesting how he discovered that being a guy opened up SO many doors for employment. Okay, that is sort of annoying. It enraged me for a while until I realized that all I ever wanted to do with my life was help people and that is pretty much more a career choice for predominantly women.

Another week we had a woman who was in her mid thirties. She was a sexual assault counsellor and life insisted she get a degree to actually help victims. But her story just boggled me. Well, since then, with my 20+ years of experience, in this field, I realize it is not so rare.
She was 9 years old, she shared, and her family doctor discovered she had gonorrhea. Her mother was offered the choice to choose her daughter or her boyfriend. Yep, she chose her boyfriend. And so, this child was raised in foster care by the state.

During her lecture, there was a break, and I overheard some “more fortunate” individuals who seemed to live on cushy clouds in their past, snickering, “I can’t stand this lecture tonight. I can’t believe we have to be exposed to this. I cannot even believe it happens that often.” I wanted to punch her in the face. It took everything to hold back my anger…I wanted to ask that woman who made those comments, “Why the hell are you in this programme to begin with? Is it just to pass the time as the kiddies have grown up and you are looking to fill the void? Well, LADY, let me tell you…don’t fkcing even try to work in the REAL world. Shit happens and that is what life is! You try to help mend the broken spirits.”

But I did not say anything and just fumed in my frustration. Fortunately, in this particular programme, we HAD to journal our thoughts and feelings after each class. So I vented and my counsellor/professor “got it”.

That year I graduated and did my internship at a clinic across the street. I was running a group of woman and stress. Each person was screened by the secretary to ensure if they had “majour” problems that they were at least, in individual therapy. So one woman in the group had been sexually assaulted by her psychiatrist {please do NOT tell me that it is rare for professionals to cross the line! It was not rare in the 70’s and 80’s}. She skipped two classes and after 2 I am supposed to call the participants to ask if they are okay and if they still want to continue in the programme.

Her response astonished me. She told me her bulimia has kicked in again as there was something said in my last group that triggered something. I learned real quick to process the last twenty minutes before ending a group after that internship. But it’s what she said afterwards that stunned me. “ Je sais tu comprends dont je parles concernant mon abus.” {I know that you understand very well relating to my sexual abuse.” I was silent for a long pause…don’t know to this day how long but it floored me that she had a sixth sense too…something I thought was a fluke I had inherited. But nope, my abuse developed a special antennae and she sensed my past too without my EVER disclosing.

Earlier, on my very first group I asked my mentor if I could be a participant rather than an observer. That group was Women who Love too much, like the book by Robin Norwood. Most of the women there were in abusive relationships but they preferred to live 3 days of HIGH’s in one month and the rest of abuse and neglect. One woman was fortyish and she felt she was frigid and it made her sad. I had a feeling listening to her story and offered to share something about my past. When I finished disclosing my abuse with my father, she said, “I remember now, I had an uncle when I was eleven….” She was so relieved that there was a reason for her problem. We eventually referred her to a different group but I will never forget my phone call with her. She thanked me for unleashing something she never realized was hidden.

My mentor thanked me for my courage and told me, “You know, you really didn’t have to do that.” No, I didn’t but I had a feeling and I went with it because I thought it might help. I was right. I never learned THAT in books. Life happened … in the process it turned “icky” things into something beautiful and helpful . I am fortunate that sometimes I can use this gift.

© Oliana Kim 2014/10/21

Submitted for MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie – Prompt Oscar Wilde Quote

she purrs like a cat (free verse)

© Clr '14
© Clr ’14

she purrs like a cat
she meows like a cat
she snuggles,
rubs her furry body
on your legs like a cat,
she eats my plants like some cats,
loves to get petted…
scratched behind her ears
…all like a CAT
but she CANNOT HUNT like a cat!!
I fear she is a princess
of Siberian heritage
she seems to want to play with that thing
that makes me jump when I see it,
makes me scream like a girly girl!!
that thing that runs so quickly I cannot
catch…sigh!…and so I sleep with the lights on
until this itsty bitsy tiny creature
is out of my home.

© Oliana Kim, 14/10/21

pays Bleu Lavande

I rarely write fairy tales but this Fairytale prompt  #30 spoke to me at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

Photo by Kristy Mitchell

They say that when you die, the heart stops, all brain activity ceases, hence you also stop breathing on your own. We all know that there are “lives” after physical death but they differ depending in which camp you grew up, who brainwashed you or you were led to believe as a conscious and intelligent adult, what happens after you die.

There are not that many, I am afraid that are familiar with le pays Bleu Lavande. It overlooks the Kookum* Mountain, in the Mauve region. It rains only at night, and it NEVER snows. Yes, indeed, this is the what we call le quartier trois-saisons. Spring, Summer and Autnew (short for AutoRenewal). The latter season being the shortest. It used to take longer but in the dawn of technology, even the heavens slipped into temptation. Why not? That way the lavender fairy, Mauve, is allotted one month between seasons to get out of the musty archives and run free like the other lucky mortal souls.

