Best Crow Poems
No matter how some complain and bellow
they are exposed, each a trolling fellow
I'd look them in the eye
for telling one more lie
but I heard they're too busy eating crow
by Jenna Logan
Their "platforms" anchored, tightly tethered
Their statements all "if, ands, and whethers"
While blowing their horns
And spitting out thorns
From mouths full of fluffy crow feathers
by John Lawless
Cruel comments, sure catch one's eye
Demeaning, vindictive, but sly
Trolls aim to debase
And leave a bad taste
Perhaps they should eat humble pie
by Jan Allison
Some people just won't admit when they're wrong
Like to spin yarns and then string you along
But without any doubt
They are always caught out
Then feast on the first crow that comes along
by Tom Cunningham
Will he choke while eating crow
A feeble mind he does show
He messed in the blog
When he slopped his hog
His words are wind and they blow
by Mark Koplin
Your posts pretend to blow off steam
but your words are so very mean
time to eat some crow
maybe time to go
Your vile blogs make me want to scream
by Tania Kitchin
So many people are really just a fake
It's just who they are, dear lord, for heaven's sake
I just want them all to know
I'd fill their mouths with crow
And feed them as much as their fat cheeks can take
by Charlie Messina
A taste of revenge for the blogger
Whose intention is to cause bother
It's made perfectly clear
Folly falls on deaf ears
So fool, go eat crow for some fodder
by Belle Bellevue
Yeah,
go ahead stare at my crows feet,
I don't mind
I'm proud of them
earned every one...
broken my back
broken this
broken that
ninety proof patch
thatched hut for a heart
and broken clock soul
Yeah, crows feet, look closely,
there etched in unforgiving-unforgivable
tin miscarriages
cornucopias spilling the seeds of lust
sticky-petty jealousies on a path of forever
the broken flesh of those never born
gouging at the skin around the soul.
You on the other hand
don't have any crows feet
your pallet and brushes are clean.
haven't earned any
haven't buried what you love...
enough
given (it )all to a heart
only to retrieve (it) from the earth
to be put out of it's misery.
you haven't gotten those pixie dusted eyes broken,
but you'll catch up... some day,
its coming
way-way down the tracks...at the empty station,
where nothing breathes but crow prints
in a fragile evening mud-
Black caw crow flies overhead
black caw crow cries sounds of dread
small birds shiver in covert trees
mice skitter, scatter and flee.
Watercolor skies abound
mournful clouds cling to the ground
critters hide ‘neath fans of leaves
silent refuge from the siege.
Lazy slugs and snails alight
peaking black crow’s appetite
swooping down without a sound
black crow strikes as raindrops pound.
Black caw crow flies overhead
black caw crow cries sounds of dread.
Written on 3/10/2020
In the night movement there’s a wary crow
Straight up into the blue moon it flies high
Cocking its flight to avoid its cold rays
Each night in the moon brings a large crow’s sigh
Elbows of their feet bend throughout the air
As the bird sings, a gorgeous sound to me
I can sense its flight near me, overhead
He’s flapping near to me, but I can’t see
Only if the moon is shining greatly
Can I see, tonight it comes in and out
But sure when it comes out of the darkness
The moon only brings shades that are about
Circling there above me cawing with joy
Listening do I hear his great power
Appearing now within the little light
Dips down on me as I stand and cower
Conquering my fear I reach for him near
I hope that he comes onto my dark arm
He does just that, I look deep in his eyes
He swallows my heartbeats without alarm
Now I move to the nearest tree and caw
Allowing him to fly to high branches
Power envelopes me, I seem to float
I must leave him to the highest reaches
Russell Sivey
In dress, mortician's finery
pure ebony entire,
eshewing tints of purity,
He dropped in by my fire.
It was His island after all;
his chapel ceiling, trees
I see what little I possess
and He
Possesses what He sees.
The trickster of the Inuit
this feathered deity,
I thought He wished to share the Pike
His lake gave up to me.
But thrifty with His speech He was,
As Gods are want to be,
He came around to share my meal
That's all
the time He had for me!
Objurgatory crow lookout
Cawing to obdurate friends
Telling them to flee fall garden
Opossum grins by Persimmon
Because berries gone as are figs
Every animal has eaten fill
Ready now for winter's rest
Excitedly written for:
"Fall Is Around The Corner"
Sponsored by: Carol Brown
*Note
Click on:"About This Poem"
As The Crow Flies
Staring past the curtain,
At the vigilant crow upon the mast,
The creature unaware of a presence,
In a moment forever lost.
Unflappable in its endeavour,
A breather from its hunt,
A distorted view of the world,
Its cackle alerting its murder..... of its next tenacious stunt!
Unperturbed by darkness,
Its itinerary meticulous, movement, stealth like,
As day gives way to darkness,
A sky drifting magenta decline
Copyright
S Rose
As I was walking in the snow
I was accosted by a crow
It did not like my face
I ran and it gave chase
Amused onlookers watched the show.
----------------------------------------
For a contest hosted by Kevin Shaw
21st February, 2018
Do not judge bird with black coloured wing,
“ugly looking thief that cannot sing!”
