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Best Raven Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Raven poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of raven poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Raven Poems

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

The Raven Road by Olubodun, Babafemi Yinka
The Raven King by Lindley, Robert
Raven and the Wolf Always Together Eternally Apart by Roper, Eve
Raven haired goddess by Marlow, Robert
The Raven Guards by Loo, Lu
Raven Or Crow by Campbell , Rebecca
Raven by Roper, Eve
The Raven Has Fled- Part Two by Behm, Kurt Philip
The Raven Has Fled- Part One by Behm, Kurt Philip
Summer Memories Of Love Within The Seasons Of Our Lives, A Collaboration With Vladislav Raven by Lindley, Robert

View all new Raven Poems

The Best Raven Poems

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Raven Dreams

I flew alone in the white winter night
Cold winds and ice deep within my weary fright
In the night my mind in the darkest of dark
Death was close, close to my lonely heart
The tomb at the ready
Even falling apart
Some would say this is fine art
Or better yet Art at his finest…

Wrapped in winters black roped plaque
All I wanted was to lie down and rest
In peace and upon a widows breast
For then we could know each other
Pains shared, blood expressed
Oh Cassandra 
You are an angel divine
Winters mist and love sublime

Umbrellas to shield us from our earthly fears
Of natures whims and weather so ghastly grim
I turn my head, staring into the past
Your breasts of life make me gaze on back
When I was the raven
Flying noble and high

Now all I see are empty dark skies

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

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Forbidden Castle

Crows gather around the mysterious, abandoned castle, 
Its bastions and towers drowning within a mournful silence. 
Ghostly shadows loom within the dungeons and the murder holes, 
Screams of perished souls are locked within the castle walls. 

Long it has stood there upon a mountain of tempestuous winds, 
Withholding a secret from haunting years passed. 
Stones big, dark and looming, an ancient evil lurks inside, 
Creeping through each room, an eeriness unexplained.

Each corridor discloses a tale of bloodshed on that dreaded night, 
when the devil sent his descendants to run havoc amongst the mortals. 
The bitter queen who summoned them did not live to confess the tragedy, 
She took her life, witnessing all before her slaughtered including the adulterous king.

As a child, I had heard countless legends of the forbidden castle, 
Of the torture chambers and the merciless beheading of the accused innocent. 
Many have warned, “Beware…stay away…” and now I stand before the entrance,
The devilish crows watching knowingly, as if they foresee my fate.

“Beware the snares in the dark, for Death grins, awaiting your coming…”

A special collaberation with The Silent One
Thanks for the opportunity! :)

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015

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The Raving

From 2010. Narrator is Robert Gibbs, snooty White House Press Secretary.

Lay, O Lord, a curse on press men, rude and churlish, sad, obsessed men 
Who persist to query me on matters they know I must ignore. 
As I parry, neatly jinking, Tapper stares at me, unblinking; 
No doubt he is thinking, thinking Robert Gibbs is short one oar.  
Of them all, him I abhor.  

Yes, the fire is now an ember from a long-ago November  
When every media staff member bowed and scraped outside my door.  
Cocksure, I held my pressers (Helen! Old as earth, God bless her),   
Brushing off reporters—lessers, lessers who were such a bore,  
Including Jake the Tapper, whom the gods named my bête noire.
From the start, we’ve been at war.  

There! He rises, smarmy, sassy; I feel dizzy, bloated, gassy,  
Sickened, now stricken with the urge to swat this gadfly to the floor.  
As I tamp down nauseation, purge my thoughts of his castration, 
Jake the Tapper, this . . . crustacean floats a challenge like a spore, 
And it roots inside my core.  

Shaken now, I face him squarely, caustic tongue in check, just barely:  
“Scribe,” I bark, “or scrivener, hotly your aspersion I deplore.  
Blurted out while I was wrapping, in the middle of recapping,   
So to get your mates to clapping, clapping, because you're plainly sore.
Best be careful, sir,” I warn him; “You are swimming far from shore.”  
Says he louder: “Lie no more.”  

