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Anais Vionet Jan 26
(inspired by "Gifts of the Most High" by G Alan Johnson.)

The crows know me, and I, in their untamed glares,
and wild, accepting, onyx eyes find a solace.

No need for ID, for they’ve been watching me,
my face, yet unetched by time and life's own artistry,
is a passport for their uncivilized and predatory attention.

The corvid and I are kindred in many ways.
We've all scavenged for fortune's scraps,
shared the sting of bitter winter snaps,
and feasted on the meager leavings of the day.

In this dark pact, of watcher and watched,
a silent truth is proclaimed, that all that’s done
beneath the sun, is seen by dark, intuitive,
discerning, if not caring or humanly wise eyes.

The carrion crows know me,
and those feathered sentinels of air, mark
my coming with raucous, heralding cries.

They gather, black against the sun-kissed sky,
in councils held upon the wind's swift motions,
like children, they argue - observing still - as they play.

They causa no fear, but someday I’ll disappear,
unraveled, bit by bit, not by malice from on high,
but by beaks and claws, to caws they mantric-like cry.

Perhaps death really does have an ebonite beauty
and, like angels, his servants have wings, and pick us apart
when our time is through - and those sharp bills come due.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Kindred: “similar in nature or character."
Maria Mitea Nov 2023
Let love be the  blowing wind,

Let love be the crying rain,
Screaming crow,

Eyes to eyes, lips to lips,
Skin to skin,
Life dreams Life, and Love dreams Love,

God dreams God,

Only flowers siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing,

Leeet looove beee the  blooowing wiiind,
Leeet looove beee the cryyyying raaain,
Leeet looove beee the screeeaming crooowww,


While the sun is shining bright,
Shining only for the night,

Leeet looove beee the  blooowing wiiind,
Leeet looove beee the cryyyying raaain,
Leeet looove beee the screeeaming crooowww,
Unpolished Ink Aug 2023
Crows on Autumn corn
challenge the wind
for the remains of Summer
neth jones Aug 2023
Four Crows fly over
the rear gunner ***** twice as hard
            to keep his mates
Gaps in his Wings
   from history with a Predator

Clammy weather
                       preceding
                 grey summer rainfall
summer 23
no.7

24/06/23
There’s a new bird in the garden
A call I haven’t heard before.
I dream of beavers, incongruous and out of place.
Dam-building swimmers with no tails.

In a field nearby crows shout their business
I saw the planting there yesterday
A strong woman soring up the earth against the seedlings.

I spend too much on small-***** organic chickens.
Forage mushrooms righteously
Whilst wondering if they’ll make us sick.
I try to get it right
Over and over again
Unpolished Ink Feb 2023
Seventy two Crows
have come to bid you goodbye
dressed in mourning clothes
neth jones Mar 2022
enduring the urban winter

daring the day uncovered
            by way of a chaos of crows
                                  pulling on the weather
   breaking from their perches
crooking their feathered hinges
and 'carring' up the first subtle wash of light
     
they lift and clump to make a short migration
            from the city to...? [shrug]
their flight pattern seems more of a 'wit' or a 'prank'
  than a '******'
the sun machines to complete its horizon
              tugged by the last departing birds

returning in the afternoon
with the full light provided
          and messy winds to charge them
like malicious children from the playground gate
       fed and joy fighting at their hierarchy
              whilst in an unbattened flight
                      back into the city

in summer it will be the gulls
Samantha Dietz Jun 2021
I don't want to count the crows
Don't want to focus on my woes
When life has me in it's throws
I don't need another omen

I don't want to watch the stars
And wonder where you are
I'd rather you pick up the call
Than hear the line ring open

I don't want to hear that voice
Telling me that you made a choice
When we should just rejoice
Instead of stand here frozen

I don't want to say goodbye
I want you to be alright
Don't want to beg the open sky
Or cry a ******* ocean

I don't want to count the crows
I want you to come home
Without you, you must know
How many hearts will be broken
My friend is in the hospital. I don't want him to die. I dont want to burying another loved one. Please wake up.
Norman Crane May 2021
downpast where the divermin dont go
is an underwater sun
that casts a blackhole shadow
in to the fishes swim
but they donnot swim out
where oh where do they fishes go
after theybin drowngone in the shadow
after theybin infosucked by the blackhole
i say i dont know
but some days i think i seem them
floating on the cloud forms
as crows
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