“snatches from others so it can feed!”
A bird linked to death, darkness and greed!
How prejudice clouds our timid mind?
Is it fear of darkness, makes us blind?
we fail to see the beauty inside,
dark the countenance,black the hide!
Many there in Corvid family,
Crow, Raven, Rook all look same to me,
But one I write about is our Crow,
we love him dearly, his heart we know!
Our deep bond is of unmeasured years,
For destiny links us through our tears,
Pain of loss brings the hearts together,
body with skin or one of feather!
As family grieved good old granny,
Of her love, humour, virtues many,
Amongst the sobs and tears in the group,
You heard a crow who let his voice droop!
Our memories linked us, as events do,
are no limits to love, if it be true,
as family, he shared our sorrow to cry,
A black feathered kin who could fly!
He was not caged in a love prison,
that deny freedom, rob life’s mission,
set his own limits of existence,
Sky and earth with God’s benevolence!
Homely crow was not given a name,
to tether label would be such shame,
In arrogance we do humanise,
Gauge others by what we think is nice!
Crow is amongst intelligent birds,
on a measuring scale, rest are nerds,
He knows best when new spring begins,
Against his caw no weatherman wins!
He is in garden whatever springs,
Hunting down the rodents on swift wings,
He waits some days by busy roadside,
Using cars to get to flesh inside!
Condemn him not for the way he kills,
Nature in wisdom gave him his skills,
To use modern tools, he is clever,
a measure of our crow’s brain power!
If you accept crow and black image,
In wisdom’s book you have turned a page,
Should you come to our house, see a crow,
don’t ring the bell, he will let us know!
Date written 11/07/2020
4th placement
Bird poetry contest
Sponsor Constance La France
reentered for Chantelle Anne Cooke’s
The Colour Black contest
(Elizabeth II 1926-2022)
Are we - crow, blackbird, sparrow -
aware of what's occurring?
We cannot tell, they assume,
but gape and gaze from up here.
This is a land with a departed monarch.
We - sparrow, blackbird, crow -
flit or sit above the richness
of that marching red regalia.
Thousands of arms stretch, sinews strain,
cameras are held aloft
to catch the start of this queen's obsequies,
such elegance, such grace.
We - blackbird, crow, sparrow -
observe orb and sceptre on the magnificent pall,
witness the splendour, the spectacle,
delight in the sound of vocal souls.
Millions have viewed that coffin.
We - crow, blackbird, sparrow - see them gaping, gazing,
with its eight pallbearers, in their blood-red flame,
as this Abbey welcomes what they carry.
(Sep 2022)
(You may wish to see also "Trooping the Colour" of June 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2023)
"The Moon and the Crow"
Legs of a journey open
along The Road
Black Crow
ruffles his feathers
Moon transforms
White Lily pearly luminescent
Unfurling milky legs and arms
Mata Hari dances naked
Cool emerald eyes
intent that beckons
piercing
heart that levitates
towards
the Other’s dimension
Witness
Lilith’s
Resurrection
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
CocoRosie - The Moon asked the Crow ( with Lyrics)
https://youtu.be/D5C88GrQrsg
Lyrics:
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/cocorosie/themoonaskedthecrow.html
K.I.S.S.
A bunch of dry lime leaves like schoolkids runs
across the street. Be careful, do not slip
on crispy morning frost. I see someone’s
bike on its side, its owner rubs his hip.
Are you okay? He is okay. A crow
pecks out a crumpled tinfoil. What's inside?
Alas, inedible. I’d like to know
what cars parked off the road dream of at night.
Oh, these wet dreams that make their windows sweat,
you’re definitely better, to misquote
Poe, than reality. A young brunette
next door walks her old dachshund in the coat.
That's how a pen of poet turns sometimes
a routine morning walk into the rhymes.
21.10.2019
Your Best Sonnet July-December 2019 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
https://www.howmanysyllables.com
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
No matter how some complain and bellow
they are exposed, each a trolling fellow
I'd look them in the eye
for telling one more lie
but I heard they're too busy eating crow
by Jenna Logan
Their "platforms" anchored, tightly tethered
Their statements all "if, ands, and whethers"
While blowing their horns
And spitting out thorns
From mouths full of fluffy crow feathers
by John Lawless
Cruel comments, sure catch one's eye
Demeaning, vindictive, but sly
Trolls aim to debase
And leave a bad taste
Perhaps they should eat humble pie
by Jan Allison
Some people just won't admit when they're wrong
Like to spin yarns and then string you along
But without any doubt
They are always caught out
Then feast on the first crow that comes along
by Tom Cunningham
Will he choke while eating crow
A feeble mind he does show
He messed in the blog
When he slopped his hog
His words are wind and they blow
by Mark Koplin
a crow caws warning
to the murder 'pon the ground....
through shrouded draped fog
Written: December 04, 2022
murder is a flock of crows
If we can't see atoms, are we sure they exist
All the experts say yes, in fact, they insist
These invisible devils
Confuse our brain pebbles
Will I kill a bunch if I smash down my fist?