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Poet:  Ken Jordan
Poem: A Raven's Curse 
Edited by:  Sparkle Jordan
written:  February/2015


        On a late January, (winters night),  when once wake eyes now sleeping,  dogs now howling, and cats now screaming -

         And the  lull of a torrentially rainy season -   has sink to a 
drought -
         
         Now to realize that the harsh
wet winter, so glum and bitter,
 has vaporized to  mere droplets, 
is dreadful -

          A obnubilate fog, thick and eery, persist to float quietly, 
gloomy and dreary -

           While seven giants, stand 
rising with arms to the sky - statuesque,  beneath ominous 
clouds.

          The creepy, crackling noise from (tree giants),  statue still,  
came forth, a pendulum sway -
 
rocking back and forth, so dark, 
so grim - shaking through gale 
force winds, to activate 
hidden fears-

        Through the darkness, and
cold black starless night, waylay 
a fowl,  in the shadowed - black  in the blue moon light -

        dark shadows crawl through 
giants maze - something restless 
in a  particle haze - 
    
         Yet, nervously thy stand,
to a solitary voice/ gurgling 
from the arms of giant trees?

      "What is this?"  that  speaks no voice? 
    " What gurgle's and lurks, in 
giant redwood trees -
       Who are you? A dream, a nightmare, to wake from sleep -

        Time slips fast, as seconds go past, and the gurgle voice, fades 
to a soft audible, a  hear-less 
hush -

         Thy  dour howling winds, 
witness a baneful gurgling 
of such, in giant trees -

        Suddenly, the  mysterious 
noise fades in the melancholy, 
and despondent night -

      Sleep calling, thy walk away, 
in the dense dawning light -

         So I go to thy dwelling door,
 and hear a baleful croaking - 
which - awakened fears 
once-more. 

        And the  voice resonated 
loudly, through the arms of giants -
  thy feet still - stuck!
like quicksand -

         caught in the shadows 
of a ghost, black as night, 
         croaking, in giant trees....
giant redwood trees.

        And the minacious,  wicked sounding "call," cloaked  a steady sense of foreboding. 

       Screams ring out,  in the
melancholy, and despondent 
night -
       What do you want? You are 
not real!" I lament -silently, amid haunting whispers, sorrow 
and grief -

       The saturnine voice echoed clearly,  through the thick fog so dreary.  Whispering -

       "A solitary Raven, perched  in giant trees, giant redwood trees, 
is a fowl of mystery; a premonition 
bird of black,  dark as shadows." 

        "Wait!" Art thou the omen,
to bring forth glowering presentiment? 
         No acceptance shall thy render to this invisible imagination.

        Thy dream no more, thus,
 shall not be contested -
         Be there no raven!...no raven, 
in giant redwood trees - be gone
no omen, decease! 

         So go now, in faith, thou walk
with no evil -  no raven! be gone,
no omen.. decease!

         Darkness, and shadows fade invisible - morrow joyful, no
shadow silhouette -  
         Quietly, and calm, no wind, 
no storm - a lone dove fly's -


(c). copyright 2015
all rights reserved -
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