The Little Black Cormorant
By inlet and islet and wide river reaches,
By lake and lagoon I'm at home,
Yet oft' the far forests of blue-gum and beeches
About the broad ranges I roam,
'There's a strange, sombre bird with a hook in his beak.'
'Tis the little black cormorant raiding your creek.
And woe to the fisher and woe to the fishes
A gourmand I freely confess
When I come a-searching for succulent dishes,
Arrayed in my funeral dress,
Then the fishermen rave, and in anger they speak:
'There's a little black cormorant coming up creek!'
But I'm quick and I'm cunning, as many a greyling,
A blackfish, a trout or a bream
Has known to his sorrow when down I go sailing
To hunt him beneath the dark stream.
To my cavernous maw then they all come alike,
And 'tis death should the little black cormorant strike.
But I am an outlaw. I'm hunted and harried,
I'm banned from the havens of men.
And woe is to me if to long I have tarried
A shot o'er the waters - and then,
There is reason indeed for my funeral dress,
For, alas, here's a little black cormorant less.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Morning Cormorant
A sudden sight, a wonder in the humdrum
Among the thronging streets of run-down London
Upon the river bank, crammed in by traffic
A perched, black bird, though nothing as dramatic
As flocks of squawking seagulls on the common
But this sole, common shag won't be forgotten:
Uncommon cormorant, a seaside fisher
Who chose to catch his fish in my New River,
A morning miracle of inspiration
That brightened my dull bus-ride to the station.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Black Dress
Every woman has one in her closet,
Although some are loathe to confess.
It’s perfect for many occasions.
It is known as the little black dress..
For Women who seek to entice,
or have men they want to impress.,
There is nothing terribly virginal
concerning that little black dress.
Its of Spidery inspiration and,
oh, what a web they can weave.
They use it, some say, ensnaring their prey.
It comes out again when they grieve.
In Wedding, our Ladies wear white.,
A Little black dress when they keen.
They dress in subtler shades of gray
on all the days in between.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Warning Signs
If years have passed and your children are grown
The mortgage is paid and you have a second home
And in the garage are Mercedes’ and Jag’s and parked
At the dock is a yacht.
If you find your wife in a black tennis dress
Her face all covered by a gossamer shroud
At the funeral of an old friend,
You had better check around for emergent webs,
And a bright red spot on a shiny black bug
The next funeral your attend
Could well be your own...
poem by Stephen S. Yeandle
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Way Of Life
Ive been away from home
Was outta sight
No other change has come
Who let the boredom in
We got our rockin rights
Well overcome
The mirror never lies
Well show em how its done
We always dress in black
To be unkind
We always dress in black
With you in mind
Its the way of life we live - you know where we are coming from
Its the way of life we live in - and were not wrong
cause its the way of life we live - you know where we are coming from
Its the way of life we live in - we are the strong
We never will deceive
Take no double-talk
And all the fat cats bull
Dont like the way we walk
They spit behind our backs
Unwelcomed class
But its way down deep
They wanna be like us
We always dress in black, ...
Its the way of life we live, ...
Time is ticking by
For you life is such a lie
You clipped your wings to fly
You could have had it all - but!
Work nine to five
Finish fifty-five
Only born to die
You ever been alive?
We always dress in black, ...
Its the way of life we live, ...
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In these cormorant hours
I’ve never begun to understand,
The sea changing patterns beholden,
With holding onto a woman’s hand,
No matter how many times
Unwilled she can be emboldened.
The ever changing wind still chimes
With me!
The ever changing green sea grimes
Deep in the deepest blue coral waves
Of the world,
In the darkest barroom grave
With me!
Just to be hurled,
Unbroken like a bird like a wave
Sucked out on a storm just to be free!
In these cormorant hours spent swift
On the wind like a sparrow hawk
With the thoughts of these old lovers up lift
On these wings I still feel strong, but hark
I still feel in my heart
The emptiness of the dark
As a marginal, migrant, migrating
Longing to go back into the virginal bay
I left battered and bereft
A long, long, long time away!
