The crow
On this summer's day
A crow is eating litchi
From a full-grown tree!
poem by Asif Andalib

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Goodbye Mr Crow
This morning I saw Mr Crow lying on the ground,
he was as dead as dead could be.
Yesterday he was hopping about eating worms,
and now the worms will be eating he.
Mrs Crow was looking down from a branch
of an enormous chestnut tree.
Yesterday she was by the side of Mr Crow,
she knew something was wrong with he.
She then flew down to the side of Mr Crow
and tried to wake him anxiously,
but rigor mortis had taken place,
which left her squawking frantically.
poem by Orlando Belo

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Crows Words
Crow and
Crow...
On the tree...
Speak one crow
With another crow
'Kaa kaa kaaaa'
Another crow
Also...
'Kaa kaa kaaaa'
Speaking
This is crow words
You i did not
Understand ok...O...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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Broken Rhythm
A fat crow drops onto
The very tip of the top
Branch of a barren tree.
It sways with the branch
As if riding the hand
Of a metronome.
We're swept up in
The rhythm, the crow
The tree and me.
Then a hard gust
From the east
Or west and
The tree becomes a bull,
The crow a bullrider and
I'm on the edge of my seat
Waiting for something bad
To happen.
poem by Francis Santaquilani

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Our Tree
When spring comes round, our apple tree
Is very full of flowers,
And when a bird sits on a branch
The petals fall in showers.
When summer comes, our apple tree
Is very full of green,
And everywhere you look in it
There is a leafy screen.
When autumn comes, our apple tree
Is full of things to eat.
The apples hang from every branch
To tumble at our feet.
When winter comes, our apple tree
Is full of snow and ice
And rabbits come to visit it...
We think our tree is nice.
poem by Marchette Chute

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Crow to cat
Cat run
Run to
Run to
Not catch rat...
Watch the crow...
On the tree
Crow sit and eat
Fry fish...
Cat want crow fish
So...
Cat woory hurry...
Watch the crow...
Crow crowing too
Eat the fry fish
Fly too fly...
Cat feel free
For stomach...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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Long Long Ago
On the
The
Street...
Crow
was eated
Some of food
Call ka... ka...
All crow was
Coming...
Eating food...
Crow was
Only flying bird
Thay was
Eat help for
Each crows...
But...
The man canno't
Do...!
Why...
Human
Sens was
Dead on man+men's
Long long ago...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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I have no desire to crow over anybody or to see anybody eating crow, figuratively or otherwise. We should all get together and make a country in which everybody can eat turkey whenever he pleases.
quote by Harry S. Truman

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Crow and The Butterfly
Ever wonder why the Crow chases the Butterfly?
Have you ever heard the Crow let out it's cry?
I think I found out why...
It's quite the interesting story, I had to pry..
The Butterfly's beauty, the Crow's will never match.
The Crow's life is nothing compared the the Butterfly's since it's first hatch.
If you are good enough to get a Butterfly, that is quite a catch.
Get a Crow somehow and it gets thrown right back out to the patch.
The Crow has had it so much easier than the Butterfly.
Straight jealousy from the Crow because they have to share the sky.
The Butterfly's flight is reason to stare, the Crow's just reason to cry.
Everyone stops to get a glance of a Buttflies, a few Crows and people pass by.
So if you ever hear a Crow cry,
Or see a Butterfly being chased by a Crow,
Just think how bad that Crow wants to be a Butterfly.....
poem by Joe Gosart

