Crows Calling At Night

Posted byChristine BoltonPosted inBlog, LoveTags:, , , , ,

Crows Calling At Night

The days and nights become interchangeable
as clouds transition from grey to dark grey
It seems an eternity since she saw him
Fondly remembering the shared laughter
The developing closeness and intimacy
Feelings that had been an infrequent visitor
in a solitary existence had sparked her into life
Now, with him gone, the monotony has returned
The humdrum life of loneliness she wore like a drab cloak
The only sound she hears is the squawking of crows
Sitting as black robe-like mourners in the trees
Hunched in groups, cawing empathies for her loss
Her only activity, the blanket she had promised him
The endless evening hours are now filled
with the under and over movement of the shuttle
as she weaves the brightly colored threads growing with each turn
Making it with love for her paramour who may or may not return
The crows cry out, feeling her pain as she weeps into the yarn
 
 
Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Laura Bloomsbury is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight.  She has
prompted us to choose one of five poems she shared that were
translated from the original Chinese and to reinterpret it
in out own style, keeping the original title.
I chose the following:

Crows calling at Night ~ Li bai

“Yellow clouds beside the walls; crows roosting near.
Flying back, they caw, caw; calling in the boughs.
In the loom she weaves brocade, the Qin river girl.
Made of emerald yarn like mist, the window hides her words.
She stops the shuttle, sorrowful, and thinks of the distant man.
She stays alone in the lonely room, her tears just like the rain.“


Photo by Mahdi Dastmard on Unsplash

Published by Christine Bolton

I have been writing poetry since I was a child and it has helped in the good times and bad times. I am always looking within to find the answers to life's problems and to write thought-provoking poetry and prose. Thanks for checking it out. Christine

34 thoughts on “Crows Calling At Night”

  8. The only sound she hears is the squawking of crows
    Sitting as black robe-like mourners in the trees
    Hunched is groups, cawing empathies for her loss

    Christine, I really loved your description of the crows, as well as the contrast between the black crows and colorful blanket.

    Beautiful! Thank you.

    ❤
    David

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  9. I love the way you expanded the translated Chinese poem into an epic poem of your own, Christine, with so much added detail gleaned from the hints in the original! I love the lines:
    ‘The humdrum life of loneliness she wore like a drab cloak
    The only sound she hears is the squawking of crows
    Sitting as black robe-like mourners in the trees’.

    Like

    1. Thank you so much Kim! I found this poem haunting and my imagination took hold! ☺️💕

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  15. This is gorgeously rendered, Christine 😀 I love the depth which you have added here to the poem especially; “The endless evening hours are now filled with the under and over movement of the shuttle/ as she weaves the brightly colored threads growing with each turn/Making it with love for her paramour who may or may not return.” Sigh ..💝💝

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    1. Thank you so much Sanaa. I’m so pleased you liked my poem. I e joyed the original a d felt there was so much more to tell ☺️💕🌺

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