Looking further from my lovers reach
Back along the stony cliffs
Unto the foaming beach
In a whirlpool of memory I’m split into fifths
Like the lemming jumping off the cliffs
I high tale because I can’t be beholden
To an emboldened smile
No matter whomever you think you are!
This time! or any time my cormorant star!
16
poem by Mark Heathcote
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How hard for me, the splendor of this crown and robe
-- How hard for me, the splendor of this crown and robe,
amidst my shame --
-- In stony Troezen will be an infamous calamity,
the royal staircase will grow red with disgrace,
. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
and for the mother in love,
the black sun will rise.
-- O, if hate would boil in my breast --
but see, the admission itself
has fallen from my lips.
-- Phedre burns in a black flame
in broad daylight.
The funeral torch fumes
in broad white daylight.
Dread your mother, Hippolytus:
Phedre -- night -- watche s over you
in broad white day.
-- I have stained the sun with black love . . .
Death from a bottle will cool my ardor --
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
-- We are afraid, we do not dare
relieve the king's grief.
Wounded by Theseus, night
fell upon him. But we,
with a funeral song bringing home the dead,
will pacify the black sun
of wild and sleepless passion.
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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Devil With The Black Dress On
Wash off those scabs dear
or fingernail pick them clean
Pray to all your long lost demons
and justify your means
Devil has a new shape
Devil has a new ride
Devil has a problem but he locks it up inside
Shit angel
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to own me angel
cause I own you now you're gone
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to hate me angel
cause I hate you now you're gone
Did you believe it cause I said so
Did you believe it was true
Did you believe it cause I said so angel
I sure lied to you
Did you believe it cause I said so
Did you believe it was true
I'm eternal and infernal and I sure lied to you
Shit angel
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to own me angel
cause I own you now you're gone
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to hate me angel
cause I hate you now you're gone
Good girl with the black eyes
Believe in future past
Everything that I want happens
See how long that lasts
Devil has a hot rod
Devil high on speed
Devil has a black dress
So her arms can bleed
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to know me angel
cause I know you now you're gone
Kids sure like the devil these days
and I'm the devil with the black dress on
Do you want to hurt me angel
cause I'm hurting now you're gone
Go go go gone
Go go go gone
Go go go go go go go
Gone
song performed by by Jack Off Jill from Sexless Demons And Scars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is Black?
What is Black?
Black is the night,
Closing in around you
Also the shadow
That’s everywhere you go
Black is a colour
Worn at a funeral
Black is the death raven
Telling you where to go
Eating away at your heart is a demon
Fighting it a deadly foe
In the war of
Light against dark
Dark will prevail
When the moon rises
Light will prevail
When the moon falls
poem by Taylor MacDonald
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Babe
granting that you want to be transformed into a fish,
let me be your aggressive cormorant.
i will take you whole.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The crow that mimics a cormorant gets drowned.
His Funeral
MULTICOLORED umbrellas
marching the black road
towards his final resting place
this is his funeral
people cross the bridge
of the blue river
the day is bright
and the grief is light
He must have
IF he were still alive
Disliked it
He wants black umbrellas all along
Black suits
Blue flowers
A rainy day
He wants his departure to be sad
He has many unfinished business
Too may sins still
Without the penance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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HIS FUNERAL (edited)
MULTICOLORED umbrellas
marching the black road
towards his final resting place
this is his funeral
people cross the bridge
of the blue river
the day is bright
and the grief is light
He must have
IF he were still alive
Disliked it
He wants black umbrellas all along
Black suits
Blue flowers
A rainy day
He wants his departure to be sad
He has many unfinished businesses
Too many sins still
Unforgiven
And needing the penance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ferdinand: Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register'd upon our brazen tombs
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
The endeavor of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge
And make us heirs of all eternity.
line from Love's Labour's Lost, Act I, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1598)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Fate Of The Black Bird
the black bird flies alone against the blue sky
it is lonely and that is the truth that lies in every black feather of its strong wings
if only it can change its course
and find a place where there are other black birds like it
perhaps it will turn back and learn to sing the song of the black flock
it is not a way of life that its father had handed to it upon its beak and claws
it is not even a choice and never did it ever imagine that it shall be alone against the blue skies
against the black nights and against the towering peaks of mountains
there is no other way of rationalizing about it except fate,
it is the destiny that chose its path and it is simply following the dictates of the stars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shag
"What is that great bird, sister, tell me,
Perched high on the top of the crag?"