The rabble rise, and all are cheering; I stand my ground, erect and sneering,  
Mulling whether it is possible for order to restore. 
Finally, the room grows still, then someone shouts out, sounding shrill,  
“Robert Gibbs has stained his office and has much to answer for.” 
Here the rest take up the refrain: “Gibbs has much to answer for.  
He must pledge to lie no more.”  

“Leave!,” I roar, my stomach churning. “Briefing’s done, we are adjourning.” 
No one has moved when Jake starts . . . humming with a backup group of four.  
And then they laugh to underscore they will dish me out what-for   
From a slammin’ gangsta score:

Gibbsy doan wants ya fussin’ wid ‘im
Doan wants ya mussin’ wid ‘im
Wants ya to be a playa pushin’ single paya
So shut your faces ya know your places
Stay in the traces and ya’ll score some primo dope
And he’ll let ya stay inside the rope

Jake the Rapper, never droning, keeps intoning, keeps intoning
In the press room I abandoned, oh, a few months heretofore.
Ah, that shattering refrain, I shall hear it in my brain—

Copyright © Steve Grammatico | Year Posted 2016

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The Hunt

Form = Free Range Verse

The Hunt

Mans desire to hunt
Testing skills from the beginning of time
I had outfitted myself the day before
With camouflage, and all the tools of the trade
The excitement of catching my prey
Outwitting my fellow hunter a plenty
Tracking for hours and hours on end
Off I went in search of the trophy
In my jeep and down the hunters path
Being not so familiar with the terrain
I often backtracked, here and there
Moving from one place to the other
Silently and with anticipation
Looking forward to bringing home my kills
I had already a few scores to my name
Now for the final
The pièce de résistance
That made the hunt all the worth while
Bang! I got it
Hunts Tomato sauce in Isle seven

Oh how good the spaghetti dinner will be
Hope she appreciates all the fine hunting you see
I have done at Wal-Mart to make this evening show
Candles and guitar in the shimmering moonlight
The hunter so proud for being her shopping Knight!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

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As she walked across the sand,
receding waves made graffiti
out of the footsteps of a Valkyrie.
An ocean’s city let go of her hand
as we passed under a tree –
her hair like the gold of Valhalla’s marquee.
It was there, in another god’s hall,
the raven flew under a ceiling of shields,
and her grace lived in every swan.
It was then, when I first met need,
thirsting for wine but settling for mead.
Baldr’s death carved into a stone wall
moved me west to the mistletoe.
Her face held by another, his fingers 
the lightening that tore open the skies
and bled the blue into her eyes.
My first loss and left out of place,
to learn what can’t be taught.

Contest: Most Comments Received Poem 2018
Sponsor: July Morning
Written: 03.23.18

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2018

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Where Are You My Wolf

I've flown high, and I've flown far
I'd fly to the moon and nearest star

Above the treetops and I've flown wide
Some would say from me you try to hide

I'd fly forever and I would not never stop
Flying forever until I thought I would drop

My mission is to find my wolf ,my friend
I would search for you until the very end

For my white furred friend who is so kind
We have a connection you just can't unbind 

We share a friendly love,yes tis true
A mutual respect you have and I for you
But one day I awoke, and you did diappear
Of you being hurt ,or even worse i did fear

Then I spot you, my wolf you've been so bad
I land by you,to tell you later what a time I had

For I will let you sleep, as I peck your furry cheek
Laying my body by the paw. of the one I did seek

If you should ever again leave me can I come too
So we better understand what we both go through

Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2017

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Transition to Death - Part I

Visions of a life unseen, Moments that vanish before thee, Life progresses and I'm left behind, Death a transition of life foreseen. Today you're here, Tomorrow never seems to be, Instances of life and death, Raven of the night take flight and away! Death is calm and precise, Steady and obscure as the night, Pulling strings behind the veil, Pulling me under into the shade. Thy soul shall not awake, A tomb is now your room, Name engraved into stone, And a raven rests above your tomb. Be silent, be still, Believe, be free, Oh, raven, Take me where the shadows grieve. SC, July 10, 2017
In memory of my uncle † (June 22, 2017) † 10th place in the JULY PREMIERE CONTEST sponsored by Brian Strand

