Thou art a bitter bird, said the raven to the starling.
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Thou are a bitter bird, said the raven to the starling.
Remember Raven
Aah! ooh!
Aah! ooh!
While youre busy trying to conjure dirt upon me,
Your ponys sucked dry by an african bee.
The muck you rake is not enough to keep your turd at sea,
Remember the raven,
Remember the raven.
While your busy trying to weigh your power,
Your boats getting into fast water.
Lifes going down the river of no return,
Remember raven,
Remember raven.
Dont try to be a warden to history,
While trying to find a seat for your posterity.
You better tend your garden for your family.
Remember raven,
Remember raven.
Judas never got the key to heaven, you know.
Raven, raven, remember raven,
Remember raven.
Raven, raven, remember raven,
Remember raven.
Raven, raven, raven.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ravens
The raven is the national bird of Bhutan
It is worn in the royal hat.
The raven is the official bird of the Yukon
And of the city of Yellowknife
King Harald Hardrada carried a raven banner
Called land-waster, a Viking boast
In Sweden the raven is known
As the ghost of a murdered person
In Scotland, a raven's a corbie
Feasting on knights and gallow's meat
The ravens, Hugin and Mugin
Sit upon Odin's shoulders
Their names are Thought and Memory
The raven is the trickster god
Of the Inuit and the Koyukons
The Kingdom of England will fall
If the Tower of London ravens fly away
Hail to the raven,
The Wizard of Skene's familiar
Wise were his ways who had the gift of speech
poem by Sheena Blackhall
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Little Raven
Little raven,
Where did you come from?
Little raven,
With your little black body.
Little raven,
With your long, shinny wings.
Little raven,
In mid flight.
Little raven,
With your frightening caw.
Little raven,
Why are you a sigh of death?
poem by Jameaka Shibles
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Raven, Raven
I took my children to the Zoo.
That was in March of 1993
And there was a sharp wind.
We saw a black
Raven who had stories.
'Are you thirsty, Raven? '
They asked him.
He said: 'Raven, Raven.'
'Are you hungry, Raven? '
He said: 'Raven, Raven'
'Do you have a family, Raven? '
I asked.
He said: 'Raven, Raven.'
We came back smiling
My children and I.
The children left.
We remained: sharp wind and me.
We went to my apartment:
My memories and I.
Unbearable loneliness.
I went to a pub.
The waiter asked:
'Are you thirsty or hungry?
You are not with your kids tonight? '
I replied: 'RAVEN, RAVEN.'
poem by Jankovic Zoran
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Raven Dove
(Dolly Parton)
There will come a day when sorrow fades away,
And anguish and heartache shall ease,
No mothers cryin', no soldiers dyin',
And turmoil and misery shall cease.
The hungry shall be fed, the aimless shall be led
And sad eyes will no longer weep,
The last shall be first, through heaven he'll burst
With his heavenly host from the East
Weapons to plowshares, hate turns to love,
Descending from heaven he'll sweep down to us
In radiant splendor; oh, won't it be sweet
When the raven of darkness turns into a white dove of peace
(Raven dove)
Oh, there will come a day when I'll fly away
Forever to be in his keep
Eternal life in the sweet by and by
When raven dove, raven dove speaks
When lambs walk with lions, a child tames the beast
Nations shall gather and bow at his feet
And loved ones shall rise up from their earthly sleep
And he'll separate all the chaff from the wheat.
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, how sweet
When the raven of darkness turns into a white dove of peace
Raven dove, behold he cometh in the clouds
And every eye shall see him
Sweet bird, sweet bird of peace
Raven Dove
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Raven
I am a raven
Freer than a breeze
Beholding to no one
Doing what I please
I am a raven
Watch me fly
Aeries are for eagles
Not me!
Don’t ask me why
I am a raven
Eating what I please
Sleep anywhere I want
Have no one to appease
I am a raven
You’d better let me by
I’m a bit combative
Might pluck out an eye
I am a raven
Better left alone
Unless inclined to marry
Have ravens of mine own
I am a raven
Feathers black as coal
Robbery my stock in trade
So stay clear
Or I may steal your soul
poem by Ray Lucero
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Another Raven Story (A Fable)
It dost speak and live free.
Tamed by men and virtuous scores
The raven's been scarred and bleeding.
'Nevermore should wounds be healed.
Nevermore must I fly.
Death comes as I glide away,
I'd rather bleed here and die!
To seek freedom is to seek death
As lifespans linger on.
So dost my time clock ticks
Wearing my breath down for long.'
He took his plight and roam the earth
Not wanting to flap his feathered wings.
Mingling with rodents and crawling insects
As birds of his kind flew free.