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Summer Can Sizzle Hot
The eating of 'crow' and humble pie,
Is not so easy...
For one young with stars in their eyes.
Especially if the cranking up of hype is believed.
Who could avoid,
Wearing such loftiness on their sleeves.
With TV and the media all up in one's face.
And flashbulbs from cameras...
Paparazzied all over the place.
I would believe I could walk on water too!
Wouldn't you?
Especially if you were given visions,
Of wearing a crown instead of disgrace to boo hoo.
The eating of 'crow' and humble pie,
Is not so easy...
For one young with stars in their eyes.
Especially if the cranking up of hype is believed.
Who could avoid,
Wearing such loftiness on their sleeves.
But when a season ends,
And the attention leaves...
There are tears and loneliness,
No one sees as one grieves.
And a Summer can sizzle hot...
When reality sets in on shoulders to drop.
'Did you get that from King James? '
In a way.
From my own observation.
And more of a whiff of it from Revelations.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Death Of A Crow
Death Of A Crow
halloween night
in a city park
a dead crow
under an elm tree
I was there
standing alone
a flash light in hand
wet in autumn rain
looking
children in raincoat
passed by
a police car siren
wailed and faded
into distant darkness
no elegy
no dirge
no requiem
no tomb stone
a crow's death
is not tragic
and that is the tragedy
of the crow's death
Battered Suitcase, v 1, issue 3, oct 2008
poem by Suchoon Mo_

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Old Jim Crow
Ron vander groef, jackie alper, nina simone
Old jim crow
Where you been baby
Down mississippi and back again
Old jim crow dont you know
Its all over now
Old jim crow
Whats wrong with you
It aint your name
Its the things you do
Old jim crow dont you know
Its all over now
Old jim crow
Youve been around too long
Gotta work the devil
til your dead and gone
Old jim crow
Yes, dont you know
Its all over now
Its all over now
Old jim crow
You know its true
When you hurt my brother
You hurt me too
Old jim crow dont you know
Its all over now
Old jim crow
I thought I had you beat
Now I see you walkin
And talkin up and down my street
Old jim crow dont you know
Its all over now
Old jim crow
Youve been around too long
Gotta work the devil
til your dead and gone
Old jim crow dont you know
Its all over
All over
Oh lord, its all over
All over
Its all over
Its all over
Its all over now.
song performed by by Nina Simone

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Crow
Theres a crow flying
Black and ragged
Tree to tree
Hes black as the highway thats leading me
Now hes diving down
To pick up on something shiny
I feel like that black crow
Flying
In a blue sky
I took a ferry to the highway
Then I drove to a pontoon plane
I took a plane to a taxi
And a taxi to a train
Ive been traveling so long
Howm I ever going to know my home
When I see it again
Im like a black crow flying
In a blue, blue sky
In search of love and music
My whole life has been
Illumination
Corruption
And diving, diving, diving, diving.
Diving down to pick up on every shiny thing
Just like that black crow flying
In a blue sky
I looked at the morning
After being up all night
I looked at my haggard face in the bathroom light
I looked out the window
And I saw that ragged soul take flight
I saw a back crow flying
In a blue sky
Oh Im like a black crow flying
In a blue sky
song performed by by Joni Mitchell

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mistake of Fact!
Crow! Crow!
Male crow! Female crow!
Love each other,
Wife and husband;
Wife crow lays eggs,
All are white!
Husband crow suspects
Loyalty and fidelity;
Ignorant husband,
Innocent wife,
Wife crow shows
other nests;
Trust assured
Sorry sorry,
Mistake of Fact, Forget it,
We love for ever!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan

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COOL full TREE's
Tree's
Are
Ntaure' fan...'s...!
Fun of
Tree's...
To
The earth...!
To
Sun fire
Hot...
Catching
Green full
Umberlaw's...
The tree's...
Simply
Earth
Evean joy
Tree's...
Air counition
Of tree's
Shadow..
Hut
The sun fre
Cool full...
Collor full...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar

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It's Summer
It’s summer.
Dogs barking in closed cars.
It’s summer.
Blisters from your new sandals.
It’s summer.
Flabby asses eating their shorts.
It’s summer.
poem by Jane Brunton