Copyright © Seth Callaghan | Year Posted 2017

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The Reapers song

 The midnight moon was full of woe
 As ravens soared within its glow
 Echoes of the reaper's song
 Drift on dark clouds all night long

 She who plays is dressed in black
 and as her threnody meanders through the mist
 the caw of ravens echo back,
  On these the reaper does subsist

 Her violin sows sorrow and despair
 And reaps a river filled with tears
  Her beauty belies her deadly tune
 So sweet the sound to charm the moon
 The thickening mist obscures the moon
 Death's melody plays on, without regret
 The fallen, through the fields are strewn,
 And many more souls will pay their debt
 Contest: The Poets Shadow
 Sponsor: Greg Barden

Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2017

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Edge of Night

 The dark caress of ravens flight
  Graze the tips of distant clouds
 Where moonbeams touch the edge of night
 And mystery slips behind a shroud

 A violin mourns with pain
 And echoes through the ebon realm
 Notes adrift with sad refrains
 Scatter emotions  which overwhelm

 Two hands of the clock slowly merge
 As midnight bells begin to ring
 From the darkness ravens emerge
 Cawing as they flap their wings

 These harbingers of death and gloom
 Such dark fears they do incite
 With glint of iridescent plume
 As moonbeams touch the edge of night

Copyright © Joseph May | Year Posted 2018

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Told You She Wasnt Typical

Told You She Wasn't Typical I stand to give you applause Raven see's what it really was Made no sense even from my view Sorry, I see who was true Like a champ she took it on the chin Confused why was she brought in Seeing where you came from Typical? No you played yourself dumb Embarassed, you took yourself to school Wasn't she who played the fool May have been a piece in your game Her emotions not invested, Its a shame You committed a cardinal sin Falsehood doesn't give you a win Should have told her what was up But arrogance overflowed your cup Should have been more dignified Or shown more pride Tsk,Tsk,Typical she can't relate See you didn't listen mate!

Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2018

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To a Raven

Fearless Raven, soaring in
the rich, dark chasm—
that world of shadows, echoes,
cliffs and crags chaotic,
the void of subtle stirrings in
a quintessential midnight—
Make some room for me
on your old, straight wings.
I, too, need to sense
lightning piercing stardust,
galvanizing mountains,
stoking distant thunder.
Let me catch a breath
of your pure, primeval air,
exotic and unshackling
latent, raw, unbounded.

Copyright © Carol Mays | Year Posted 2017

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Rape in the city, lifestyle was blamed
Rape of a teenager, clothing was blamed.
And now?

8 year old, simply dressed,
Living in village
No modern lifestyle
Innocent and unaware of all this.

Childishly innocent she probably didn't know what was happening
Only knew that her pain was accuring

Terrified and frightened she begged for mercy,
But the wasps remained bloodthirsty.

They murdered her innocence every day,
And then finally they took her painful breaths away.

Her name means "pure" and such was her soul,
Yet to their foul eyes,
Her body was only of the lust to behold.

Such was their monstrosity they didn't let her dead, broken and Battered body to be buried,

In the name of religion, they were blinded.
They took her death to religion's fair,
But let me tell you this: the day their daughter died, both "The Bhagavan" and "The Allah" cried.

The temple which once echoed of ringing bells
now echoes of the screams for justice of that 8-year-old.


Copyright © Aayushi singh | Year Posted 2018

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The iron core of the whole family
She stands with the long rooster
First crow which tears up, praying, and
Goes on laboring till the owl grave hoots
Herald the veiling darkness and darkness
Is life, and might. 
But also death and weakness.
The hoots made me feel so small when 
A child, and think of mother to soothe me,
For I had fears, and my people's fears were
Forced upon me too. 
The twain Angels 
Of life after Death!
Dream of stars, my eyes fully open 
To start
Away from my tiny world full of fairy tales
With the spider as the hero as running 
From the ghosts
Oh, Allah! Lost before standing on my feet!
I like my mom and she likes me too.
She prays Allah to grant me success
And I ask Him to forgive her, for
She’s always been my surest support
Of course she hadn’t been to school
But was a school herself. Proud 
Greedy reader, my friend, be sure that
She’s as divine as your MOST perfect mother.

