#crows
Black plumes through blossom
She guards her nest, come sunset
he alights beside
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 4:08 AM UTC
There is a crow- maybe it’s a raven.
Who knows.
It stares at you, watching as you lay in the grass. Watching as your bones creak, fill and break.
It watches you die, and it does not leave. People whom you’ve never even seen cry for you, not for your death but for the forever empty soul.
You’re a husk.
You’re a husk, and the crow knows you're still conscious. Intelligence more so than humanity tenfold.
And it follows you to wherever the finished stories go.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 6:24 PM UTC
There is a crooked forest
Where lulabies wear thin,
The crows all hum in broken keys
And bar the daylight in.
They nest within a crooked oak,
They warm the eggs with care,
They tap the shells with patient beaks
To coax the breath in there.
From one shell crawls a crooked thing
That purrs, then shows its teeth,
Two heads stitched tight on one small spine,
Both hollowed out by need.
One cries for fields and gentler hands,
For clover, fence, and pen.
The other learns the taste of bone
And counts it's hungers ten.
The forest listens. Crows draw near.
The night hold what was hatched.
They rock it with their crooked songs
Of debts that can’t be matched.
And if it calls your name aloud,
Its voices sound like you.
It wants a palm to warm its skin,
And something more than true.
Feb 18
Feb 18, 2026 at 5:43 AM UTC
I lost my fourth crow just the other day
It landed here with me but it flew away
I watched it fly south with the rest of my dreams
Then the other two left, leaving one with me
One crow for sorrow, is that what they say?
That one crow flies over my head every day
They say that my fourth crow will come back home
But I really don't see it and I really don't know
'Cause I've been waiting for that fourth crow for as long as I can cope
Waiting on that fourth crow to bring me back my Hope
Waiting, hoping, crying, praying, asking for a way
For God to send my fourth crow to get me through today
The sky is full of clouds and my shoes are full of rain
And my eyes are full of water and my heart is full of pain
The rain is never-ending and the sky is always dark
But I never go in; the rain has left its mark
I lie on my back and watch the storm rage on
And I wish for the sun and for the clouds to be gone
They say that the sky will show a rainbow for me
But that's hard to believe when only clouds I see
'Cause I've been waiting for that rainbow for as long as I can cope
Waiting for the clouds to move and bring me back my Hope
Waiting, hoping, crying, praying, asking for the sun
For God to send a rainbow, for the darkness to be done
Every night I look up at the night sky to see
If maybe there's a star with a message for me
But my night sky is black, not a star in sight
Not a single point of reference or a single pin of light
Do the stars still exist when their lights don't show?
If I can't see them, can I really truly know?
They say that the stars are up there, shining bright
But I don't think that's true when I look at the night
'Cause I've been waiting for a star-filled night for as long as I can cope
Waiting for the light to shine and bring me back my Hope
Waiting, hoping, crying, praying, asking for a light
For God to let the stars shine down to get me through tonight
'Cause I've been waiting for a sign out there, to show me it's alright
For a fourth crow, a rainbow, or a cloudless, star-filled night
Waiting, hoping, crying, praying, asking for a way
For God to give me a reason to get me through today
Jan 26
Jan 26, 2026 at 4:23 PM UTC
The day of the wedding
I sold my soul to purity.
Mannequins in a store window
adorned in their conformity.
The death of spring
before it began
The birth of February,
and many a kiss.
Glittering, flittering
memories I missed.
What started as whispers
took off in flight
Over my head–
out of my sight
Buried deep in my soul.
I give my sorrows
to return to that place.
Black wings, a funeral.
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 11:10 PM UTC
High aloft,
Deep in leaf,
Talons locked,
Lest he sleep,
Crow is perched,
He guards their keep.
Unseen, all seeing,
His eyes must know,
Who is friend, what is foe.
Those dawns I cross
The cold bare floor to
Barefoot step
Through kitchen door,
Rising to the skies I hear
My secret raucous name ring clear
As Crow cries out
For Clan to hear,
Friend is here,
Our friend is here.
Then such Love and joy I feel,
And peace of heart
The Night to heal.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 11:44 PM UTC
I woke up before the noise,
breathed with the trees,
walked with the sky.
The sun hadn't yawned yet,
but I had — twice.
Back home, I made coffee
strong enough to slap me awake.
I whispered to my cup,
"Let's be productive today."
It didn’t answer —
but I believed in us.
I sat down with math—
chapter four, page full of promises.
I underlined the heading,
adjusted my pen cap five times,
then sharpened a pencil
I didn’t even need.
Pro-level procrastination unlocked.
Midway through one sad-looking equation,
my phone lit up—
first a comment,
then a reel,
then a cat dancing to lo-fi beats.
Fifteen minutes later,
I knew three dessert recipes
and forgot the formula
I never really knew.
Suddenly, a line hit me—
not from the textbook,
but from somewhere softer.
A poem idea.
Just a line, I thought.
A quick jot.
A harmless verse.
But the line grew limbs,
called in stanzas,
and started demanding metaphors.
So I gave in.
I gave it my quiet,
my hours,
my last sip of cold coffee.
A crow watched me
from the window grill
like it knew
I was failing both maths and time.
And now—
the sun is long gone,
the sky has tucked itself in.
The poem is finished,
polished and breathing.
But that chapter?
Still untouched.
Still waiting.