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16 Shells From A 30-06
Words and music by tom waits
Plugged 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
And the black crow flew through
A hole in the sky
And I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule
And I made me a ladder ftom a pawn shop marimba
And I leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Well I cooked them feathers on the iron spit
And I filled me a sachel full of old pig corn
And I beat me a billy from an old french horn
And kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Blew me a hole bout the size of a kickdrum
And I cut me a switch from a long branch elbow
Im gonna whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
Whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
Well I slept in the hotter of a dry creek bed
And I tore out the buckets from a red corvette
Tore out the buckets from a red corvette
Lionel, dave and the butcher made three
You got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinny bone tree
With the strings of a washburn
Stretched like a clothesline
You know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Im gonna whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells ftom a thirty-aught-six
Whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
Now I hold him prisoner in a washburn jail
And I strapped it on the back of my old kick mule
Strapped it on the back of my old kick mule
Bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
And I strum it toud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Im gonna whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
Whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
song performed by by Bob Seger

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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About A Fruitful Summer (Cavatina Sequence)
The oak size avocado tree had fruit
during the spring
and into summer, like small pineapples,
with some dropping
to the earth, bursting like hand grenades,
I was picking
from a ladder set on the cobble stones,
dropping down to mother the greater ones.
The two dogs had their fill from those broken,
the roof was struck
while some were falling down like rocks at night,
by some great luck
they just missed the neighbour's nearby car,
more I did pluck
for the neighbours, friends and the family
and they all tasted butter-sweet to me.
At the plum tree the birds were twittering,
the long ladder
swayed under me on the moist soft ground,
I did gather
buckets and boxes full, was startled
by a adder
that was green and hissed in the large tree
and I dropped down to the ground to be free.
The vineyard was full of Catawba grapes,
with their sweet scent,
their essence, filling the summer air,
evanescent
was the summer, but mother was happy,
she did present
to the ladies at church some baskets full,
while I met a girl that is beautiful.
poem by Gert Strydom

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A Tree Mouse
Wherever you go, you’ll see them
assorted coloured tree mice.
They can be white, black, red and grey.
I must admit I have never seen one
with poker-dot spots,
by now your asking
what the heck is a tree mouse.
Well they are bushy tailed rodents
that love nuts and fruit and other assorted things.
Like a cat, they’ll raid a dustbin or two.
They scamper across our lawn
come the summer time
even do a high wire act
when cables are off the grown.
They tease the neighbourhood cats
with their arial displays
saying come and catch me if you can.
Knowing full well the poor cat
is no tightrope walker.
They are cheeky little fellows
and you cannot help watching them.
If you have a bag of peanuts
and your not quick enough
they will climb down your arm
help themselves, then grab the lot.
Some people call them a pest
and I know a few cats
would agree with that.
Personally, I get great pleasure
watch the tree mice play.
11 September 2009
poem by David Harris

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Disaster Sprees
For the moment at least,
It looks as if there's been a freeze,
On leaders who speak of peace
While shopping around to spread,
Disaster sprees.
People have grown tired
Of pointing fingers at foes,
And revealing new enemies...
When everyone seems to be one of those!
With hidden agendas becoming more exposed...
No one can be blamed for appearing less composed.
Especially when it's discovered
Who we now watch eating 'crow'! !
As millions who followed a piper they believed...
Would lead them UP to the light,
To a freedom they can see!
Not DOWN a dismal deadend road!
Too dark to return for him to recompose!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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The Caw, Caw
On your dais of a mango twig
You tune your pitch gently swaying
Even before the sanguine sun trig
Seen on the horizon rising
Your caw caresses me through the window
Like that of the mango breeze
Hazily finding over there a dark halo
I sit up, a little laze
'Good morning crow'
' Caw caw' you beak a hello
8o'clock, a rice-ball at the window sill
Our first guest you're full
There, grand-son querying in haste
'sanaishwar rides this crow? '
Your then caw caw do I translate
'Greatest great grand-pa alone' says this crow
Stone-fixed ever with his Lord'...O crow!
True or false, all your myths..?
poem by Indira Renganathan

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