A Short Poem Entitled: The Raven

An odd image displayed on the television screen within my head the other day, it was that of a raven. It led me to Google ravens, such beautiful birds, but always seen as a somewhat sombre sight. Their being is steeped in myth and folklore, as are many animals in our world, and it makes me sad that we don’t listen to these myths any longer. Perhaps they might help us to decide on the future of mankind, which, let’s face it, is doing a pretty disastrous job of protecting itself. So, in my thoughts, inspired by the television in my head, or is it a cinema? Maybe I should add curtains, I have written the following little piece about a raven.

The Raven

A crow, its feet, lines across your eyes, spring, dart, hop, to where? Unknown, a dance of madness to no tune. Sqwuak, there is the sound, like a siren blaring through a siesta, ruining concentration; and then it decides to eat, a cavern opens, nipping at the ground with a cruel beak, like a small road worker creating a hole, and thus, creating a nightmare for those who have to cross it. The crow, a raven, symbol of death because it is black; how crude, symbol of sorrow and pain, there are some white folk who also create that. Yet, symbol of prophecy, better, Romans you know, always looking on the bright side of life. The crow, it gets a raw deal, perhaps it is the noise, like a teacher scraping nails onto a blackboard, why is everything black seen as a negative? Perhaps there is something in that. I once befriended an African child at school, and was beaten up for the privilege, he did not stay long. Gone, on the run, running from reality. Perhaps we should all do the same. Maybe we are. Crows watch us, waiting, ? Their baritone birdsong contrasting starkly to Blake’s heavenly landscape, now the song is cut short by the blaring of current life, the incessant noise of towns rip through your brain and concentration is lost. Peace is what is needed, then perhaps we can all think, think again, and make a constructive judgement, rather than jumping in with war. Peace is what the crow sings for, humans should follow. Gaia is shared, crows have their place, they foresee the end of humans.