Cold Lore
Blackness shrouds the empty floor,
While shadows dance upon the door,
A memoriam of forgotten flaw,
Heart beating fast with eternal plight.
The cold wind blows, a doghouse sigh,
Flying in the medley of nigh,
I listen to the raven cry,
Deadly victim, quite contrite.
I hear a knock upon the roof,
A possum lay under furry hoof,
Memory lingers, yet to sooth,
The Cold Lore whispers in the inky night.
The moon endures a pallour glow,
The rocking chair moves to and fro,
I think of the one that I love so,
I wait for dawn's first light.
Glitter stars and circumstance,
Law and right, in every dance,
The infected wound, yet to be lanced,
The apathy of the raven's flight.
Coldspire lingers a devil's scream,
The sunrise glows, the night's a dream,
I will never know what the twilight means,
Blood red Shepard's delight.
I sit upon a rocking chair,
As death, it takes me with gentle care,
I see my corpse, just sitting there,
6 hours since midnight.
At the end of every life,
Calls the raven, a herald of strife,
We step the edge of our own knife,
I see the demon firelight.
When the hour strike 13th chime,
And a child can drink the juice of lime,
When within a star exists a dime,
There shall be no night.
poem by Stuart Logan
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Nightmare Raven
A Raven perches on the branch
and stares into my window
watches me sleep
watches me dream
Mr.Raven why do you watch me?
when you're around
my skin goes cold
and my dreams morph into nightmares
I dream of one's I've lost
and that I'm losing them again
stabbed in the heart
running up an endless street
I try to scream
but I am mute
I'm alone
Mr.Raven why do you effect me so?
do you wish to frighten me?
I will sleep during the day
and wander at night as you do
If that is your wish
Mr.Raven leave me be
go back to the shoulder of Death
disappear from my sight
poem by Dakota Ellerton
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Empty Night
I feel so empty inside
An emptiness I do not understand
Like a raven in the night
A dark dismal plight
Filled without moonlight
My emptiness stays in sight
Now that the raven takes flight
I am in non-delight
poem by Brenos Spider
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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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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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Moon Glow
The darkest night, flows with a
wind hush through open blackness.
Ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Rivulets spill with water
across the mountain plains;
as liquid rolls down along the steep slope-
ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Stars glitter through sparkles
of the darkest night.
Wind cold breeze swifts;
swiftly into space.
Laughter engulfs the moon light.
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Moon light angles corners,
as sweet melodies swell into air,
of silence.
You ever sight the bird dance,
as shadow flicker
upon the moon?
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
poem by Celine Berghmans
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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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The Raven
The raven
Lead vocal: alan parsons, leonard whiting
The clock struck midnight
And through my sleeping
I heard a tapping at my door
I looked but nothing lay in the darkness
And so I turned inside once more
To my amazement
There stood a raven
Whose shadow hung above my door
Then through the silence
It spoke that one word
That I shall hear forever more
Nevermore
Thus quoth the raven, nevermore
And still the raven remains in my room
No matter how much I implore
No words can soothe him
No prayer remove him
And I must hear for evermore
Quoth the raven, nevermore
Thus quoth the raven
Nevermore
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold winter night
It was a cold winter night.
All was deadly still.
My guts so tight
I must kill!
The cry of a wolf enters my head
Like a train whistle that echoes far away.
Can it be…something lives on this winter night?
Follow the sound and pray
It does not go away.
My hunger juices flowing; I go.
I and the wolf both now know
Neither is alone in the land of snow.
Oh, how I wish I had his sight
On this cold winter night
The north wind moved in the night before.
The ground all snow and bitter cold…so bitter cold.
The sky filled with stars.
The snow grows old.
My guts so tight
What a cold, cold winter night!
The wolf stays hidden from my sight
With it’s furry coat of gray and white.
He glides across the snow without sound
Like a ballerina tiptoeing over the ground.
My guts so tight
On this bitter cold winter night
I with my blood running slow
My hands burning cold; my face red glow
Driven by the pain in my gut
On this cold-cold bitter winter night
I must kill
To make the night still
So the hunger pains
Will be gone again
I hear nothing on this cold winter night
My hair stands up on the back of my neck
I fear the wolf knows
I turn
Crutch to spring
His fangs showing white; my knife in my hand
We circle like two roosters in a pen.
For one this will be the end.
The pain in my gut is still tight
I will kill but not for the trill
On such a killing bitter cold winter night
With the grace of a cat he springs to flight
My throat his aim on this cold winter night
My knife hits his heart…he hunches in pain;
His fangs rip my throat cutting the jugular vein.
The snows now stain on this cold winter night.
Blood and flesh flung upon the snow
Cries of pain, moans of death…soon will go
From this bitter cold ground
All is still on winter’s playground.
The wolf dances no more
My lips move but there is no sound.
My gut is still tight
I feel alright
No more time to fight
On this bitter cold winter night
Wind and snow now fill the air.
The wolf has an empty den.
