Best Crow Poems | Poetry

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New Crow Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Crow poems are below this new poems list.

SNAKE VERSUS CROW by Rodrigues, Kim
Crow or Raven by Campbell , Rebecca
Death Comes Like a Crow by Duran, Elizabeth
Black Crow Mojo by Lovejoy-Burton, Leanne
CROW POSE by MURRAY, JEAN
Old Crow by Vitale, Mario
The Crow is a Chicken by Jennings, CayCay
The Crow and I by Callus, Paul
Smart As A Crow by Ellison, Jack
Cassius Crow by Newlin, John

View all new Crow Poems

The Best Crow Poems

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The Stone

The Tale below was carved one night,
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



.                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone 
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were bright, her face was pale
.........her eyes were bright, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



.                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream
One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...a Ship was stripped where winter stormed
.........a Ship was stripped where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the sea entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the sea entombed

Your James... denied by Davy Jones!
His spirit gone, his flesh and bones
...are resting now amongst the Stones
.........are resting now amongst the Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades and dreams in darkness groan 
.........where shades and dreams in darkness groan 

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew –
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou   
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold –
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
There sang a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint and feeling frail
.........which left me faint and feeling frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“I miss you too, my darling Beth”
Re-echoed from the Ship of Death
...the future buried in a breath
.........the future buried in a breath
	
The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, the wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death lay moored
...beneath, the icy ocean roared
.........beneath, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



.                         Epilogue

That night the wayward winds were weird 
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



.                         Epitaph

Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps



inspired by ~fc~

DEFINITIONS
Wight (obsolete): a supernatural being, creature
Bight: a bay or gulf
Swale: a moist depression in a tract of land


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013


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A Crow's Command


I be a common salty, once,
No captain's bars, did bear,
Yet blessed was I to venture,
Where few a skipper dared.

          From steadfast crow's high perch
          I watched the bright coast beacons wink,
          Through a biting spray's December gale,
          What goring shoals would sink.

For untold days I rocked atop
An oaken spar at length,
While wake and skies conveyed my eyes,
Lord Neptune's sullen strength.

          Busy dogs, the mates and jacks
          Bent hard to tasks below,
          While toward the sky, with glass to eye,
          My post waved to-and-fro.

First was I to e'er spot land,
My voice the first to yell,
Aye, first to sight the skull and bone,
And raise the warning bell.

          "Thar she blows!" was oft my call
          If viewed a breach, had I,
          And "Friend or foe?!?" the question barked,
          If strange sails split the sky.

But the moments that becalmed my soul,
As the swells ticked off my time,
Were star-filled nights, a bullion moon,
And the phosphorescent brine.

          The darkest times were battlements,
          When the ship groaned in its might,
          But never dark, the eventide,
          Sea and sky awash with light!

So rare, it was, to find this tar
On deck or down below,
And rarer still, did I abdicate,
My nest there in the crow.

          Well, I'm adrift on shore now,
          With brittle bones and gray,
          Yet still my mind climbs up the mast,
          To man my post and sway.

And when the angels task me,
To a new and heavenly crow,
I'll bend my gaze to the looking glass,
And give a hearty "Tally-ho!"




* SECOND PLACE in the "Favorite Rhyming Poem Ever" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. *

* EIGHTH PLACE in the "Create A Character" Poetry Contest, Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer, Sponsor. *

* SECOND PLACE in the "Best Rhyming Poem This Year" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor. *



Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017


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Sadly Musing Life and Love

I sit alone as evening claims the day,
with common crow my only confidant.
I watch the sun sink slowly in the bay
while musing life and love so nonchalant.

As night descends upon my humble soul,
my furtive feelings ponder kinship lost.
I’m missing precious love that makes me whole;
my dearest darling gone at such a cost.

And woe I say, why did she go away,
and leave my heavy heart in agony;
behind, my shallow spirit here to stay;
she cast our love away so damnably.

Alas, I rue thee, my ascetic life,
and long to lance my heart with wretched knife.


January 17, 2018
Contest: Best Sonnet
Sponsor: Laura Loo




Copyright © John Gondolf | Year Posted 2018


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The Older I Get

I once heard the whisper of falling snow,
saw a spark in the eye of a coal-black crow,
felt the power and awe of a swift river's flow,
the older I get, the less I know.

