An Ode To Crows..

bluerains

528 inception
Joined
Mar 29, 2004
Posts
2,777
I have been Fascinated with crows and ravens for quite a spell..And feel I should dedicate poetry in honor of the Crow..just because...last week, A place I Volunteer to help at...there was an old woman who told me my hair was that of the crow...and she blessed herself ,,,being a good catholic...told me I should change my crow hair.../damn that pissed me off...I love crows..I have seen the sheen of their feathers reflecting the rays of the sun into all the colors of the rainbow...FUCK HER...so
I leave this thread ...a tribute to the black crow as black all the colors of the sun reflect from darkness...black is beautiful...
Intelligence A tale told by Aesop informs us that the intelligence
of
corvids (Ravens and Crows) has long been known. A thirsty crow found a
pitcher of water, but the water was too far below the rim for his beak
to
reach. The clever crow began dropping pebbles into the pitcher, raising
the
water level until it reached the brim, where she could quench her
thirst.

At Oxford University in England, ornithologists conducted an unusual
experiment with two New Caledonian Crows named Betty and Abel, reported
in
the August 9, 2002 issue of the journal Science. They placed a tiny
bucket
of meat inside a pipe, and left two pieces of wire in their cage, one
hooked
and one straight, to see if the birds would choose the hooked wire to
retrieve the bucket of meat, proving that birds were "tool users" on a
par
with higher levels of animal intelligence.

"We were delighted and extremely surprised" reported Alex Kacelnik,
one
of the bird experts studying the crows, when Abel stole the hooked wire
from
Betty, and rather than giving up, Betty "modified" the straight wire
into a
hooked wire, and was thus able to hook the bucket, pull it up, and
retrieve
her snack. This elevates ravens from "tool users" to "tool makers",
which
places them on a par with primates.

So You may post your favorite Crow works be it yours or another...let the feathers
shine in honor of the Crow.... :)
 
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One of my Crow Favs...

RAVEN MAGIC
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning
May bear the raven's eye
- Cymberline, by William Shakespeare
 
You might want to choose a Ravenish magical name.

Please Play ..oh...bringers of the light...
Name Meaning Language

Corvin, Corwin, Corwun, Korwin and Korun
Raven's Friend
Anglo Saxon
Corvinna, Corwinna
Raven's Friend (fem.)
Anglo Saxon
Jay
a Corvid name
Anglo Saxon
Raaf
Raven
Dutch
Fiach Dubh
Raven
Irish
Hrabin
Raven
German
Korakas, Korax
Raven
Greek
Corvus, Corvi and Corvinus
Raven
Latin
Hraefn
Raven
Old English
Hrafn
Raven
Old Norse
Ravn
Raven
Norwegian
Corbie
Raven
Broad Scots
Fhithich
Raven
Scots Gaelic
Bertrand
Bright Raven
Teutonic
Brainard
Fierce Raven
Teutonic
Ingram
Ing's Raven
Teutonic
Bran
Raven
Welsh
Brandon
Raven
Welsh
Branwen, Branda, Brenda
Bran's sister
Welsh
Cigfran
Raven
Welsh
 
*

You snickered
I frowned.

You called them shit eating birds
and wanted to bleed their breath
into extinction.

Shit happens
as wings fly.
 
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take a peek into some

Ted Hughes, he wrote quite a bit on crows:


Crow Blacker Than Ever


When God, disgusted with man,
Turned towards heaven,
And man, disgusted with God,
Turned towards Eve,
Things looked like falling apart.


But Crow Crow
Crow nailed them together,
Nailing heaven and earth together-


So man cried, but with God's voice.
And God bled, but with man's blood.


Then heaven and earth creaked at the joint
Which became gangrenous and stank-
A horror beyond redemption.


The agony did not diminish.


Man could not be man nor God God.


The agony


Grew.


Crow


Grinned


Crying: "This is my Creation,"


Flying the black flag of himself.






