Raven on the *****,

we follow dad to the grave --


Then it's time to cry.

On a night, dark and dreary,
I mused, wearily.
Whatever was I to do
With it watching me?

Wings as black as night,
Ink dripping, feathers like knives.
It has eyes like stars
In a somber, summer sky.

It turned its head and trilled,
Exactly 13 times.
Each note an alarm of distress
Inside my plagued mind.

It was here for me.
It shuffled its black feathers
And unfurled its dark wings,
Showing nothing but a heart.

This heart, my life, my ever-
Changing tune. This song
Began lively, crescendoing.
Ending with a thump.

I watched it falter.
I stared at it and counted.
I got to thirteen,
And then I watched as it stopped.

I miss you just so much right now!
I want to hug you more and more!
And I’ll remember for a long time
That dark and gentle night ardour.

The sky was like a raven plumage,
A canvas for all stars in whole.
You hugged my shoulders, stroked my hair.
We were engaged to love at all.

And on the roof, as at the sky door,
We peered into the heart of stars.
We met a cart of boltless lightning.
It slipped the voile of love on us.

There was no fear, there was no doubt.
Only the sky and me and you.
It was my unforgettable moment!
You’re here, darling! I love you!

Blackest of feather
Skin Whitest of Porcelain
Flutter of my heart.

…  my heart is made of birds
                      chirping …………   it’s about time,
for the raven to leave,

sunrise on cotton leaves …..
                               singing in the dew shower,
                                                        It’s about time
For the raven to leave,

…. a full forest singing just for me,
                                                     IT’ S ABOUT TIME
For the R-A-V-E-N to leave

I stumbled upon it—
this ruin, veiled in ivy,
its ribs of stone strangled
by nature’s lace.

A withered door hangs
on one iron thread—
the last breath of smiths
dressed in oxide.

Fractured silence beckons
childish will to explore.
Danger wrapped in lichen,
blight decays the frame.

Dense fog dulls the raven’s
black wings—set the tone.
Moss-laden windows,
sinew stripped from bone.

To be continued....

By Darren Wall

A black raven soars up high,
Bringing hope across the sky.
It sees the world with shining eyes,
And whispers dreams that never die.

A darker crow, with doubts so deep,
Believes that darkness is all to keep.
But the other flies on, free and bright,
Reminding us of love’s true light.

One sees the night, the other the day,
Together they carry hope on their way.
Even dark and wise ravens teach us how,
To see the world with open hearts now.

Not even Black
***** brownish grey
with wings that do not fly
only good to cover his eyes
discarded by rejection
he only comes out at night
on crinkly legs
walking by  the riverside
the trees nod for they do not care
in the park
pretty women meander at dusk
no one will see him
no one will bother
there will be someone always
to ring the bells

Struck by the gloss of the ebony plumage
of the raven in starlight.
His eyes an oily mystery
of the perpetual return of night.
Fascinated by his burrowing stare
at the gnarled knot in the tree.
That furnished a nest of naive robin's eggs.
Under inevitable seize.
Meaningful change has an approaching leg,
the wicked raven confides.
A need to explore the shadows
that dwell inside.
I've made companions of
the midnight hours.
In keeping with the natural order,
the pale blue eggs are greedily devoured.
To be who I am.
I left empowered.

A, Norwe-
         gian, fjord,
             overlooking, loftily.
                        Like, sixteen-
                        aged, potential,
                   love. Like, several,
                         protege's; full,
                           and, predicted,
                                            futures.
                           The, raven's, eye,
                   intersects, the snow,
                       as, though, a, beauty,
spot, on, translucent, skins; a-black
-serpentine-rock-set-in-silver-sutures.
           I, counted, to, nine, as, the
magic, faded......... Mountainous,
                    terrain, murmured, with,
                           feathered, subtlety.
"To be, a fjord, is, to, truly, view,
   the world, &, know, cascading, change,
                      over, those, that, are, newer."

© poormansdreams