His wounds have healed in time
But he dost stay there, still.
'I'll live here alone and happy
With a world far beyond my mind.
I, a raven, a bird no more;
A creature of earthly soil.
I declare myself splendid
Above the birds I know.
No bird nor life should call me 'Raven'
For bird am I no more.'
He met some friends,
Some creatures from the ground.
'Why art ye this way? ' They asked.
So he told his story to all.
'But thou art a bird.' Said the other.
'And thou shalt not deny it.' Said one.
'Fortunate ye are with wings
Able to explore horizons.
Unlike us who cannot fly
When fires scorch the seasons.'
After that all departed
Thinking how strange the raven's been.
Feeling unwanted, he left.
Still walking, and not with wings.
Night falls, he finds no shelter.
No caves nor holes to spend the night.
His pride's too big for him to go back
To trees he lived, and once called home.
'Further steps would lead new places.
By far, strive hard and well be patient.
My outstretched legs must be kept working
For me to be strong and survive.'
Says he, the raven, denying flight;
Too proud enough to swallow his pride.
Dawn's arriving though it's still dark.
The raven saw this creature and spoke out loud:
'Ye rat, why dost ye have wings? '
Says he, 'Me not a rat, you see;
A mammal of flight am I, a bat! '
Swung free open his wings and flew,
Glides pass the dark, out of moonlight's sight.
'Is he happy? ' Asked the raven to himself.
Sunrise approaching, but still he hasn't rested.
'Guess I have to use these wings.' Quoth he.
'I have no life wandering. The sky's my life.
How treacherous its pangs may be.'
Bird Life
Perched upon an old wheelbarrow-
Scrutinizing Crow,
commentated long, on all he saw.
Feathered friends, who came to wallow,
splashing in the bird-bath hollow
disregarded Crow's bizarre guffaw.
'Are you starling, from the meadow'?
asked the puzzled crow.
'You fit the bill and yet I see a flaw'.
'Tail feathers, long and narrow,
sharp as swallow's twin-pronged arrow,
force me to admit, I'm quite unsure'.
'I'm the Swarling from the plateau',
bird replied, 'Hello'.
'My plumage is unique and furthermore'-
'Meet my friend, the warbling Starlow,
deft in flight as dancing shadow,
blessed with starling beak and swallow claw'.
'Preposterous'! said crow with gusto,
'strange imbroglio'.
'You must be one or other, it's the law'.
To which the enigmatic duo,
chirped a ringing manifesto.
Crow could think of nowt to say, but 'Caw'.
poem by Diane Hine
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Madam Morganna The Raven Goddess
Morgan
Just like a raven
Your eyes are brown
Like the earth you can withhold
Your name is free
The like raven within you
You escape into the freedom of the sky
With the wings of love
You are calm and smooth
Like the feathers of a raven
You are brave and bold
Once again you are a raven
A symbol of life and peace in an earthy way
Morgan you are the raven that protects the soul
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
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Starling
The starling in the ivy now,
For to amuse his dear,
Mimics the dog, the cat, the cow,
Blackbird and Chanticleer.
The starling's an accomplished mime:
Between his love-making
He solaces her brooding-time
By many a madcap thing.
He is the saw, the spade, the scythe,
He rings the dinner bell;
Chuckles of laughter, small and blithe,
Of self-laudations tell.
Now by the battle-field he mocks
As though 'twere but a game,
Thunder with which the belfry rocks
And the great bursts of flame.
Till when the merriment will pall
He turns to love again,
Calling his love-sick gurgling call
Above the dying men.
Who knows what dream the starling weaves
Of boyhood, soft and clean?
A small room under golden eaves
To which the sun looks in.
The starling's talking in the thatch,
Bidding the boy arise;
And the door's opening on the latch
To show -- his mother's eyes.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Extraction Ravens ^^^
- The raven has stolen-that?
-Cheese, and what? !
- Raven has stolen... - that?
-Words, and what? !
- Raven has stolen... What?
-Notes, and that else!
- Well, also what? !
-Raven sang a song...
-Well, also what? !
- Raven sang all night long....
- Cheese! Give to raven che-e-e-e-se!
25.10.08.
poem by Tsira Gogeshvili
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Peace of Woods
Crow wings
forest green.
bitter cold.
clouds of breath.
the sound of
Wolf.
Calling in the
Dark.
Lost in Quiet.
a Raven
Caws.
spelling its presence and
claws.
CRUNCH.
the Quiet is
Gone.
Raven calls.
Man is here,
in the Wood.
poem by Katherine Steinbauer
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A Raven
Dark bird
Black raven with black wings,
Black eyes as dark as midnight,
Wind flutters his wings,
Shadows turn his head,
And movement catches his stare.