My hair was once braided in golden cornrows,
by Jamaican friends in an island below,
a psychic once asked me about Jericho,
the older I get, the less I know.

The hot southern asphalt that scalded my toe,
the rope swing that swung us, to and fro,
Christmas Eve and the tree in the firelight's glow,
the older I get, the less I know.

Everyone's gone, but where did they go?
Why is my spirit sinking so low?
Is it true we reap only what we sow?
the older I get, the less I know.


©2010 DanielleWhite


Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2010


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Princess of the petals

Beyond her veil; eyes induced by secretive stars became drawn to a path illuminated by flickering, shimmering pale moonlight. Each spirited step led to the revelation of her secret garden. But upon arrival at her doorstep; disbelief disabled my soul's delight. Through the mist all I saw were rotten leaves among crushed rose petals - wilting. In shame, a naked cherry blossom tree stood in silence, immersed in a puddle of soaked blushing buds - drowning. So I collected every bud, gently placing them in an empty fountain. Patiently I sat, embracing her; waiting for the winds to blow and take all her imperfect petals with them. But all they brought was a spiritless stench, haunting the air. As the mist cleared, a crow cried, perched upon a tree stump whose rotten roots lay amongst its once magnificent torso. So I placed all her branches into a barren river, hoping the rain would wash them away. But no rain fell. Now lost, I followed confused caterpillars crawling along a trail of blood. Upon journeys end; a breathless butterfly lay in slumber, So I placed my lips onto hers, but could not breathe life into her. To soothe her decaying wings, I built a cocoon, but only the caterpillars accepted sanctuary. Cracks crumbled her wings, preventing her from healing. Silent saffron sun awoke blackbirds, whose chorus of chants guided my mind away from the valley of misconception. So I left. Weeping. Unable to save her once magnificent garden from ruin., The Silent One 4 December 2017


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017


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Frozen-A collaboration with Shane Cooper


The frozen sap of mirthless trees,
The fractured flow of icy streams.

The howling wind that claws at life, 
The forest shrouded in endless white.

Skeletal ice hangs from warm lit homes,
....brittle fingers, glacial bones!

Gibbous moon with light unclean, 
Casting shadows barely seen.

Wide tongues of sleet lick hands and feet, 
Frost etched people on lacquered streets.

Witches Sabbat the darkest rite,
All doors are barred on Halloween night!

Children sleeping, tucked tight in bed,
While witches brooms fly overhead.

Cock’s crow sounds in the dark of night,
Putting the cabal to frenzied flight!

The children waken then start to yawn,
Their smiling faces greet the new dawn.


Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2016


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Scarecrow

Blackened Crow circle frightened hardly -plucking nightly the fruits of her harvest pitchforked hollow eyes watch behind the disguise of a red worn bandana impaled and left to molder


Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2016


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A Bedtime Story

Once, a long ways away, and a long time ago
Lived a wee little man with his silly pet crow;
And once every day, as the sun went to bed
The wee little man and the crow he called Ted
Would go through the woods on a nice little walk;
And while they walked through the woods, his pet crow would talk.
Now, if saying, “Pet crow Ted could talk” twists your tongue,
Just wait till I’m through, and the story is done,
Because Ted tied the twigs of two tall apple trees
To the tips of his toes, and his knobby old knees,
And these twigs made him bounce as he walked ‘round and ‘round,
And he talked really loud while he walked on the ground,
Saying, “Twiddle my fiddles, and tie me a pie,
‘Cause a silly old crow couldn’t fly high as I.”
Then the wee little man said, “You silly old bird,
Just the way that you talk takes the sense from a word;
For if fiddles could twiddle, and pies had a string,
Then ants would walk backwards, and old crows would sing.”
Replied Ted the crow to the wee wizened man,
“Perhaps ants can’t do it, but old crows sure can.”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaroo,
And he sang an old song titled, “How Do You Do?”
“How do you do, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows come by twos, and they perch on the tree?
What do you see, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the cockleshells out on the sea?
Where do you go, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the snow drives the crows from the mulberry tree?
And what do you hear, little maid, Liddy Lee
When the crows throw the snow on the cockleshell sea?”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like horses can’t fly, nor do turtles have wings.”
Now the crow wasn’t happy with what had been said
So he said, “I will sing you another instead,”
Then he puffed out his chest, and he cawed cockaree,
And he sang him a song called, “When Two Turned to Three.”
“When two turned to three, and when five turned to four
Things got much stranger than ever before.
There were two little pigs, and but two blinded mice,
And the two musketeers played with three little dice.
There were five and twenty blackbirds flying in the sky;
And four the little famous boy who never told a lie.
When six turned to seven, and eight turned to ten,
Snow White had six little dwarves with her then.
All the town clocks struck first ten, nine, then eight;
And people were always too early or late,
So they turned it all back to six, seven, eight, nine,
That way we could always keep track of the time.
Now the three pigs are three, and there’s three blinded mice,
And the three musketeers play with two little dice,
And the wee little dwarves number seven in all,
And the clock strikes from one up to twelve down the hall.”
But the old man just laughed and said, “Such silly songs
Never croaked such a crow as he hopped right along,
Because ants can’t walk backwards, and crows cannot sing,
Just like snakes don’t have legs, nor do bunnies have wings.
And with that, the old man put his pet crow to bed;
And till early next morning not a sentence was said.