Bleu Lavande – Fitch Bay, Eastern Townships, Quebec

She is long overdue for a rest as you can see in this photo. {sigh!} She is somewhat of a tax collector, working for Revenue Lavande. She decides who is accepted to run freely in the meadows of lavender and who need to be diverted to other places like Laurier Rose*, the overcrowded Hell, swarming Purgatory and Heaven, but the latter is not she who decides. Those who can go straight to Heaven by-pass all the other worlds. Now back to pays Bleu Lavande.

Indian Yellow Oleander Shrub

Mauve greets freshly dead people and recognizes the scent of innocents and the scent of exploiters. Some men and women arrive at her field of lavender as teens,  middle age, older adults or even young children BUT if they were victims of any kind of abuse, they magically resume the look of that youthful person in body, shape and age. If, however the person is a misfit who did cause any abuse and destroyed the innocence of children, that person is automatically sent to Laurier Rose…no need to overcrowd Hell.

Laurier Rose is set also on a hill but not as majestic as Kookum*. It has several ponds where there is settled water and many many mosquitos who travelled from West Nile; there are many beehives and farmers who make honey for the inmates of Laurier Rose. And they all must live on honey, leaves and stems of this plant and pond water. Naturally, most do not live very long and it is never overpopulated.
At pays Bleu Lavande you see children running through meadows, laughing, smiling and embraced by the love bestowed at Kookum Mountain like the warmth and love of a grandmother.

© Oliana Kim, ’14/10/20

Bleu Lavande – Fitch Bay, Quebec

*Kookum = grandmother in Cree
*quartier trois saisons = three season region
*Laurier Rose= RoseBay or Oleander

According to NYTimes Health Guide: Oleander poisoning occurs when someone sucks nectar from the flowers or chews leaves from the oleander or yellow oleander plant. Poisoning can also happen if you eat honey made by bees that used the oleander plant for nectar.

For My Friend Oliana Kim – Free Verse – October 19, 2014

Oliana @Tracesofthesoul:

A friend in need, i
ndeed
understands
an ocean away s
till trying to keep
my mouse at bay:)

Originally posted on Bastet and Sekhmet's Library:

Kandinsky_couple-riding-1906under a soft feathery sea
of a grey duvet on a cold day …
she dreamt of a handsome prince
and long sweet pony-back rides …

oh how difficult t’was to rise,
so lovely and warm she felt inside
until squeaky squeaks were heard!

jumped she from paradise
to chase a mouse around the house
coming back to stark reality!

if only that hooty owl,
that screeched in her reveries,
would join the chase right now –
for her kitty stayed abed
under the grey feather sea
enjoying her warm autumn nap.
her only alternative you see
without owls or cats or princes …
was a humble,
peanut butter
trap!

Written for Oliana Kim at Traces of The Soul

View original

Dear Emma,

I sit here and hear the cries of my neighbour’s  Spaniel. He is surely traumatized having passed an entire year where the owners were never there…off to Europe on some work contract. Only a neighbor now and then or the landlord would take him out. So sad to hear unhappy animals with undeserving owners. I suppose it’s like parents who think it is their “right” to parent when it is, in fact, a privilege.

My previous post made me smile as I was composing it. I had mentioned to my friend Georgia from Bastet and Sekhmet that Klimt had been inspired by Kandinsky and she had written a lovely post , Shades of Kandinsky. It is interesting how wild and eccentric Kandinsky’s art is and yet Klimt in later years created softer forms but the colours in his paintings are exquisite and perhaps that was the influence of Kandinsky.
I felt warm and loved and beautiful for a moment, Emma, as I reminisced of times a decade ago. How time has passed with so many mixed emotions since that affair and yet, since only short lived heartaches.

I’ve met darkness, joy, death, birth of another generation, emptiness, gloom and the slow death of mom’s mind; I’ve met compassion in its truest form and feel more in tune with my spirituality. Why then, if I’ve met peace and goodness do I still battle the darkness? It is separate from my work for there is joy and sadness each day as I hear of abuse and then smile when one shares their first crush or asks “ What if he wants to kiss me?”

Yes, my work is reality …good, bad and the grey in between and as I mentioned in another post, I prefer to say a pearly grey for there is hope and radiance in that tone.

I suppose it is being halfway past autumn and soon the colour will disappear and the darkness overtake with bare trees and shorter days. I found a lovely piece by Chopin I think fits my mood just about now, Emma. Thanks for listening… Oliana

This is such a lovely piece that it inspired me to write a haiku…

(haiku)

fallen leaf
led by destiny’s flow
season’s end

© Tournesol ’14

visit also Tournesol dans un Jardin
also Tournesol at Blogspot

Frédéric Chopin – Classique, Sonata no.9

“The Kiss” Gustav Klimt

© Clr `13

I discovered this artist in a 1991 movie, where the main character was giving his lover, Julia Roberts,  history of the art of Gustav Klimt.  A former lover gave me a reproduction of “The Kiss” and a vase made in Spain

© Clr `14 - The Kiss by Gustav Klimt
© Clr `14 – The Kiss by Gustav Klimt

I looked at this painting by Klimt for years,
used to dream of spending an entire night like this
in the arms of my lover, a warm embrace,
tasting soft lips,  that perfect tender kiss…
a former lover offered this painting “The Kiss”
as a gift on my 50th birthday
cherishing how I could spend hours
dancing to sultry music, breathing kisses
feeling the heat of his breath
on my neck and my shoulder,
lifting me on his two feet…

Ah, I was slight, then
at barely five foot eight
wearing only size eight

sweeping me off my feet
mon amant, my love mate,
holding me closer to his chest,
looking  into my eyes
I was mesmerized
ah yes, “The Kiss”…
makes me reminisce
of fantasies I’d once craved
since that film in ninety-one
now true deeds,
fond recollections
shall not forget, of times passed
such sweet memories
will forever last…
even though I still miss
that tender warm kiss.

