A story true at times (in answer to Marge Piercy)
Remember the farmer
whose raven turned
into a lovely black haired woman?
Her hair shone with a metallic bluish sheen
and there was warmth in her lovely dark eyes
and her voice had a sweet melody
and she was very intelligent, sociable
and highly adaptable to farm life,
but just after their wedding,
she urged her husband for more and more jewels
loved precious stones, anything gleaming
and with time her manners became
increasingly material, wanting more, raving,
wanting a better house,
as if on the lookout
to be better than the neighbours
she started storing up seeds and nuts,
fruit, the meat of small animals and mammals
in the pantry
and went out to walk, to climb on the high cliffs
peering up at the highest trees
and her voice started to grow more hoarse
and when he got home one day
after labouring under the hot sun
the house was shattered
and everything pulled apart in shreds
and he saw a raven flying away
screeching before disappearing in the blue
and the truth remains
that although courtship turns birds into ladies
marriage, maturity
and age turn them back into old mad crows.
[Reference: A Story Wet as Tears by Marge Piercy.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
The Raven (In Answer To Edgar Allan Poe)
On a summer December I do remember
the sun like an ember, poetry on the floor
life in pieces, while my troubles increases
nothing eases the sorrow for the girl Lenore
while I read of a farmer who lived long before
while destiny had closed a door.
In that new tomorrow, the book I did borrow
and my own sorrow was replaced by the lore
with pain in my heart, life was falling apart,
my art was shattered as the tale I did explore
out of the blue I saw a raven black as ore
with its feet red with gore.
With a bolt of lightning that was frightening
happened something to the bird I did deplore,
with eyes green, her hair shone a bluish sheen
the loveliest girl I have seen then came to fore;
with her I would do almost anything just to score,
suddenly I did her adore.
Her voice had a melody, life was fair and free,
it just could not be, surf crashed on the shore,
I was not fit I did deem, or it was just a dream;
nothing was as it seem, it was a fable from yore,
I was thinking I am nuts, totally mad therefore,
but nothing I wanted more.
She was human alright, as we kissed in daylight,
loved during the night; to stay I did her implore,
I had just met her, suddenly we loved each other
without a bother, in my back her nails did bore
and what did my life without her have in store?
Our souls had bonded forevermore
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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A Gorgeous Phantom
I witnessed a woman lovely enough to make blind eyes see a raven haired beauty her hair hung long in curls in eyes of blue I saw the wonder of the world clarity of the big picture in the small package of a simple girl but sadly it seems she only exists in my dreams.
poem by Isiah On a Corner in the Thundering Darkness
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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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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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White Raven
White Raven's eyes erased,
This there life of meaning,
Flying through him was his name by nature
Where there might be a Raven be?
Flying through him where the Raven He...
Thought mind over matter, matter over time
He only knew there is no life of meaning.
Of meaning over life.
And he so wished that he were black.
In this that so place where there were feathers.
White feathers longing to turn black.
poem by Rebecca Stansfield
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The Old Man's Saddest Story
We sat about the fireplace listening to the old man's tales
Of the youthful years of life he spent in lovely Alder Vale
He told some happy stories but he told some sad one's too
And the saddest story that he told I will relate to you.
'Twas the story of young Joaney Ryan who died whilst in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time
She died at twenty three years old the valley beauty queen
And a fairer maid since her time the old man has not seen.
She was the most beautiful maid the old man ever knew
With sheeny hair of raven black and sparkling eyes of blue
Yet for all of her splendid beauty she did not show conceit
A better mannered girl than her no man could wish to meet.
Beauty it can take a woman quite a long, long way
But beauty quickly withers like the flowers that bloom in May,
You cannot judge a woman by her beauty or her dress
You can only judge a woman by the manner she possess.
He must have loved this lovely maid he must have loved her so
Who died in September forty six years ago
For as he told her story a tear showed in each eye
And it seemed quite clear to all of us that he was near to cry.
She died in a hospital this lady like woman
From Leuchaemia a disease that greatly curtail life's span
On the tenth day of September her remains were put to earth
Twenty three years and thirty six days from the day of her birth.
In each human's life story there is some share of woe
And the old man's saddest thoughts are of a maid he used to know
Who died of Leuchaemia whilst only in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Crows
THEN, suddenly, I was aware indeed
Of what he said, and was revolving it:
How, in the night, crows often take to wing,
Rising from off the tree-tops in Drumbarr,
And flying on: I pictured what he told.
The crows that shake the night-damp off their wings
Upon the stones out yonder in the fields,
The first live things that we see in the mornings;
The crows that march across the fields, that sit
Upon the ash-trees' branches, that fly home
And crowd the elm-tops over in Drumbarr;
The crows we look on at all hours of light,
Growing, and full, and going these black beings have
Another lifetime!
Crows flying in the dark
Blackness in darkness flying; beings unseen
Except by eyes that are like to their own
Trespassers' eyes!