What a line: Flying the black flag of himself.
 
Piqued my thoughts

As I read through this thread and odd co-incidence came to mind. I had just bought the movie "Underground 2" and I enjoyed it last night. But today I read this thread about Crows" or "Corvids".

The hybrid (Werewolf/Vampire), male that travels and fights with the "Death Dealer" Vampire, bears the name "Micheal Corvin". Mr. Crow/Raven comes from an ancestry of Cech people that carry the name "Corvina". It caught me off-guard that the Corvids are related in this movie as companions of the "Dark Dead". Like I said, an odd thought.





http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/earthlights_dmsp_bigpipe.jpg
 
Decayed Angel said:
Ted Hughes, he wrote quite a bit on crows:


Crow Blacker Than Ever


When God, disgusted with man,
Turned towards heaven,
And man, disgusted with God,
Turned towards Eve,
Things looked like falling apart.


But Crow Crow
Crow nailed them together,
Nailing heaven and earth together-


So man cried, but with God's voice.
And God bled, but with man's blood.


Then heaven and earth creaked at the joint
Which became gangrenous and stank-
A horror beyond redemption.


The agony did not diminish.


Man could not be man nor God God.


The agony


Grew.


Crow


Grinned


Crying: "This is my Creation,"


Flying the black flag of himself.






What a line: Flying the black flag of himself.
That is one of my favorite Hughes poems, and that line may be why. Thanks for sharing it.
 
I have been feeding a young female fox that has a litter of pups, well two (is that still a litter?) any way, I feed them cat food (dry) every morning on the edge of a creek where they come and sit and wait till I bring the food and place it at a fair distance then they eat.

The crows wait till the fox family is through eating then they fly down and pick up the small pieces missed by the foxes.

I also wrote a poem about a day I was sitting in my house and heard a lot of noise oputside, I looked out to see crows eating from the trash/burn pile in the back forty acres. Heads in a chili can and tapping out a meal as well as a good beat <grin

here's a couple crow poems for you blue...

The Thief
by My Erotic Tail ©

Who is this thief that steals from my line,
again and again, time after time.

Leaving dirty laundry scattered around,
finding them laying on the ground.

What a mess they have made of things,
the emotions they stir and sorrow they bring.

I wait and watch my laid out line,
I have patience and plenty of time.

Searching for answers to the crime,
who is littering these things of mine?

Then I saw them land on my line,
taking my clothes pins one at a time.

The black Crow that has caused such a mess,
likes the shinny spring of the clothes pins I guess.



13 Crows~
by My Erotic tale

In the dead of night
I heard their flight
just above my head

13 Crows
landed in a row
gathering around the dead

Stainless drips
trick of the night
the color of blood red

13 crows
this night exposed
what they wanted fed

A shrilling call
beaks and eye balls
as 13 crows fled

A hallow eve
instructing my deed
what 13 crows had said

Calling this night
the black birds flight
13 crows in my head
 
http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h91/sugaredgurl/baby6.jpg
I dislike birds in general..... but crows are exceptional.

Dark and elegant creatures... so very intelligent.. I once had to barter with one that stole my ring from an outdoor table with offerings of shiny metal spoons and foil. She knew I wanted her to drop my ring in exchange for something more appealing... she held it tight in her claw only transfering objects with the other talon... Took me over an hour to get it back... and as soon as she knew her mistake of dropping it ( or maybe after she had enough of playing with me ) she looked at me and let out a shrill "caww caww caww" and flew off. That's my crow contribution. Love you ode to crows...

http://www.shades-of-night.com/aviary/birdfict.html.
 
four fat crows,
dance around the finches and the junkos
hop in the crabapple tree-

fighting for and winning last years fruit,
as the spurs shed flowers and
spring anew fall's bounty-

the crows are experts at waiting.
 
Maria2394........., yes!