© Oliana Kim, `14/10/18

 Dying Young – Gustave Klimt

Getting in shape (SoCS – free verse)

Well I was looking for a prompt, a photo or something for an excuse to just write or bitch or vent. So I thought of checking out Linda’s blog for SoCS and “shape” is a pretty fun word to play with. I am quite relieved I can stop shopping now and just go with the flow…

Shape
I’m not in
the greatest shape
or frame of mind
this lovely sunny autumn weekend,
week of abuse and exploitation
sexual assault and desperation
unspoken truths
newly disclosed
no longer whispering
icky secrets…
relieving hearts, minds and souls
at last they may even start
to get in better emotional shape;
hopefully this may be a start
of shaping up and getting help
but then again,
help comes in  different shapes and sizes,
professional, free and confidential
but anonymity is still the best!
it bothers me to hear some stories
I know will never change their lot
can only help them learn to live
endure unhealthy living homes,
accepting that they’ll rarely change
shapes of abusive caregivers…
can’t change the way they think or act
but maybe, I can help these youths
change their reaction
towards their folks
who tend to be much too demanding;
they could surround themselves
with positive, caring
and helpful friends
encouraging them
to keep their minds
in healthier shape…
it’s not a miracle
I know that much
but I have to hope
may cause a dent
to help them cope.

© Oliana Kim, Oct 18/14

The Friday Reminder for SoCS – “Shape” with Linda G Hill

Crashing Cranes (free verse)

MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie – Paper Cranes

tables cleared
of tasteless meals
music purrs
 archaic reels
chess board set
 at window seats
young and old
 no difference here
myriad time
old fools may check
but seasoned vets
know better yet.

Garde Louise
calls out “craft time”
several follow
like cattle do
herded in to
craft some art.

artsty tools
paint brushes too
easels, clay
and water colours

Marc  sets his easel
brushing strokes
of black on black,
mirrors of his darkened soul
shaded over many years
with spiked grape juice
apple, orange,
they`re all the same
tasteless food
bland juices too.

Sylvie sits crocheting bonnets
blues and pinks and yellows too
trying to erase the past
justice for missed-carriages

Émile who’d battled
so far away
a brave peacekeeper
now led astray
 since coming back
a little rattled
he witnessed things
no human should
and now he dreams
in living colour
and drinks his juice
no one the wiser.

today he sits
with shiny paper
gold and silver
 building fragile
paper cranes
with yellowed fingers
from nicotine
his mind may linger
and flash a scene
then cranes come crashing
all over the floor
until Garde Louise
will start to pour
some orange juice
of moody blues
and rainbow cranes.

© Oliana Kim, ’14-10-18

Photo Challenge #30 Crashing Cranes at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

Black swan (free verse)

Black Swan

Black swan
pulls me back
with surging
emotions black
filled with despair
searing for reprieve
writing seems to be
my only breaks
between times I
feel such pain
in mind and soul
watching the bitter ache
constant struggle
not to eat any sweet cake
bathroom scenes
remind me only
of constant fight
they live sans food
body image and the rude
awakening that life
without purpose
but mostly lacking
spiritual meaning
is dying a little each day
no matter how you try
no matter
how much they hurt
cut, starve, burn,
you will never get the part
you have craved
with all your heart
until you find your way.

(c) Oliana Kim ’14-10-17
Inspired by the movie Black Swan…only watched 20 minutes of tonight but I was not in a good frame of mind to appreciate it;
browsing Netflix for FUNNY…like The Wedding Guest…a bit of reality mixed with authenticity.

light of the stars (haiku)

Oliana @Tracesofthesoul:

Carpe Diem #584, Amanogawa (The Milky Way)

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

cat braves the cold,

light of the milky way

catches a mouse

~

glares with spite

silhouette beneath the stars

the owl hoots

© Tournesol ’14

Carpe Diem

View original

scent of pine trees (Tan Renga)

Oliana @Tracesofthesoul:

Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge #54, Ese’s “fingertips”

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

The goal of this Tan Renga Challenge #54 at Carpe Diem is to write a second stanza of two lines (classical syllables-count 7-7) towards the haiku by Ese. To make the Tan Renga complete … but  this haiku evoked so many memories, I could not choose only one so I am posting them all.