The snow will be tracked no more.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Genocide complete
In a galaxy so far
poem by Ronald Brissette
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The Death of a Raven
As I was taking a tour today
I saw a raven lying dead by the side of a bank
He lay there lone, cold, dead
Nobody to bury, cremate, or carry him away
I felt sad
I felt life is so sudden, so short
A couple of ravens kept circling the dead
They tried to tell me something of the raven dead
But I couldn't understand them
Because I don't know as how to interpret the language of the raven
The raven lay dead by the pavement of the bank
He lay sideways
His feet up
His dead beak closed and dead
I felt a sudden rush of hopelessness, a sudden rush of undefined pain
I didn't stop there to mourn the raven's death
I ran away as fast my legs would pace
The raven is dead
Everything around him goes as usual
Life is a continuous process
Time, tide, space flows on their own pace
Nobody notices the death of the raven
Except me
My soul saddens by the death of the unknown raven
The sky is dark and cloudy
It threatens rain
A few drops dropp here and there to make the scorched ground a little
wet
I cry for the dead raven
Please spare a pray for the dead raven
poem by Ujjol Kamal
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Lingers
shotgun shells,
and kentucky bourbon;
long howling nights,
bound by the moon/
teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.
the fiddle weeps,
while the mandolin prays.
old hat pulled down,
feet dance to the sound/
teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood...
lingers...
broke down and busted,
carried by the darkness.
fists pound the walls,
but there's no one home/
teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.
woman, smell and touch,
sucks the light from empty.
she rolls me over,
cries out like a cat/
teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Raven sings
The Raven sings
Can you hear the Raven sing?
I hear it everyday.
What does this Raven bring?
Death in many ways.
Can you hear the Raven sing?
I hear it sing your name.
When you see the Ravens wings,
You will go insane.
Can you hear the Raven sing?
The Ravens here today.
Can you feel your heart sink,
As a loved one is taken away.
poem by Jamie Wright
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Raven Of One
Raven of one beckoning at the earliest of eve takes perch upon the black coal seam, disappearing into it's hollows, watching me as the days light falls to the shadows.
What significance brings you guardian of the dead? Does your piercing stares bring of bad news and despair, or is my soul lost and you're here to collect the fare?
Maybe it's me, nothing at all, just superstitious lore knocking upon my minds door.
Your laugh goes unheard as you began choking, sounding out, preaching the call for the arrival of deaths cold hand.
Raven of one of the earliest of eve take wing and vanish from my sight. Leave me neath a star filled sky to ponder your reason for flight and why you were watching me tonight.
The Raven And The Crow
what is the difference
between a raven and a crow?
for one has a more beautiful name
than the other one has to show
has jealousy seeped into the crow
to hate the raven so?
to think of such an evil plan
and sink so very low
To take away all of the things
so quick and so abrupt
and take away the raven's life
it's nothing but corrupt
the raven lies there bleeding
dying by each passing minute
the snow soaks up its dark red blood
before the cold then kills it
triumph reigns inside evil
elated as it might feel
a cold eminates from it
loneliness will be its chill
Raven
Met a woman
said her name was Raven
she reminded me
of a little piece of heaven
now i just can't seem
to get her off my mind
swear she must of been something
from a dream
that I dream every night
sunshine is all she can bring
When I close my eyes
it seems to be no surprise
just what she does to me again
every time I think her name
here I will wait patiently
thinking I could love her endlessly
I see her with such a gleam
that makes me want her even more
she's like a shining star
shining oh so bright
now she's all I'm cravin'
ooh my beautiful Raven
She's a love I wait to start
a poet to my heart
so many miles we must journey
too many miles apart
in life it just had to be
not just pictures of you
and you pictures of me
Such a radiant glow
colors like a rainbow
after a morning rain
that's what you are
like diamonds that shine
I need to make you mine
a jewel so fine
that melts to the core
I would like to the tell world you are mine
that I'm your only man
one I need forever more
and now I'll never feel the same
this love worth savin'
ooh, my beautiful Raven
spiritwind(2009)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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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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Depression, Kills.
a cold icy hole in the middle of a large bed of ice acrossed a lake, wide as the horizon.
in the middle, down this deep blackend hole, shown a girl frozen in a position of pain.
no blood runs through her veins where it once had roamed warm and healthy.
i was born prepared to be dissapointed.
living is just a waste of death; were the last lyrics through her now blue lips.
her exsistance- 'quote the raven 'never more''
her life- 'quote the raven 'never more''
her dreams- 'quote the raven 'never more''
her love- 'quote the raven 'never more''
her wisdom- 'quote the raven 'never more''
her inner being- 'quote the raven 'never more''
before you put yourself first, think of those around you; those who may hurt you, those who overcome you, those lesser then you, those who think you dont know they exsist; they're crying inside.
there is no one true happieness, but we all still stride to find it.
some will give up
some will give out
and some have that right taken from them
who did you hurt today?
poem by Alexandra Blisse
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Heaven's Rocking Chair
Are there rocking chairs in Heaven
where little babies go?
Do the angels hold you closely
and rock you to and fro?
Do they talk silly baby talk
to get a smile or two,
and sing the sleepy lullabies
I used to sing to you?
My heart is aching for you,
my angel child so dear.
You brought such joy into my life,
the short time you were here.
I know you're in a happy place,
and in God's loving care.
I dream each night I'm rocking you
in Heaven's rocking chair.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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My Rocking-Chair
When I am old and worse for wear
I want to buy a rocking-chair,
And set it on a porch where shine
The stars of morning-glory vine;
With just beyond, a gleam of grass,
A shady street where people pass;
And some who come with time to spare,
To yarn beside my rocking-chair.
Then I will light my corn-cob pipe
And dose and dream and rarely gripe.
My morning paper on my knee
I won't allow to worry me.
For if I know the latest news
Is bad,--to read it I'll refuse,
Since I have always tried to see
The side of life that clicks with glee.
And looking back with days nigh done,
I feel I've had a heap of fun.
Of course I guess that more or less
It's you yourself make happiness
And if your needs are small and few,
Like me you may be happy too:
And end up with a hope, a prayer,
A chuckle in a rocking-chair.
poem by Robert William Service
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