I would like to get to all the poems, but as such, I have "bookmarked" the sites of a very few of my favorite writers. This is very promising poetess.


crow bait
by Maria2394 ©

I heard that the crow did cry
all day pacing the roadside
lamenting the path of sunlight
his head bobbing side to side.

Crow and his good friend garter snake
had shared information on berry locations
and the death of said snake
was the only time crow ever cried.

It’s doubtful I’ll ever forget
the grate of his caw on my ears,
as crow could only caw his displeasure
his sadness his loss in wails and squawks

of how can I ever carry on, carry on?






http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/earthlights_dmsp_bigpipe.jpg
 
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Sugar


Dark and elegant creatures... so very intelligent.. I once had to barter with one that stole my ring from an outdoor table with offerings of shiny metal spoons and foil. She knew I wanted her to drop my ring in exchange for something more appealing... she held it tight in her claw only transfering objects with the other talon... Took me over an hour to get it back... and as soon as she knew her mistake of dropping it ( or maybe after she had enough of playing with me ) she looked at me and let out a shrill "caww caww caww" and flew off. That's my crow contribution. Love you ode to crows...

http://www.shades-of-night.com/aviary/birdfict.html.[/QUOTE]

A bistro I once worked in had an outside seating with umbrella tables and fru fru, and also lurking on the veranda and rooftops , were several gigantic crows.
tourists would watch as they would pluck the sugar packets and Ketchup from bowls and steal their french fries from the very plates the was munching on...I enjoyed watching the clever ways they found to nick things from purses and such...just like
the Copperfield lot...ty for all these great tributes..I have a link on my sig of the crow bending the wire to get her food...truly amazing little bugger...blue.
 
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bluerains said:
Sugar
I dislike birds in general..... but crows are exceptional.

Dark and elegant creatures... so very intelligent.. I once had to barter with one that stole my ring from an outdoor table with offerings of shiny metal spoons and foil.

...truly amazing little bugger...blue.


I have a murder of crows that live in the woods behind my house, a noisey lot. A friend asked me one time, "You know it is rare to see a baby crow"
 
did you mean number

My Erotic Trail said:
I have a {murder} of crows that live in the woods behind my house, a noisey lot. A friend asked me one time, "You know it is rare to see a baby crow"
This is from another site...but, I have witnessed the same...A few years ago on the barrier island, while visiting my friends condo...we heard a very loud noise outside..we opened the door and the sky was littered with black birds cawing ...the power lines looked like a row of warriors and the noise of fluttering wings and caws were awesome...down below them..lay a dead crow....

The Crow Funeral
Dead fallen comrade,
moment of silence rendered;
sudden departure
The sound of many crows calling at once filled the air. I peeked out the window, and everywhere I could see, crows, maybe a couple hundred of them. They were on the sidewalk. They were on the power lines. They were on the logs that served as stops for parked cars, and they were in the trees. Almost hidden against one of the logs, I saw a dead crow. There were a few crows standing near the body. The noise continued for about a minute or so, when suddenly, an unseen conductor waved his baton, and the cawing stopped. The silence was equally as loud.

There was a pause.

Then, the invisible conductor again waved his baton, and there was a great and noisy flurry of feathers, as the crows took off and flew in all directions. Soon they were gone, leaving their lifeless kin to the elements. I continued my watch in silent awe, feeling that I had just witnessed something few have seen. In the various articles and books I have read about the corvids and their behavior, the authors cannot agree as to whether the Crow "Funeral" is fact or legend.

What it comes down to is, only the crows know the significance of this behavior. The term "funeral" is for us a convenience, a way to explain what appears to be the obvious. But, until a Crow-Human/Human-Crow dictionary comes out, we may never know the absolute truth. Better to observe and appreciate another highly evolved species and the rituals that keep their "society" together.

In late 1997, I observed a similar event on a busy street. I was able to make a few photographs and an audio recording of the crows. The bird were oblivious to the passing cars -- filled with people that were oblivious to the behavior of the crows.
 