Our host’s completion

fingertips
stroking scales of pine cone
-forest memories © Ese

sunlight strokes my naked body
blankets have slipped away
© Chèvrefeuille

and now my attempts:

fingertips
stroking scales of pine cone
-forest memories © Ese

tap dancing on a tin roof
a lazy sultry afternoon
© Tournesol

fingertips
stroking scales of pine cone
-forest memories © Ese

kindling scents of woodsy pine
clumsy kiss of innocents
© Tournesol

fingertips
stroking scales of pine cone
-forest memories © Ese

lips softly brush my shoulder
like wings of a butterfuly
© Tournesol

View original

grey duvet (free verse)

20141016_135116_Android (2)
(c) Clr ’14

sun invades her despair

wish to wallow

one more day

drown in darkness

wrapped in grey duvet

offering solace

in its bleak way

STOP! she cries

“leave me be

my cave and me

do not fret for me

I breath my own pace

vigour found my sordid way

under my trusting grey duvet”

(c) Oliana Kim ’14-10-17

20141016_135116_Android
(c) Clr ’14 Original photo

The collector

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

 

Cleaning Greg`s room would be a challenge …so many memories, yet it was time. He was graduating next month. The key to the top drawer of his desk was taped under the desk. Sounds of seagulls, waves splashing and sirens blaring engulfed her. Placing each item on the bed, images of her past swallowed her with such pain. She knew what she had to do.

The following month, a handsome young man ran up to her with cap and gown, hugging her. “Hey, Mom, thanks for coming”

“Congratulations sweetheart, this is from your father and me.”

(c) Oliana Kim, ’14-10-17

Friday fictioneers – fiction under 100 words

Falling prey

 

SOURCE

The ferry docked and people were rushing to get to the concert at Parc St-Louis. Angela noticed a young girl wandering and heard a woman shouting “Emily!” from behind her. Right then, she saw a suspicious man approaching the child and feared she might be falling prey to a dangerous situation.   She knew she had to act quickly and her  instincts told her she was right in acting now.

Angela took off towards the girl, screaming, “Emily, sweetie, your mommy is right over here.”

 

© Oliana Kim, ’14/10/16

Five Sentence Fiction

 

The mysterious gift (part 2)

 

SOURCE
SOURCE

 

Rosie leaned against the railing looking out to the sea, “We’re almost there…any regrets about last week?”

Angela kept staring at the waves in silence although her soul was rejoicing, her heart was weeping. Sometimes one has to make choices for the greater good but how does the heart mend?   Looking out to the horizon, she wondered if this gift she had would ever make her feel good.

Rosie put her arm around her cousin’s shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Ma chère Angela, the first ones are always the hardest but think of tous ces innocents qui se sont épargnés.*”

© Oliana Kim, ’14/10/16

*all the innocent people who were spared.

Five Sentence Fiction – Horizon

I saw this prompt this morning and thought it worked well with another prompt I wrote for last night, at 3-Word Wednesday :

1- The mysterious gift

3- Falling prey

The Mysterious Gift

Angela was loved by all her classmates, she was so smart and always willing to help. Students always tried to sit next to her during a test…she was that smart! But she was also gifted with a special power she was not aware of until cousin Rosie would some day tell her.

Rosie emigrated from France only a few years ago and moved in with Angela’s family until her parents came to Canada to join her. They got along immediately even though she was always so intense in her demeanor. Everything was so absolute…if it rained, she would moan like an actress from the ‘50’s “Oh but to suffer through such darkness, I am cursed!” After awhile, Angela grew accustomed to her dramatic outbursts and actually found them entertaining. You could never get bored with Rosie Chapedelaine.

One long weekend, her parents needed a break. They had been working at their travel non-stop for months and felt they could trust a seventeen year old with her nineteen year old cousin for three days. So they left for the Caribbean. That is when Rosie told her about her special powers.
Angela was turning pages of a directory of universities in North America. She was graduating this year and was not yet sure what to choose for her major. It was a toss up between social worker or lawyer.
“I don’t know anymore…gee even criminology looks good to me!” she threw the book on the floor exasperated.
“So why not add police officer while you’re at it…or maybe join the R.C.M.P. With a degree in criminology they would take you.”

Angela looked at Rosie questioningly. “Huh? Okay, Rosaline Marie Chapedelaine, come out with it! What are you trying to tell me.” Angela knew her cousin had a difficult time getting to the point.

“Remember the Natalia case?”

“Good Lord, how could I NOT remember, we saw news bulletins for six months. R.C.M.P. and Toronto Metro Police. Poor Natalia, they never got to her in time but at least they caught the scumbag.”

Rosie reminded her that when they showed family and friends of Natalia, Angela had picked out the man who had kidnapped and assaulted Natalia months before he was ever questioned. She just said she had a feeling he was just “off”, somehow.

She shrugged her shoulders, “So what, it was a lucky guess. What is your point, Rosie!”

Her cousin told her about her special gift that was handed down to Rosie’s great-grandmother’s sister, Sister Marie Therese who was a nun at the Sisters of St Joesph of the Sacred Heart. She worked in an orphanage and uncovered a scandal of sexual abuse by one priest and several brothers in the parish. She managed to have the bishop shut down the parish and send these men to a remote area in Russia. Before Sister Maria died, she gave the gift to her niece, Rosie’s grandmother and she then gave it to Angela at her baptism by touching her forehead and whispering a prayer.