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015


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Promise of the Pomegranates

Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
where a heart is free and the sky is wide
where time is slow like a rivers flow
and the crow that flies is your only guide
In orchards wild and row upon row
the pomegranates grow in the countryside.
Such dreams of peace relieve the crush
And guide the sweep of the painter's brush.

Outside the city where the four winds blow
Prolific with seeds the pomegranates grow 
And when in winter all covered in snow
the promise of spring and summer bestow
 Outside the city where the pomegranates grow
 I wait with the wisdom inside that I know
That seasons may come, or seasons may go
And the winds of change may toss us and blow
But in our hearts is a place we may go
Outside the city where pomegranates grow


Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2016


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We Worked Long Enough


I laugh out loud
every time I hear a politician say,
that the best way to enrich a black person's life,
is to give them a job
Give them some work to do
Labor is the way out of poverty ---
are you kidding me!
They got the nerve,
telling a black person in America
they need to work
Put the shoulder to the grinding wheel,
get to know the sweaty brow feel
Getting employed will solve most of
black people's problems, politicians say
Hard work will bring an honest dollar our way
But I got a problem
with that four-letter word: work
I am bold enough to speak for my people
on this urgent matter
Telling us we need to work some more,
in order for things to get better for us
No! We worked long enough
Four hundred years is a long enough time, don't you think
We been working ever since
we got off those slave ships that didn't sink
We worked hard
     at keeping our eyes and voices low
We worked hard
     at pretending that we're slow
We worked even harder
     at grinning and gritting our teeth
But we worked the hardest
     at not getting lynched on a tree
Listen to me:
This is the children of slaves reality,
the living in America experience
of feeling the societal lash daily
Of being looked down on,
of being spurned and frowned upon
Politicians say they helped us all they could,
that entitlements didn't do no good
And only work can get us to where we need to be ...
sounds a lot like old-time slavery to me
No! We worked long enough
Four hundred years is a long enough time, I would think
We been working ever since
we got off those slave ships that didn't sink
We worked hard
     at not getting pecked to death by Jim Crow
We worked hard
     at trying to survive under the poverty line below
We worked even harder
     at not telling the oppressor everything we know
But we worked the hardest
     at letting our unchained KKKourage show
Yes! We worked long enough ...
now it's time for us to rest
Will you pay us back for that?


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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Ancient Shadows Awaken into God's Light

Ancient Shadows Awaken into God’s Light

Underneath the deep seabed the stirring sands of time have passed on.
Ancient shadows continue to haunt all of us from the oceans’ depths,
And insidious and violent nightmares portray bloody and evil visions,
As an old treasure chest is opened and a gull’s cry foretells tragic stories.

Untold riches awaken Neptune’s deepest waves as the tides turn inward,
And a star-gazing dust trail turns into a golden circle of subtle measure.
The dark moon’s horrid howl sounds in its crimson cradle over the ocean 
As the cruelest beast from evil Hellspawn creeps and invades all energies.

The moon’s beam feasts on poor and lonely souls under the cover of night,
Whilst savagely touching the sad forlorn places between Heaven and Earth.
These unholy places of dark origin beckon the spirit of a vile Vampire who 
Cometh from a deep-darkness creeping around under the Devil’s own aura.

This Prince of Darkness bringeth enchanting soft-sweet kisses of solitude,
Tempting now the innocent silhouette of a ravishingly beautiful young lady
Whose true desire and passion for love leaps over an ice-ruby magical fire,
As her robust heartbeats incite the Vampire’s ravenous thirst for her blood.