"'T is the cormorant, dear little brother;
The fishermen call it the shag."
"But what does it there, sister, tell me,
Sitting lonely against the black sky?"
"It has settled to rest, little brother;
It hears the wild gale wailing high."
"But I am afraid of it, sister,
For over the sea and the land
It gazes, so black and so silent!"
"Little brother, hold fast to my hand."
"Oh, what was that, sister? The thunder?
Did the shag bring the storm and the cloud,
The wind and the rain and the lightning?"
"Little brother, the thunder roars loud.
"Run fast, for the rain sweeps the ocean;
Look! over the light-house it streams;
And the lightning leaps red, and above us
The gulls fill the air with their screams."
O'er the beach, o'er the rocks, running swiftly,
The little white cottage they gain;
And safely they watch from the window
The dance and the rush of the rain.
But the shag kept his place on the headland,
And when the brief storm had gone by,
He shook his loose plumes, and they saw him
Rise splendid and strong in the sky.
Clinging fast to the gown of his sister,
The little boy laughed as he flew;
"He is gone with the wind and the lightning!
And -- I am not frightened, -- are you?"
poem by Celia Thaxter
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black RESPECT
Black shoes,
black suits,
black sandals
black you,
black specs,
black life,
black faces,
black casket dropped deep the dark grave,
Red ribbons,
red lights,
red flowers,
red wine.
Hearse sirens
wailing women,
Black speeches,
Blackened praises, all in all they call it the last respect
poem by Joub kahuria
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The Black Tracker (Or: Why He Lost The Track)
There was a tracker in the force
Of wondrous sight (the story ran):—
He never failed to track a horse,
He never failed to find his man.
They brought him from a distant town
Once more to gain reward and praise,
Nor dreamed the man he hunted down
Had saved his life in bygone days.
Away across the farthest run,
And far across the stony plain,
The outlaw’s horse’s tracks, each one,
Unto the black man’s eyes were plain.
Those tracks across the ranges wide
Right well he knew that he could trace,
And oft he turned aside to hide
The tears upon his dusky face.
Now was his time, for he could claim
Reward and praise if he prevailed!
Now was the time to win him fame,
When all the other blacks had failed.
He struggled well to play his part,
For in the art he took a pride.
But, ah! there beat a white man’s heart
Beneath his old, black wrinkled hide.
Against that heart he struggled well,
But gratitude was in the black—
He failed—and only he could tell
The reason why he lost the track.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Old Black Dawning
I hung around
On the planet mabel
She tried to stand
But she was not able
She tried to find the truth
She tried to colonize space
She only had a few
But it was a good race
Old black dawning is coming on
Old black dawning is coming on
Old black dawning
Old black dawning
Im always happy to
Go down to old tucson
After you had your fun
Its time to move on
Ive got a favorite story
About the tower of babel
Some say its true
And some say its a fable
Old black dawning is coming on
Old black dawning is coming on
Old black dawning
Old black dawning
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ramblings Of A Researcher
bury the head
deep into paper files
like one cormorant
looking for
deep sea fish
one finally longs for
air to breathe
a face to see
like the one you missed so much
yet you cannot even
touch
you rise with the fish
on your beak
swallow everything
but nothing satisfies
not the books
not the fish
not even that face that you long to see
this time
it is the memory of the deep sea
that entangles you
like a flower
vine creeping
holding on to the trellis
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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