Angela stared at her cousin dumfounded. “So I am gifted…with what?”

Rosie smiled, “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Now, if you were a police officer or detective, you would be able to sniff out lots of perverts and put them in jail until they rot.”

to be continued…

2- The Mysterious Gift, Part 2

3- Falling prey

© Oliana Kim, ’14/10/15

3-Word Wednesday – gifted intense rot

Dear Emma,

 

Emmmmaaaaaa!!!  I am feeling prickly today!

Feeling grumpy, irate, raging, wanting to spit, seethe, scream and yet all I can do is allow my fingers to race across this keyboard.  It does not seem enough but will have to do to keep my sanity.

Why must one get caught up in the web of insecurities of incompetence? What word can relieve this frustration I am feeling? Shouting, hitting, punching,…take that….and that POW POW!!…nope that doesn’t work, I’m not a physically violent person…I’m a real chicken actually.

Oh I know where this hsitty feeling started…on the bus…a lady sat down on my backpack without waiting for me to remove it (um and she saw it…it is HUGE!) but what really bothered me was that she  reeked of some floral perfume my grandmother would not wear. Well, I can’t really say because I am so sensitive to scents that something you might find is a delicious scent I may be gagging…so I opened the window …not good…it just drew her scent under my nose. I finally had to give in and use my inhaler…and keep my hand covering my nose and mouth as politely as I could until we got to the Métro.

As soon as I got off the Métro, I chanted my mantra…over and over to put myself in a good calm place …walking through the field in back of our building (my new short cut) and it helped for a while until now.

There are some office politics that may be getting to me…correction, I am allowing it to get to me…when will I ever learn?

I don’t like being in a bad mood especially with the work that I do…maybe certain scents trigger something in my brain…ya think?  Emma, I think I may be losing my mind…

Thanks for listening… and I am feeling less like spitting at someone or punching a hole in the wall…now that would hurt since it is cement…haha…I made a joke…that`s a good sign.

The cure of this was writing and listening to funky motown…Marvin Gaye is not singing, Lets get it on…oh baby, I`m in a good place now: (goofy smile)

© Oliana Kim – 2014/10/15

 

 

 

concrete soil (haiga)

I`ve been taking a different route to work lately.  I get off  another Métro station. And this is what I saw yesterday. I was pleasantly surprised to see how some seeds must have blown in the wind and flowers were growing near concrete walls and roads. Cool!

sunflower
humble among concrete
autumn sun

(c) Tournesol ’14

Featured Image -- 12399

hot juke box (haiga)

Oliana @Tracesofthesoul:

Finally, I will be writing my Tournesol haiku at my old WP blog which used to be Cher Shares. That way I only have to write it once and may have to stop blogspot…too much work doing it twice. Here is a post with 2 prompts from Carpe Diem Haiku Kai – One on Fireworks and one on Pop Culture. It is a bit of a risk but one must at times. Hope you enjoy it.

Originally posted on Tournesol dans un Jardin:

I could not wait to find a few moments to attempt this prompt Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #29, “Pop culture references in haiku and senryu”. from our host’s Ghost Writer, Jen from Blogitorloseit trying to think of some song, a fad, something that could have a hidden meaning within my haiku and then I saw the prompt for Carpe Diem #581, Hanabi (Fireworks).

I started multitasking between phonecalls at work and surfing YouTube for samples of fireworks from the International Montreal Fireworks we have every summer. That is held on Saturdays and Wednesday…how I got caught many times on the Jacques Cartier Bridge on Wednesday evenings coming home, forgetting it was that time of year only to be turned back to take the tunnel Louis H. Lafontaine…not my happiest nights nearing midnight.

I will show a small glimpse of only 2 minutes of the fireworks just so you…

View original 387 more words

masked beauty (haiga)

Originally posted at Tournesol dans un jardin, haiku on “inner beauty”

Our host wrote:

smiling geisha
hides her beauty behind a fan
and her white face

her white face
the rule for her class of beauty -
no Inner Beauty

© Chèvrefeuille

I too loved this story, although I fell in love with this character moreso in the book; the movie could not include details that allowed the reader to actually feel, taste, smell and hear her inner beauty. Perhaps, when I read a book, I must not see the movie until at least ten years later. But without comparing, in the book I became this woman in her training, her hardships and her onerous grooming.  Here is my attempt to this prompt in the same vein as our host on Inner Beauty…of a geisha.

Wikipedia

Somber geisha
masks each breath,
inner beauty

~

inner beauty
hidden element in grooming
of a geisha

© Tournesol ’14

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai #582

drum circle (haiku)

First Nation’s People
chant to the drum,
heartbeats
~
heart beats
all nations connect…Pow Wow,
living circles
~
living circles
within this universe,
all are one
~
all are one,
listen to the drum
heartbeats.