A few Celtic Crow facts!

Crow

Many Celtic deities were associated with carrion birds. In any given iconography, it is often difficult to distinguish between crows and ravens. The Irish goddess Macha was called “Crow,” as was the goddess Badbh (“Badbh Cath” or Battle Crow). The Morrigan could change between a human form and a crow form. . After Cu Chulain’s death, the Morrigan approaches his body in the form of a crow, sweeping down from heaven and uttering three cries over his body before alighting in a hawthorn bush near the body.

Crows and ravens were birds of death, because of their scavenging habits, and the Irish war goddesses with whom crows are associated prophecy death, disaster, and defeat for those to whom they appeared In Gaelic and Welsh lore, a crow that alighted on the roof of a home was an evil omen.

On some Celtic coins, crows are shown riding on the backs of horses. The association of horses and crows is particularly interesting because the goddess Macha is associated with horses in addition to being called “Crow.” . One famous tale involves Macha giving birth after out-racing the horses of a king. After giving birth Macha prophesies doom and curses the men who forced her to race. Thus, Macha in her associations with crows, horses, motherhood, prophecy, death and disaster, is an important example of the complex and multi-layered functions of goddesses in the Gaelic tradition.
 
Just Made

I thought that since I accidently double-posted, that I should contribute a poem. So I came up with this untested piece.


“Black Eyes”


Floating to the power line,
and dancing into balance.
Head twitching from side to side,
looking over sentience.
Making the watch of irony,
their personal mission happenstance.
The spirit guide, avenger and warning,
lacking vocal eloquence.
The sky aloft wields in all his heart,
proud majestic eminence.
But to humanity, the grounded souls.
These black-winged Corvid’s puissance.



The Mystery Valiant
6-18-2006




http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/earthlights_dmsp_bigpipe.jpg
 
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and to wonder what they must think of our little ant hills...places like nettles island...
scary...http://www.usmicromap.com/psl-halt/PSL99s/NettlesIsland.jpg

The Mystery Valiant said:
I thought that since I accidently double-posted, that I should contribute a poem. So I came up with this untested piece.


“Black Eyes”


Floating to the power line,
and dancing into balance.
Head twitching from side to side,
looking over sentience.
Making the watch of irony,
their personal mission happenstance.
The spirit guide, avenger and warning,
lacking vocal eloquence.
The sky aloft wields in all his heart,
proud majestic eminence.
But to humanity, the grounded souls.
These black-winged Corvid’s puissance.



The Mystery Valiant
6-18-2006




http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/earthlights_dmsp_bigpipe.jpg
 
hey blue :)

heres a post from my crow poems thread, as no crow poems thread is really complete with out The Raven, by Poe

~~~

The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
First Published in 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."


Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.


And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."


Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.


Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.


Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."


Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.


Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."


But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."


Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."


But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!


Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!
 
I

have always been transfixed by the memory of this work ...ty maria...the crow lives on... :rose:
Maria2394 said:
hey blue :)

heres a post from my crow poems thread, as no crow poems thread is really complete with out The Raven, by Poe

~~~

The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
First Published in 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."


Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.


And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."


Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.


Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.


Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."


Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.


Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."


But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."


Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."


But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!


Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."


And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!
 
Birdseye

Wreckage,
now braided
into a guise of someone.
Rainwater without transparency
runs into another cup
of non-believers.

Surrendering to the scrap
heap of a leftover world,
a crow remains as our
reflection, flying through
a sea of consumption.
 
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I have few wants
but one is to have
a black crow
on my shoulder

a guide, wise
and raucous

maybe next spring.




I have had the Morrighan tattooed on my left shoulder for many years, and She is my greatest comfort. I have used Her greatly.
 
a bit of a guardian on the shoulder ..awesome boo..




I have had the Morrighan tattooed on my left shoulder for many years, and She is my greatest comfort. I have used Her greatly.[/QUOTE]
 
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