And you, old man, with eyes so quick and sharp,
Who've told me of the crows, my fosterer;
And you, old woman, upon whose lap I've lain
When I was taken from my mother's lap;
And you, young girl, with looks that have come down
From forefathers, my kin ye have another life
I've glimpsed it, I becoming trespasser-
Blackness in darkness flying like the crows!
poem by Padraic Colum
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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.
Truly Great
My walls outside must have some flowers,
My walls within must have some books;
A house that's small; a garden large,
And in it leafy nooks.
A little gold that's sure each week;
That comes not from my living kind,
But from a dead man in his grave,
Who cannot change his mind.
A lovely wife, and gentle too;
Contented that no eyes but mine
Can see her many charms, nor voice
To call her beauty fine.
Where she would in that stone cage live,
A self-made prisoner, with me;
While many a wild bird sang around,
On gate, on bush, on tree.
And she sometimes to answer them,
In her far sweeter voice than all;
Till birds, that loved to look on leaves,
Will doat on a stone wall.
With this small house, this garden large,
This little gold, this lovely mate,
With health in body, peace in heart--
Show me a man more great.
poem by William Henry Davies
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The Creation of the Moon
The man cut his throat and left his head there.
The others went to get it.
When they got there they put the head in a sack.
Farther on the head fell out onto the ground.
They put the head back in the sack.
Farther on the head fell out again.
Around the first sack they put a second one that
was thicker.
But the head fell out just the same.
It should be explained that they were taking the head
to show to the others.
They did not put the head back in the sack.
They left it in the middle of the road.
They went away.
They crossed the river.
But the head followed them.
They climbed up a tree full of fruit
to see whether it would go past.
The head stopped at the foot of the tree
and asked them for some fruit.
So the men shook the tree.
The head went to get the fruit.
Then it asked for some more.
So the men shook the tree
so that the fruit fell into the water.
The head said it couldn't get the fruit from there.
So the men threw the fruit a long way
to make the head go a long way to get it so they could go.
While the head was getting the fruit
the men got down from the tree and went on.
The head came back and looked at the tree
and didn't see anybody
so went on rolling down the road.
The men had stopped to wait
to see whether the head would follow them.
They saw the head come rolling.
They ran.
They got to their hut they told the others that the head
was rolling after them and to shut the door.
All the huts were closed tight.
When it got there the head commanded them to open the doors.
The owners would not open them because they were afraid.
So the head started to think what it would turn into.
If it turned into water they would drink it.
If it turned into earth they would walk on it.
If it turned into a house they would live in it.
If it turned into a steer they would kill it and eat it.
If it turned into a cow they would milk it.
If it turned into a bean they would cook it.
If it turned into the sun
When men were cold it would heat them.
If it turned into rain the grass would grow and the
animals would crop it.
So it thought, and it said, "I will turn into the moon."
It called, "Open the doors, I want to get my things."
They would not open them.
The head cried. It called out, "At least give me
my two balls of twine."
They threw out the two balls of twine through a hole.
It took them and threw them into the sky.
It asked them to throw it a little stick too
to roll the thread around so it could climb up.
Then it said, "I can climb, I am going to the sky."
It started to climb.
The men opened the doors right away.
The head went on climbing.
The men shouted, "You going to the sky, head?"
It didn't answer.
As soon as it got to the Sun
it turned into the Moon.
Toward evening the Moon was white, it was beautiful.
And the men were surprised
to see that the head had turned into the Moon.
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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The Birth
he was born on a dark lonely night
and not a soul was in sight.
his mother was driving home
on that starry night, when she started
to feel the contractions.
she knew right then that she would
have to take action.
she pulled alongside that old country road
and her stomach she did hold
.
when she felt that waterbag bust
and in GOD she put her trust.
she asked the LORD what she should do
for she knew not what to do.
she heard a voice so soft and gentle
that told her to stay calm.
for this was a special child
that would be born this night
and that everything was going
to be allright.
she pushed the front seat back
as far as it would go
and took off her clothing so
that she could see.
the pains became so severe
and a head did appear.
she pushed with all her might
so that this child could be free.
for this was the way
it was meant to be.
as the child started to come out
from her lungs came a shout.
this child came out with such ease
and she felt a gentle breeze
as if it was a whisper upon her face
and she knew it was through GODS grace.
with a penknife she cut the cord.
and cleaned him up the best she could.
she wrapped him within her coat
and put the heater on
and drove back to a distant farm.
when she got to the farm
and banged upon the door.
when no one answered
she knealt down on the floor.
again she called upon the LORD
and asked what she should do.
he told her to look towads the barn
for there was a light as bright as day
and the farmer was baling hay.
as she got to the barn door
she collapsed in sheer exhaustion.
when she finally opened up her eyes
on the hay she did lay.
and beside her lay her child.
and the farmer told her she was
out for quite a while.
but the ambulance was on the way
and that he could not move her
in fear of jeopardizing her life
and that she was cleaned up
by his lovely wife.
now the farmers wife was
a religious woman
who believed that nothing
happens by chance.
and at this child she did glance.
she said that he had an aura
of light above his head
just like the bible which she had read.
she looked at this childs mother
and asked her this:
'is this coincidence or is this
a sign from above
that he would be in a barn
like christ was in the manger?