© Tournesol ’14

Squamish Nation Pow Wow 2011 FULL REGALIA First Nations Native Dance in Vancouver

Haiku Horizons “drum”

nature’s drums (haiku)

October skies hang
over billows of grey,
thunder bolts drum

~

works frantically
tune of robotic drums,
woodpecker

© Tournesol ’14

Haiku Horizons “drum “

Dear Emma,

Dearest Emma,

What a great Thanksgiving dinner I had! I used to be blessed with one son, one daughter, one grandson…now I have a son-in-law (marriage is an option for many Quebecois) and total of three grandson all ranging from 7 to 10 years old. Now how great is that? And the youngest fella who never met me, woke up at seven Sunday morning, rubbing the sand out of his eyes, asking my daughter, “Est-ce que c’est aujourd’hui que nous allons manger de la dinde?” smacking his lips. The little guy is a foody!!

I had set up an extra television in the hallway in case some wanted to watch a movie, others play the Wii…thinking that sometimes three’s company. But nope they were great together. I had bought them each of bottle of liquid soap to make bubbles outside, thinking they just might find this childish. Nope again! When I came outside to offer it to them, their faces lit up! Too Cool!!
My daughter and I have been a bit distant in the past three years but slowly “getting there”. Last night she hugged me real tight for a long time and whispered, “…love you, Mom”…well, I can hardly see the screen right now with this blurred vision but I am bursting with love and joy right now and had to share it.

Emma, everything was perfect. My son did the honour of carving the turkey and well, that wi:) jll always be his job from now on…he is grrrreat! I always make a mess. My ex was yapping away and enjoying the company and it was just so nice to see everyone just being themselves and having fun. At one point the boys were giggling and I asked my daughter, “Does this have anything to do with human anatomy” and she nodded. Haha, that is the age I get testy calls from youngsters. Something in the line of, “Um, kids keep laughing at me at gym I the locker room,” then they hold back a giggle and just snicker, “they say I have a small weenie”…more laughs. And I respond, “Um, you mean they think your penis is tiny?!” …burst out laughing and then CLICK.

So seeing the boys on the floor giggling and having trouble catching their breath, made me smile.

After cleaning up, washing pots and pans, put part of the turkey carcass in a pot with water to make soup, I fell asleep on the couch for an hour and finally went to bed and slept 12 hours! I had not slept in days, so it felt real nice.

However my sleep did get interrupted in the middle of the night by a MEOW and a paw with claws nudge my forearm to pet her; poor Bette! I had set up the guest room with all her toys and things but the guests arrived before I had a chance to put her there with the door closed. She hid somewhere the entire evening and was probably scared silly with the racket we were making. She is afraid of children. So that middle-of-the-night nudge was payback…poor kitty.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/10/13

Ghosts of melodies

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo Prompt – Friday Fictioneers – Writing a narrative inspired by the above photo under 100 words.

His hand shook putting the key in the lock; he took a deep breath, and turned the knob. It was surreal! He hadn`t seen his father in five years, since he’d left to go overseas. He’d stored all his valuables in this tiny room.

Ward sat at the drums, tapping a beat with his thumbs…his dad would chuckle when he did this when he was a kid. He scanned the room slowly, hearing a sound at each instrument, a melody his father had composed. Tears blurred his vision…his dad would never be back from his Tour of Duty.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/ 10/11

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo Prompt – Friday Fictioneers – Writing a narrative inspired by the above photo under 100 words.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is a time to host family and friends and share a warm meal. Eating ( one of my fav things) is a social event for me. The preparations are labours of love, setting the table all nice and just right…setting up games and areas for grandchildren to play and of course I prepared a loot bag for the kids…a Halloween loot bag I mean. Can`t wait to have them take away those goodies cos I have been sampling them all week.

I would have loved to have the time to see my mom especially this weekend as it is GrandMaman’s birthday October 13th. In 1899, Friday the 13th, she was born and it has always been a lucky number for her…she did live to 93 years old and only the last three was she in her own world. All things considered, having NOT even had bypass or taken heart medication, she did pretty darn good! I wonder if it was that little mug of beer every day or a shot of brandy now and again…hmm :) She worked every day of her life in the service of others. She took my mom, my sister and me in when she was 67…no income, just a meagre social security cheque but she made it work. My mother had no income, having stopped working suffering depression and my father never supported us.
GrandMaman cooked amazing meals using many of her garden vegetables, she sewed for us so we would look “swell” and no one was the wiser. Most of my peers thought we were well off, always dressed nice, the latest hairstyles (it helped that Mom was a hairdresser). She was my mentor and role model. At fourteen I wanted more spending money to go to dances without asking, and that`s when I started cleaning houses once a week and later worked at a summer camp. I preferred the youth camp to cleaning though.

I am grateful to have had family who loved me and never hesitated to show me or tell me. I am grateful for having my children who live near me now, my grandson and now that my daughter is involved with a fella with two boys, tomorrow I will be a Nana to 3 grandsons! I am grateful that the entire family is together on special occasions and that my children have both their parents together always at these dinners.
I am most grateful for still having my health to work in a career that fulfills me spiritually, intellectually and emotionally. I feel privileged to be there for some youths who struggled with life and embrace the fact that they trust me and our service to reach out as they do.