Aug 16, 2025
Aug 16, 2025 at 12:58 PM UTC
I walk down to the Pegnitz river.
I walk along the banks of green and white flowers —
a quiet place of respite,
smelling both sweet and fowl.
Both the crow and the swan venture on its water’s roof,
never daring to enter the house that man has built.
She lay below and looked up to see,
the black eyes of an eager crow
glaring through the glass.
To cry underwater is not impossible, to learn is fatal.
A baby’s cry can never be silenced in the mind of a mother.
A girl with no direction,
pulled through life by a man’s cruel hands,
In the name of the father!
A mother must pay.
But it is only she who knows that water
cannot wash her sins away.
She stares back at the world - taken from her.
Will anyone visit?
Utter sweet prayers?
Send the mocking crow away?
I throw a lump in the crow’s direction.
It scraws into the sky.
The wise swan takes the bread.
Instead of death,
I sent her a swan instead.
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 7:14 AM UTC
almost every day
as i walk the dogs
up the hill
two crows
wait for me
at the entrance
to the woods
they swoop low
cawing as they land
on the sign post
or sometimes simply
a matter of paces
ahead of me
hopeful
it would seem
that their display
of such bravery
is noticed and
perhaps rewarded
i couldn't help
but name them
and each time
they appear
talk to them
asking how
their day is going
while leaving
a handful
of dog kibble
as i walk on
to thank them
for their visit
in the hope
that their courage
my kindliness
time and persistence
might bring us
closer still
Jun 17, 2025
Jun 17, 2025 at 11:58 AM UTC
Everything’s broken, shattered,
Scattered completely asunder.
And I’m left as a steppe mat grass.
Only crows go round and thunder.
Only crows go round, and their wings
Chase out my reckless life.
I should run after her, but I’m beat.
I can’t catch up with her. I’m lowlife.
I’m lowlife. I can’t hand her back.
I would apologise! I'd confess!
Everything went amiss with us.
It’s a shame that we'll get no chance.
May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 6:03 PM UTC
Believe me officer,
I know the crows.
I know their black feathers,
Their call is cold,
It terrifies me.
I used to count them,
2 is safe,
3 is a warning,
4 is an omen,
5 is too late,
6 is a ******
Six means death.
So what was I to do,
When I counted seven up in the roost?
I blew them back to hell,
No more counting,
No more omens.
Is killing those **** birds,
Really a crime?
May 4, 2025
May 4, 2025 at 9:19 PM UTC
I've got a pair.
I keep 'em in my underwear:
Two eggs in a nest of hair.
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 7:01 PM UTC
I’ve got to pull myself together.
I’m loss.
I’m scattered roughly by the wind,
Back and forth.
I’ve fallen to the ground, and all crows
Are on top.
They’re circling, circling, restless devils,
And don’t stop.
Shhh! Fly away! I’m going to.
I’ve got to restore myself to this body.
It’s the right way.
My body's awkward, enfeebled indeed –
Just get away!
I’ve lived in it, learnt a lot in it.
I swear!
I’ve loved, created, broken and lost, but lived
Just anywhere!
Shhh! Right-on. It’s my body.
It’s time to go out. There’s nothing to do here
At all.
No need to catch emptiness or uselessly freak
For all.
Believe, disbelieve, wait or don't wait
Any more.
It’s time to go out. I don’t want to stay here.
What for?
Shhh! It’s enough! I've got tired of lies.
Feb 18, 2025
Feb 18, 2025 at 3:10 PM UTC
Winter crows
who cling to stalks of freezing corn,
bathe in better times to come
and drink the glow of summer not yet born
Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 5:27 AM UTC
Come far away, come fly away.
It’s another day in the sun.
don’t know where to go, just followin the road
running won’t change our fate.
where does the highway go to die ?
We’re too far now
I feel the breath of a gun on my neck
I can already feel the crows staring to peck
all we can do is wait till they come.
Come far away, come fly away.
another day in the sun.
waiting for the crows to come
Time to face what we have done
there’s nowhere left to run.
How long stands between us and a shot gun.
Come far away, come fly away.
It’s another day in the sun.
Till the crows come.
Nov 4, 2024
Nov 4, 2024 at 12:30 AM UTC
I'm at times just like a crow,
And I see what you don't know.
There preening in the early dawn,
You hear my caw when your light turns on.
I watch you rake your yellow lawn,
I hear you cry when you hear your song,
As your long and lonely days drag on.
Like wings I'll wrap my arms about you,
I'll never fly again without you.
Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 1:32 PM UTC
crow cries metalling the skies
supply the greys
and hack up the winds
Sep 26, 2024
Sep 26, 2024 at 9:36 PM UTC
How many crows
Would a scarecrow scare
If a scarecrow could scare crows?
As many crows
As a scarecrow'd care to scare
If a scarecrow could scare crows.
Aug 25, 2024
Aug 25, 2024 at 9:32 AM UTC
(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.
Jan 26, 2024
Jan 26, 2024 at 8:54 AM UTC
Crows on Autumn corn
challenge the wind
for the remains of Summer
Aug 30, 2023
Aug 30, 2023 at 9:40 AM UTC
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
Aug 15, 2023
Aug 15, 2023 at 4:22 PM UTC
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-boned organic chickens.
Forage mushrooms righteously
Whilst wondering if they’ll make us sick.
I try to get it right
Over and over again
Jul 27, 2023
Jul 27, 2023 at 4:52 AM UTC