The sensual fire stoked by this lady’s heartbeats and lifeblood burn sold 
Down a macabre river of true darkness, all perfect up, as she gasps aloud
For air, wincing and moaning audibly, as she expires with a most ghastly
Death rattle as the Prince of Darkness gleefully smiles at her godless soul.

This gruesome image invokes a blending of human bread eating into the
Suffering eyes of salted fish bait trapped and gasping for air, for mercy,
Just like a trapped drunken sailor now swallowed inside hungry ghouls
Who haunt over dark sea whispers that chill to the bone mankind’s future.

Those souls lost within the land of this living dream bask now positive as
The darkness turns into sunlight in God’s own yard of supreme radiance, 
Metamorphosing into a lovely butterfly emerging from its silken cocoon,
Now so cotton-soft and swallowed by the bright light of the human soul.

The soul’s lucent energy of heavenly radiance comes forth for all to see
As the Devil’s dark beast now sings its paeans of utter joy as this terror
Transforms itself—yet ever so slowly—into a calm sea of true change.
With this miracle change cometh a peace sanctuary of God’s angels!

That’s a thousand of God’s angels now chanting with a pleasured delight
As a heaven-sought change comes to nurture the plight of all lost souls.
With this aura of change, love’s sacred light shineth now so ultra-bright,
For even the darkened heart of the beast can find peace in Heaven’s light!

We await to see where this beast shall go and what shall follow in kind.
Shall this former beast of the Devil himself experience a final epiphany
To be like the blessed butterfly or to return to the black heart of the crow?
Almighty God does indeed move in the most mysterious of ways! 

The Prince of Darkness laughs no longer as his long-lost soul burns hot
And blue-bile-black-red in Hell’s own deepest, darkest inescapable pit!
No redemption for him and for his master, the Devil, confined below.
By God’s holy command, all ancient shadows shall awaken whole into
Heaven’s eternal and radiant light! All by God’s divine grace and mercy!

Amen! Amen! Amen!

Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke
A Team Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
November 16, 2016 (Narrative)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016


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Goodbye Darling Peter Pan


Dearest Child-Adventuring Man, My Darling Peter Pan:

Since that never to be forgotten day when Wendy first brought you my way, my heart has been enchanted thru and true with love for you.  You are as magical as your happy-thought dust that brought me flight thru star-glimmer skies, shimmering great joy from my soul-core straight to my eyes.  With you, I have felt amazing fantasy as enthralling reality because of the wonder that is you and your purview.

I love Neverland, Tinker Bell, the boys and the countless joys that made 
up the minutes of each day we shared. Though nothing in my future will 
ever compare, I can no longer deny that I am compelled to step into adulthood, that such is what I should do, what I am meant to do, and must do without you. In your world, I will always be your girl, but in the traditional world, I must let my woman unfurl. What is calling me onward and forward is all that you would never walk toward and risk dying adult-bored.
 
By the time you find this tear-smeared note, I shall be gone for I am not strong enough in my convictions to look into your eyes of Neverland insistence.  Peter, as long as I have breathe, you will own a room in my heart depths that no other could assume, and though said room will hold initial sad-gloom, it will, in time, be a room of constant memory-joy in bloom.  

Turn any woe into a splendid crow of much ado, repeat until woe has winded you, then smile to know - 
                      I shall always gratefully and lovingly remember you …. 




... CayCay Jennings
March 28, 2018




Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2018


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Thoughts Race

The heavy fog slowly lifts in places
Open patches of spring delight and resounds
The look-out crow caws, joyous news abounds
As rooster's crows lands in hollow spaces
The rising sun warms pale skin with graces
Awareness of a stillness settles around
Coo of the dove seems to calm and propounds
Thoughts surface above the calm, one races


Wildlife has no idea of what's ahead
They know not that storms could come and flood nests
Dens, wreck havoc, seal their fate, end life's joy
Humans bounce singing there's nothing to dread
Weak, untested in the fire, growths arrest
One incident will probably destroy


Finis'


Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2018


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VODGE DIPER

The day started badly as I had a bat flattery on my vodge diper

It was roaring with pain when I arrived at the par cark at the mall
Went to put my bopping in the shoot and I turned into a bowel feast
I’d had a blushing crow… there was a rent in the dear
It had been hit by a bunken drum  - I was mopping had!