I am grateful I met the most compassionate woman through a caring family…a son who inspired me to write, his mother who facilitated my visiting Amma :)

I’m grateful for my lovely Bette who fits in so beautifully in my life…
and I am grateful to have discovered blogging…writing is wonderful but alone it is not as enriching as in a community of amazing people who have embraced me and taught me…and still teach me.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Oliana Kim, 2014/10/11

tailspin of life (haibun)

http://th00.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/f/2010/224/b/4/WHIRLWIND_OF_FEELINGS_AFREMOV_by_Leonidafremov.jpg
Whirlwind of feelings – Leonida Fremov – Deviant Art

Sittin’ on my clock with Otis.

sittin’ on my clock
with Otis and Van Houtte
mind spins

Otis Redding-Sittin’ on the dock of the bay (lyrics)

Body aches, mind is swimming with piles “keep” and “trash”, I sit here with a cup of Van Houtte, listening to Otis Redding “(sittin’ on) the dock of the bay. Since yesterday I have been cleaning my place for Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday. I’ve made three trips to the market…still need a few fresh vegies that I’ll get at that new Thai Foo grocery store nearby. I’ve learned to be creative since my car died, finding spots here and there that in walking distance OR along a bus route. The majour spots are in walking distance and so I can walk slowly and always have my flexible cane in my backpack…just in case.

© Clr '14 BFF
© Clr ’14 BFF

Now if only Bette’s tail would stop flapping over my keyboard. Yes, she is still doing it despite the daily brushing. At least by the third song, (Let me come on home) I am more  relaxed. I so remember dancng to that song back in the day {triple sigh!}

I love to write. I love to read, take pictures, walk on different new streets and avenues but housecleaning is NOT my forte. I always say to myself it is fortunate that I have company from friends and mostly family so I keep the place acceptable. However when I am hosting a majour dinner like Thanksgiving, Christmas or Easter…well, I take that opportunity to declutter and brave that “guest room” turned into storage room. I am almost a hoarder…Okay, I’m a bit of a hoarder. Again, if it were not for having company, I would be much worse. And having moved from a house to a condo to an apartment, I have given away lots of stuff. Thank goodness for life changes!

…but, yeah, there is always a reason, right? Hoarding is like pulling weeds…they keep popping up whether you like it or not. I gave furniture away, but did I get rid of my files and files of workshops I have given? It took me 10 years to chuck my university term papers, so, you get the idea, right?

After my new life (post divorce) I received many cards from friends and family when I moved six hours away for more than a decade…yep, still have those and that was 18 years ago. I kept telling myself, I would do a huge collage with my sendoff and well wishes from friends. Friends and colleagues who cringed at the thought of such a move away from family and friends, but still cheered me. Many lived vicariously through my experiences…they rarely cared to hear about the loneliness but enjoyed the explosion of blossoms dormant for 30 years. Some even said, including my mom, “I wish I had had the courage to do this.”

I saw that pile in my sorting yesterday. Triage of a lifetime isn’t easy. If I closed my eyes maybe I could just throw it all away but if I open that file and read one sentence, I sit down on the edge of the bed and think to myself, “Wow, this is good…I could write a story about this!”. Why do I keep it? Everyone prepares for lectures and workshops by surfing the internet or digging files they have on their hard drive …those papers are collecting dust. Am I right? Ah, I found another spot to store them one more season, maybe there is a reason…right?

© Oliana Kim ’14

Triage of a lifetime isn’t easy.

going in circles
triage of  lifetime
ends at start

&

life cycles
season of rest
hides in the dark

© Tournesol ’14

Carpe Diem #580 Wheel of Fortune

Six Word Saturday

Sunday Scribblings “Music”

clutter and cat tails (free verse)

feels like there is cement
in my shoes
weights at my feet
cobwebs in my head
clutter in my mind
making me move
ever slowly…
and once I get some life
urge to write a little
my bff * gets in my face
tail flaps on my hands
upon my keyboard
whatever am I to do?

© Oliana Kim 2014/10/10

Bff * best feline friend

sex, sensual…sigh (SoCS)

Caroline Michaud, Photographe

To be truthful about this SoCS thing, I must also be transparent. So what is the first thing that comes to mind when seeing the letter “s”…sex, sensual, sexual, sexy, seductive and seducing. Now, as I type those words I see images flashing by me, some I can share here but most I cannot…oh but the opportunity to fantasize and relish in the bliss of carnal desires {sigh} is quite pleasurable.
Rather than try to write some erotic poem, perhaps I will describe what makes me feel like a sexy woman…yep, even at my age.
– that subtle gaze when sitting at a café
– a gentleman opening the door for me
– a male friend walking me to our table for dinner and gently placing his hand on the small of my back…(triple sigh) OH, SIGH is also an “s” word and that goes a long way describing so many wonderful experiences!
– wearing a nicely fitted dress that shows my curves in just the right places makes me want to wiggle as I walk…well, actually wiggling is a genetic trait, even if my mother went a little overboard sometimes
– having that special someone gazing into my eyes as if he can see glimpses of my soul
– talking with our eyes as we dance a slow sultry dance
– feeling our hearts beat as we dance in the night
– feeling his hand brush mine and finally holding it as we watch a movie
– silk stocking that feel soft and sexy on my legs
– having my special guy put sunscreen on my shoulders, my neck…the small of my back
– skinny dipping late at night with the sounds of cicadas
– feeling my long hair gently brush my shoulders and my back
Well, there is more for sure but this is where my pen stalled…perhaps I was in la-la land for a while.