she recalled that gentle voice and
what it had said.
that a special child would be born on this night.
now you tell me.
was she wrong, or was she right?
poem by Louis Rams
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A new day
almost it ended, before it started, when all
what is given is losing its grip, the journey
becomes a hoax to survive
take all the chances to pursue what is
being started, for it is just a beginning of
what is a new day for all of us
it is always the inner voice, which is stronger
than what you see in your naked eyes, all
the way your passion carried out your
pleasure to remember that maturity is but
a wonderful experienced of what is life
this comfort zone, tells us the intriguing story
where and what life has reach to know more
of what is self redeeming, knowing that the
past reveals and controls everything life
exposes to the real you
a new day has elude my fears, a choice that
today anything that seen and what it comes
has consume my illusion, and now I am in
control of what I wanted in life, a new day has
come to witness the true in me to you
I am in you and you are in me, in this garden of
life, a reveling truth that a new day has started
to sprout in our lives
poem by Antonio Liao
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Fly Raven Fly
fly raven fly
and see the sparkle in my eyes
as I watch you
flying high.
fly raven fly
fly wherever you want
but just don't dropp anything
that could hurt my baby.
fly raven fly...
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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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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Big Balls
well i married a farmer nicknamed
"Big Balls"
nope it is not what you think at all
It started way back
when he was a city kid
who has never seen a cow
visiting his cousins on the farm
helping with chores
playing in the field
with wonder he stared
at this bull with its huge sack
hanging from its belly
too shy and not wanting to sound stupid
magnus as my husband was babtised
waited for the opportune moment
so with uncle and cousins
out in the camp
branding the animals
magnus could contain himself no more
"Wow! That bull's got "Big Balls"
roars of laughter as all eyes
looked to where he was pointing
their oldest and biggest cow.
ever since this day everybody
and now a farmer himself
he goes by the nickname "Big Balls"
poem by Persian Khushi
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Sad cuckoo
Have you ever seen sad cuckoo?
Yes I have seen and it is very much true
Hardly any one can notice it in early hours
As cuckoo has disappeared and seen no where
I sued to wake up with her call
When night was about to face its fall
So dreadful, frightening and calm
I heard her melodious voice with no harm
Some new habitats are coming up on hills
It is strong dissent by birds and animals
Wild animals attack the human beings
As they are capable and first kings
Some time in the morning I heard beautiful voice
As if calm with no more music to create with noise
As forbidden to use morning top places near by
Time has come for them to bid a good bye
I guessed it right
They had made no effort to fight
With no option in hand but to migrate
No more melody in morning to state
They are now no where
Vacated place and gone somewhere
Thick branches and trees have disappeared
Their existence is totally now feared
They might have gone too far
But that places are not too safer
It is unfortunate that we have turned cruel
Hand is laid everywhere to speak unwell
It can be considered unfortunate and not right
But think of peasants and small farmer's plight
They are influenced by high price rise
Brought round the corner to sell it to our surprise
Not only birds, animals but poor may be scarce
The talk of future development may turn farce
All over you may find high rise buildings
For small piece of land you may find high biddings
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Lovely One
Lovely one,
Just as on the cool stone
Of the spring, the water
Opens a wide flash of foam,
So is the smile of your face,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
With delicate hands and slender feet
Like a silver pony,
Walking, flower of the world,
Thus I see you,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
With a nest of copper entangled
On your head, a nest
The coloUr of dark honey
Where my heart burns and rests,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your eyes are too big for your face,
Your eyes are too big for the earth.
There are countries, there are rivers,
In your eyes,
My country is your eyes,
I walk through them,
They light the world
Through which I walk,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your breasts are like two loaves made
Of grainy earth and golden moon,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
Your waist,
My arm shaped it like a river when
It flowed a thousand years through your sweet body,
Lovely one.
Lovely one,
There is nothing like your hips,
Perhaps earth has
In some hidden place
The curve and the fragrance of your body,
Perhaps in some place,
Lovely one.
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your voice, your skin, your nails,
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your being, your light, your shadow,
Lovely one,
All that is mine, lovely one,
All that is mine, my dear,
When you walk or rest,
When you sing or sleep,
When you suffer or dream,
Always,
When you are near or far,
Always,
You are mine, my lovely one,
Always.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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So The Story Goes
I close my eyes
To the sound of the sky and I see
Birds in the trees in pastures green
Nothing to do
With the time or the place I perceive
The rush of the sea beneath my feet
Such a lovely world
Oh so magical
Precious like a pearl
Wrapped up in a shell
Build your house of stone
On a bed of sand
Time and tide will rise
Washing through your hands
Hear your heart
See the love
Feel the soul lift up
Hear your heart
See the love
Feel the soul lift up
I lift my eyes
To the sound in the sky and I hear it
A voice on the breeze is so serene
Nothing to do
With the time or the place but I feel it
Like dust on the moon beneath my feet
Such a lovely world
Oh so magical
So the story goes
Sing the madrigal
What a lovely world
Waxing lyrical
See the lies unfold
Hear the miracle
So the story goes...
The lies and the miracle unfold
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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