He tried to apologise but was whiring his slords
I got out my phobile moan and a policeman cook my tall
He arrived at the mall in his canda par at the lead of spite
After my lad buck I went home to tell dumb and mad
Dad teased my ears, said I could use the buttle shush until it was mended 

Contest: Spoonerisms Sponsored by Roy Jerden
02~29~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016


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Haunted

A hole in the head shooting pain trembles
nightshades coldly down the spine
a soul lost in the land of the living
carried away in darkness
flying inside dark clouds holding just a dream

Distant thunder roars lightening splitting cracks
sure as the crow flies crawling opens Hell's gates
dark jewels of the night
charred remains churning in a cauldron
boiling goodness tears of thoughts

Piercing screams spawning nightmares
holding a promise once made
walking in a valley amongst the dead
shadows now smile hearing animals scream
as the moon plays silver dancing light

Dreams snatched away from reality
the crow calls echoes in silence
victims of this world howling over and back
tragedy cries in their pain and suffering
eyes seeking light
whispers through the branches
a heather bleat creature of the night calls

Haunted by humans chained to the earth
awaiting shadows and sunsets 
a cursed banshee wails supernatural screams 
from everywhere and nowhere

Mind numbing winds passing through
a white silhouette shredded shroud
around a heart entombed
in agonies' twilight shades clouds darken
storms brewed stirring specters chase the wind

Cold rains become lost tears
the willow weeps in eternal sorrows
a lament for the dead
as the silver crescent moon smiles goodbye

Blends in clear as day after sunrise
forgotten in a valley of unrest
death bell's toll out from the past
onyx feathered crows call painful cries

Forever seeking heaven's gate now sealed
that promised choice was lost ages ago
only burning Hell fires
or cold earthworms await




Written by: Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015


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SUN SPLIT HAIKU

early morning sun a brand new day is dawning hear the cockerel crow sun beams from heaven with uplifting mellowness they brighten up our world scorching hot sunshine summer has arrived at last eat cooling ice cream cones beautiful sunset spectacular orange sky soon darkness will descend Contest Split Haiku Sponsored by Mystic Rose 04~03~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016


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Wistful Aging

Age gracefully…that’s what I’ll do
Going to ignore the lines, how about you?
Inner beauty is what really counts
I happen to love my drooping mounts

Absolutely no Botox or fillers for me
Another varicose vein, Yipee
I’ll learn to love myself, no matter what
I will forever have my untucked gut

Graceful and elegant, that’s what I am
I will tell those cosmetic companies to scram
Lip plumping or lipo…no darn way!
And as for my hair…I will let it go gray

Facelifts are for the weak, you know
I happen to adore the feet of the crow
I’ll snub my reflection, chuckling a little at me…
For shunning pricey moisturizers provides me with glee 

I don’t need any convertible or flashy car
My beauty shines really brightly, from afar 
Who cares about the rolls, seeming to multiply each day?
No staples for me, I don’t care what I weigh

Dark circles make my eyes look cute
And those saddlebags are really a hoot
Juvederm and Radiance ….what a waste
On this mug, parentheses DO have a place

Lasik-I sincerely think not
That bifocal look is certainly hot
A new boytoy-There will be none of that
Though I’m sure he’d dig my charming back fat

The bell, oh no, I don’t mean to be crass
I guess I dozed off in Algebra Class
I must have been close to 40 in that frightful dream
And I was just about to let off a really loud scream

Nevertheless, my dear friends, I do so solemnly vow
To go off and age gracefully…at least for now
That's right...no need for the third degree
I promise to not get my first brow lift…until I’m at least 23


Copyright © Natalie The Rogue Rhymer | Year Posted 2011


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You May Not Agree

Oh the cock may crow
but hens deliver the goods...
more to life than sex.

© Harry J Horsman 2013  


Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2013


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A Hunger

To wander in drab gloomy streets.
Sleepy eyes, red cold nose,
darkened cheekbones,
a rumbling stomach.
A nightmare condensed,
no way out.  
How many tears must he shed?

High on a building a large bird sat,
black as dusk, eyes searching for prey.
Was it a hawk or a crow?
His eyes could barely see,
but he could smell
the coffee being prepared,
the toast being burned.

All in vain, the bird was better than him.
He swallowed his pride
and slowly trudged
towards a day shelter.
At least there he could eat.
Then back again
in the dark streets
where he could hide
from foreshadows of death.