Friday reminder of SoCS – Stream of Consciousness and the letter to inspire us to write is “s”.  Oh thank you, LInda, for allowing me to dip into lovely reveries.

© Oliana Kim, 2014/10/10

mindfullness (haibun)

Richelieu River Rapids, Chambly, Qc.

Our children grew up in a town along the Richelieu River, in a Fort town, Chambly, Quebec.  At the end of the day I often biked to the rapids to unwind and reboot for the next three hours after dinner.    It was amazing what just a few minutes pouring my day into the roar of the rapids did!   I would bike back filled with so much energy and yet an internal calmness.

(haiku)

Spirit stirs
inhaling mindfully,
river rapids

© Tournesol ’14

Aquarius, Carpe Diem #579

daylight loss (haiku)

 

grass buried in leaves

mourning loss of daylight

squirrel finds shelter

© Tournesol ’14

Carpe Diem Special #111, Shiba Sonome’s 2nd “dogs howling “

tag you’re it! (haiga)

Playing with leaves

Carpe Diem Haiku Family, where we were asked to write a FUN haiku celebrating autumn!

Here is our host’s haiku:

the laughter of children
resonates through the park
playing with leaves

© Chèvrefeuille

children squeal
diving on a bed of leaves
tag, you`re it!

(c) Tournesol ’14

tainted (haiku)

http://www.londoncounsellingdirectory.com/counselling-2/counselling-can-help-background-sexual-abuse-child/
Counselling can help child sexual abuse

repugnant conduct
compulsion rules his scruples
 robbed innocence

singing, Farmer-in-the-Dale
naïve to such perversions

self-harm releases
venom from her tainted soul
deflowered teen

(c) Tournesol ’14

Photo credits: London Counselling Directory

MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie – Heeding Haiku with Ha – addictions

cheval blanc (shadorma & elfje)

MindLoveMiserys Menagerie – Bastet’s Shadorma Photo Challenge

(shadorma)

Violins
harps and mandolins
angels stringing
melodies
sauntering in harmony
le cheval blanc

cheval blanc
with lovers do prance
romantic
reverie
ambling in slow circles on
their merry-go-round

(elfje)

multicolours
fantasy fair
knight courting maiden
wishing I was she
delirium

© Tournesol ’14

*******************************

Elfje originated in the Netherlands where it is used to teach young children to write poetry. The Elfje means Elven or Fairy poem from Elf meaning elven or fairy and the suffix “je” meaning little. The form consists of 11 words spread over 5 lines.
Hot to write Elfje:
An Elfje counts as five sentences.
Line 1. One word. This word sympolizes a colour or feature. The word symbolizes the atmosphere.
Line 2. Two words. These are something or someone with this colour or feature.
Line 3. Three words. Giving more information about the person or the object. You describe where the person or the object is, who the person or what the object is, or what the person or object is doing. This sentence usually starts with the word “he” “she” or “it”.
Line 4. Four Words. Here you are writing something about yourself in relation to the person or the object. This sentence is your conclusion
Line 5. One word. This word is called the “Bomb”. It is the essence of the poem

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Poets Pub

Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

lindaghill

Life in progress

Busy Mind Thinking

Wait! What?!

Butterfly Sand

Curiosity run amok . . .

Blase'

My heart, mind and soul...transcribed!

Black and Write

The Poetic Musings of Dom DIFrancesco

Friendly Fairy Tales

Fairy Tales and Poetry Celebrating Magic and Nature for Kids of all Ages

behindthemaskofabuse

Abuse,narcissism,survival,there is hope,poetry,art,photography

poetreecreations.org

THE BEST OF POETRY

Art by Dennis Cardiff

Paintings and Drawings

kalabalu

Kalabalu.WordPress.com site

SHIRLEY MAYA

on Life, Love, Sex, Food, Travels and Adventures

DottaRaphels

Where Art Imitates Life

martha0stout

Just another walk through the woods

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.

It's a lonely place

My journey with chronic pain

yes even this too will pass

Peace Be Unto Us All...

anewperspectiveperhaps

This site is about everything from my philosophy on life to the little things that make me laugh. IIt is about living, and breathing, and pausing long enough to take it all in. I hope it makes you laugh, sometimes makes you cry, but always makes you want to come back for another visit. It is your words, and your likes that inspire me to keep writing. And it is through my writing that you have a very large window to my soul. Relax awhile, read, and enjoy!

Let There be Peace on Earth

Free to express and learn...

Quarksire

Q's werld a werld of introspection retrospectyion complication, yet simplicity overiding all so to see the reality is only but to lewk upon it with a gentle gaze. Unto Infinity and Beyond.

iiThinks

Poetry of the Soul

Where Words Daily Come Alive

A Word Press Blog Which Will Make You Smile

Hortus Closus

Pour vivre heureux, vivons cachés

Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words ...

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