solitary quince
among semi-bare branches
too few leaves to hide
the only source of sunshine
floodlights the dying season
Kim M. Russell, 19th November 2020
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar: Jisei (Japanese Death Poems)
Frank is our host today for Meeting the Bar, inviting us to revisit the Jisei (Japanese Death Poem), a genre that developed in the literary traditions of East Asian cultures, which offers a reflection on death (in general and concerning the imminent death of the author).
Jisei were often written in waka (tanka) or haiku, but death poems are not restricted to those forms. What is essential is the expression of both imminent death and the significance of life in the face of it. In this sense, Jisei is the poetry of both memorial and celebration.
Frank has shared examples by Basho, Haikuin and Hôjô Ujimasa to inspire our own Jisei. We can write haikai (haiku, senryu, tanka, kyoka, Gogyohka) or haikai-esque poems that reflect on imminent death—and the significance of life in light of it. If we go for the haikai-esque, we should keep them brief, and use the aesthetics of haikai (simplicity, heartfulness, and pathos).
writing in north norfolk 
The image of that shining quince… the bright spot in the otherwise bleak place… just like Lilian you had those bare branches which work so well
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Thank you, Bjorn. I took the photograph at the beginning of the week to capture the quince still hanging there – and then I wrote the poem!
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Beautifully done, Kim. The solitary quince…..and then the sunlight streaking through tree branches floodlighting the dying season. I can imagine the sun, making those last leaves almost translucent as they hang on until the final harsh wind blows them to the ground.
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Thank you, Lill. I’ve been keeping an eye on that last quince. It’s too high to reach and it has to fall some time soon.
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I love your description of how the sun ‘floodlights the dying season’ – we need all the sunlight we can get at this time of year. The image of ‘solitary quince’ is so appropriate to the jisei form and it’s meaning.
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Thanks Ingrid.
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I love the idea of the quince acting as a beacon in an otherwise bleak landscape. Wonderful!
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Thank you, Lisa! I can see it from my window as I type.
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🙂
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Oh, so beautifully written!
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Thank you, Lucy!
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I’m just repeating what others have already commented upon: the quince, the imagery… beautiful & deep. Great opening line “solitary quince”
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Thank you so much for reading and commenting!
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The summer hangs on in the yellow fruit. Treat it kindly when it falls 🙂
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I have a feeling it’s not going to fall. I’m watching it carefully.
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It might be one of those fruits that shrivel and mummify. Unless you have visitors that appreciate quince.
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Beautiful! I love the first two lines–and the contrast with the floodlighting sun in the last! Wonderful, Kim!
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Thank you so much, Frank!
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So much said, implied, and presented. Bare branches are getting the poet’s salute out here on the trail. Winter skulking about with frigid breath and death-like fingers.
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Thank you, Glenn. Winter is definitely skulking about this morning, and that last quince on the tree is still glowing.
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Yumwrite, KR
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Thanks Ron!
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Luminous fruit hanging in darkness, a marvellous melancholy image – and that last verb – ‘floodlights’ – these aren’t just glowing – they’re blazing away. Hopeful, defiant. Lovely write Kim.
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Thank you, Peter. it’s still up there, still luminous. I wonder how long it will keep its bright colour.
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I like that you used the natural world to reflect on death and life…it’s a good mirror. (K)
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Thank you, Kerfe.
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Excellent Kim.
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Thanks Rob.
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I like how this focuses on the light shining in the darkening. A bit defiant seeming, not going gentle into that good night…
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Thank you, especially for the reference to Dylan Thomas, one of my favourie poets.
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Well done, Kim.
It’s only fitting that the last gasp should be under light.
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Thank you, Ken.
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Wonderful Kim, captures those last embers of the old season, encapsulated in the quince — nature is wonderful if we look at it.
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Thank you, Francis.
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a stark dose of realism, lovely Kim
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Thank you, Kate.
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The winter sun as a floodlight is spot on. Lovely and poignant description of the season.
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A beautiful capture of Fall in its dying season!
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Thank you, Dwight!
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The imagery captures beautifully the paradoxical inability of the “dying” to hide the “light”, Kim. Very nicely done.
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Thank you, Dora!
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My pleasure!
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That brave quince is hanging on! Wonderful Kim.
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Thank you, Linda!
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The thought of that single fruit hanging on for dear life! Isn’t that what we’re all doing now? Such a well piece, Kim.
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Thank you, Misky!
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It’s like they cling to life on those bare branches. There such a sadness about the last of the fruit on a tree. Still there after the leaves have all gone. Your Jisei tanka is perfect Kim ☺️
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Thank you kindly, Christine.
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There’s an optimistic feel to this–that it’s the loss of leaves that lets the light shine through. And that solitary fruit hanging on!
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Thank you, Merril. It’s still hanging there, the brightest thing in the garden!
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Wow!
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The dying light is, perhaps, the eternal light. I like the way the uncertainty of your poem is held in the beauty of the moment.
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Your comment gives me a glow, Suzanne – I feel understood.
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That’s good 😊
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The dying light is, perhaps, the eternal light. I like the way the uncertainty of your poem is held in the beauty of the moment.
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