in a mist-cloaked tree only the caw of a crow a shrunken shadow Kim M. Russell, 24th October 2019 My response to Carpe Diem #1768 Crows In today’s episode of Carpe Diem’s month of birthday celebration, our theme is crows, taking inspiration from Basho’s crow haiku.
She lingers by the lane, in the interregnum of autumn, an exhalation of green, watching glossy crows gather over stubbled fields of faded ochre, sewn delicately with bales and rustling with dragonflies. The end-of-day sun casts a murder of shadows, letters from above, the winged initials of her one true love. Kim M. Russell, 12th […]
I want to strut with crows, stomp and kick the rows of neatly turned furrows in a field freshly harrowed. I want to scribble and scrawl on geometric shapes with crayons of ploughed-brown, corn-green and yellow oil-seed rape. Bring on the vivid hues so we can fly among the blues and splash inky shadows on […]
ravens are courting in a bluster of feathers jet against the snow Kim M. Russell, 2018 My response to Carpe Diem’s Winter Retreat 2018 Peace Within For Carpe Diem’s Winter Retreat 2018, Chèvrefeuille has challenged us to create a haiku or tanka inspired on the theme of ‘Peace Within’ every day during a period of […]
a raggedy crow gargoyle hunched on a bare branch shreds clouds with its caw watches with a shiny eye threads tangle in autumn sky © Kim M. Russell, 2016 Image found on Pinterest My response to Carpe Diem Tanka Splendor #23 crows For today’s prompt Chèvrefeuille has brought us ‘crows’ and the famous crow haiku by […]
solitary crow conspicuous in bare limbs of an autumn tree the caw of a crow echoes hollow loneliness in leafless seasons © Kim M. Russell, 2016 Image by David Russell My response to Carpe Diem Universal Jane #7 Basho (the translations) This Wednesday sees a new episode of Universal Jane, a weekly feature in which we […]
Translation of ‘Winterdämmerung’, a poem by Georg Trakl Dedicated to Max von Esterle Metallic black celestial sphere. In the evenings, starved to madness, Crows criss-cross storms’ redness, Blown over parkland sad and bare. In the clouds a light is frozen; Each bird turns in circles then, Fleeing from the curse of Satan, Sevenfold […]