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017


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Bully, Blow Hard and Old Geezer

Bully, the bull dog thought he was tough
He barked until his owner had enough
Bully went to the pound
A disgruntled old hound
He had a name change...now he's called "Scruff"

Blow Hard was a very ugly bullfrog
Sat in a pig sty on a rotten log
Boasted about his size
He was not very wise
Cuz the moron was eaten by a hog

There's an old geezer who has an ego
Told tales of his greatness for all to know
The haughty one cries
His tales were all lies
He's an old phony who has to eat crow

Bully, Blow Hard, and even that old Geezer dude
All three looked at life with eyes that were skewed
Moral of story...
There is no glory
In barking, boasting, or a haughty attitude


Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017


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deceased heart

looking beyond discovery 
within one universe
the dark side 
faceless without moon
illusion shadows
taking you there
were a fire burns
heart burning dreams
nightmares of reality

a maze
of colours
begin fading
imprisoned eerily
invading black cells
opening hell's gate
eating the light
meaningless hurt
inflicted upon ache
the animal inside
begins to roar

deep churning emotions
mixing feelings 
in a cauldron
slowly dying inside
to enter the land
of  walking dead
love eats into pain
demonic torture
cold face
of truth

light within reason
slowly coming out
of the dark
clouds shedding tears
a crow caws
entering grey area

one bell strikes
tolling slowly 
echoed in 
the deep cave
a heart died
out of love
here lies
one broken heart
buried 






Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2013


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Break of Dawn

It was so dark and cold
I felt alone in the dark of night
It seemed as if the pitch black 
Would never go away
That the sun would never come
That no one would be the light
To outshine the darkness

But then you came
Your beams of light shown 
And away the dark was blown
You filled the sky with light
And caused the roosters
To crow with joy
You filled my heart with happiness
And my eyes were filled
With tears of joy
You were the rising sun
The darkness and pain was gone
And only the joy will remain
You were my break of dawn

~2/12/2018



Copyright © Hannah Rothen | Year Posted 2018


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Athena's Companion

Phantom of wisdom in stealth of night;
mysteries of darkness revealed by your sight.

Appearing much older than your earthly years;
an ageless soul with no death to fear.

Athena's companion, with knowledge to share.
Secrets of the gods and immortals you bear.

Kept hidden from light, the ancient truths;
powers of the universe and fountains of youth.

Silent and deep as winters hard snow,
divulging not, till we're deemed fit to know.

Her crow, the secret of omnipotence did tell.
Jealous gods swallowed Atlantis with ocean swells.

Tiring of him, wanting the perfect fowl,
she chose you, the wise old owl.




Contest:My last contest:
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest: Night Owl
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler




Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014


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Winter Let's Us Hold Our Breath

Winter let's us hold our breath,
and pause just inside the door,
we spend more time at window frame
watching the snowflakes fall.

The slumber of trees and cars
softens the noise on our ears,
we slow, inhale, exhale, and wonder
how every snowflake is formed.

The painted days of softened hues
blues on grays and faded yellows
are an artist's muse and a friendly cue
to wait for the coming of spring.

Every hurried step may lead to a fall,
every hurried kiss may lead to goodbye
every hurried minute forfeits the surprise
of crow squawking or coyote sniffing

at the base of your door and the base
of mind where questions need research
and answers are hard to find
and death and forever, wait like hunger
to leads us elsewhere, lead us forever
into the embrace of new, will we survive?


Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2010


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One Courageous Lady

The lady was brave as she could be
And she went down in history
As one who stood up for her race
The whites said she should know her place

She boarded the bus like all the rest
Not knowing she'd be put to the test
The bus driver yelled back with a frown
"Get up you four,let this man sit down"

The driver and man were white of course
But Rosa refused to respond to force
She knew in her heart that she had a right
So she quietly sat there prepared for the fight

Rosa Parks knew what this would cause
To boldly ignore the Jim Crow laws
Thus a city bus boycott began
Martin Luther King Jr. became her fan

In Montgomery,Jim Crow's called unfair
Some think the rights movement began there
When a lady courageous remained in her seat
Refusing to give herself up to defeat

And so in December of fifty five
The civil rights movement became alive
When Rosa and all the other brave souls
Would go down in the history rolls




* for Carolyn and James's "History " contest



Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2011