He looks down upon you and watches in dismay,
No black is with in you,
No night in your eyes,
No wings to up lift you,
No shadow to attract you,
And movements pass your gaze.
A raven, A raven, A moonlight silhouette.
A Passing Bell
Mournfully to and fro, to and fro the trees are waving;
What did you say, my dear?
The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a child
Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob—
Yes, my love, I hear.
One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon is braving,
Why not let it ring?
The roses lean down when they hear it, the tender, mild
Flowers of the bleeding-heart fall to the throb—
It is such a little thing!
A wet bird walks on the lawn, call to the boy to come and look,
Yes, it is over now.
Call to him out of the silence, call him to see
The starling shaking its head as it walks in the grass—
Ah, who knows how?
He cannot see it, I can never show it him, how it shook—
Don’t disturb him, darling.
—Its head as it walked: I can never call him to me,
Never, he is not, whatever shall come to pass.
No, look at the wet starling.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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The ravens of Ecclesbourne
The dark shadow of a large corvus
A mere crow,
No'a bird far larger far more supreme,
The harbinger of doom so they say
As if cast from some dark dream.
The raven'
Mystical bird of days of yore,
Glides over me to find a resting place on the cliff
Just beyond the rugged shore.
The silence only broken by their occasional deep croak
A voice far deeper than of any crow that I have heard before.
Like some dark spirit
Free from the confines of the historical tower,
Their dark shadows only eclipsed
By the black clouds of a passing shower.
I stand and watch in fascination
Of their arial acrobatics high above,
Their dark shadows cross and re cross
As if dancing in mutual love.
The stately raven
A bird of legend and steeped in folk law,
Casts a shadow over the grey winter cliffs
A place where the raven reigns supreme and free forever more.
poem by Gordon Butchers
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Petition
OH thou sweet maiden fair,
Thou with the raven hair,
Why to the window go?
While gazing down below,
Art standing vainly there?
Oh, if thou stood'st for me,
And lett'st the latch but fly,
How happy should I be!
How soon would I leap high!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Green Starling
When you look at the green starling
it screams in the long grass,
gleams green in the morning dew
and catches your eye
as it comes out of a hole, out of a tree,
as it picks up insects at a small stream
as it comes out,
as it comes out
as if caught in your daydream.
When you look at the green starling
it sparkles here and there
as if it sometimes is holding onto rays
and it warbles
stretches out under the sun,
view it as a red balloon
stretches out
stretches out
and it would fly away if it could.
When you look at the green starling
it pecks at a sorrel
when at times it holds onto a big worm
before it sings a song of joy
flies up fluttering, spreading its wings
and for moments distract you,
flies up fluttering
flies up fluttering
and so a whole mornings swishes past.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Raven Crows
The Raven Crows
by Charles Robert Hice on Thursday, November 22,2012 at 9: 27pm ·
The Raven Crows
The Raven stretches its wings and flies into the gray winter skies while the raven flies it Crows its rawkish voice makes aweful noise
it blows the wind it howls and sounds like a mechanical noise inside the wind
the noise pretends to be the raven as it crows it flies it crows and flies it dives down into the wind and sounds like a noise falling fast and then it sort of dies and falls away not the sound it echoes and it blows
in the middle of the night no one can see the ravens flight but they hear the voice the noise the sound even the wings they flap they glide silent and they hide
The raven seldom crows when it is in its glide it falls and hides no one can see the feathers as it plummets from the sky it moves in a silent fashion
as the raven glides it hides from the eyes of the men it has a sense of reality and a purpose as it glides it looks neither to the left or to the right finally it is satisfied with its destination in its sight the raven crows one final time and plummets like a stone into the night and suddenly a poem is come to earth as Poe hears his famous bird not the crow the rook or the blackbird as it sings but the Raven as it speaks to only him
Nevermore
The Raven Crows
poem by Charles Hice
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I Hear The Raven Sing
I can hear the raven sing,
I can hear the raven sing,
He calls out my name,
I can hear the raven sing,
He calls out to me,
His song is singing in the wind,
I can hear the raven sing,
Thunder breaks a silent moment,
Then he calls out my name,
A spiritual glow envelops,
Medicine power develops,
As the raven sings,
A rainbow doubled,
My minds not troubled,
As I hear the raven sing,
It’s time to go home,
My ancestors wait for me,
The welcome hand is extended,
My place around the council fire reserved,
I hear the raven sing,
There, all that was, is preserved,
And the message of the raven heard.
My Vision my Dream.
Osceola Birdman Waters.
Copy rights pending.
Dedicated to Billy White Fox.
poem by Osceola Waters
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