Copyright © Jaafar Sadig El Waad | Year Posted 2015

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Silken Black Feathers

silken black raven gazes upon whimsical waxing moon’s shadows 7/13/2015

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2015

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Mistaken Identity

The fields are dry
the cow is dead
yet you insist
its all in my head.

An unkindness of ravens gather
calling in trees
as vultures circle
yet you exclaim 
"Eagles! Look!"

Fields of weeds
you call wildflowers 
and love 
the tumble mustard
the bachelor button
the baby's breath
the morning glory
as you put out feeders 
for grey squirrels
calling yourself 
an environmentalist.

Copyright © Thayne Tuason | Year Posted 2016

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Ghost of the Raven

Sinister scene of a dark September sight;
Hell's horrific harridan, heralding the night.
Tangled and twisted, like taut, twirled twine;
Set upon Satan's wicked, shameful, sordid shrine.

Interred in a musty cellar deep in the earth;
A questionable life, without any worth.
Entombed in stone, imprisoned in time;
A ghost lost in a world of foulness sublime.

A cathedral lovely, it's steeple plated in gold;
Under its floors a demon, horrific stories untold.
Laid down to rest many a year ago;
Sepulcher to its sorrows, troubles and woes.

A massive stone door encrypted with ominous crest;
Leading down a corridor of perilous quest;
Anyone who would dare enter and walk down the stairs;
An incredible journey, beyond compare.

Ghost of the Raven, it's soiled tainted nest;
An edifice embodying every foul, decaying, rotting stench of death.
In this ghost's darkened, abysmal' crypt;
A squalor befitting betrayal - it's tainted carcass dripped.

As I stood in the horror of this insidious crypt;
Insanity beckoned to me as I quickly began losing, my tenuous grip.
As I gazed down that awful corridor of death;
I sensed, no I felt, the dark angel's searing, hellish breath.

Conjured from the depths of Lucifer's night,
It's evil eyes blazing, in obvious delight.
Breaking through the bonds of human desire,
Reaching for my soul, to harvest my being for his hellish fire.

Realm of darkness, fading into the morning light;
Contrasts of the netherworld, and the depths of the night.
Radiance of the dawn to dispel all my fears;
Ghosts of my conscience - yesterday's tears.


Copyright © R.A. Marschall | Year Posted 2016

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Grand Canyon

The Grand Canyon is like the brain
with deep, unexplored fissures and tributaries, 
the main route well known by now.

I am walking, walking inside my mind, 
a grand canyon, a planet of canyons, a system
of planets. The exploration may become dangerous

I might lose my job, forgetting to go or losing
sight of its importance. But the job is gathering
pinyon nuts and saguaro fruits, it is the main

river, deepest cavity, how I find the unexplored
canyons and tributaries of my neighbors
and my enemies. But is it a religion, 

a reason for living. It is a marriage, for better
or worse, with all the other living. The concept
of life's brevity, temporary compared

with the time taken to carve the canyon, does
not interest me. Each moment has a weather, 
is a mirror of all other moments. The naming

of things goes on. Cliff rose and wavyleaf oak, 
new mexican locust and sagebrush among ponderosa
and pinyon pine, juniper. Once I know

who they are inhabiting the canyon, the raven's
flight is meaningful. The raven's rock cave, 
search for seed and carrion, my home and job.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

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A raven, mystical; not a bad bird; good.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

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Silent Unholy Nights a Collaboration

A Collaboration with Marti Sutherland

Circling the table before they feast, black ravens crow
bright beady eyes darting to and fro, away they go
landing on a wounded body that has not yet died
circling the skies before they feast, dark ravens cried

On their bellies through titanic grass, slimy snakes slither
forked tongues searching for innocent prey, coming hither
Reptiles crawling from under rocks, cold-blooded and chilled
their fangs leaving lethal bites,  and another victim is killed

skulking in shifting shadows, deceitful humans lie in wait
Bearing no name, no face; beware of the wicked who hate
Brutal bashers who take what they want at the cost of life
Back stabbers living in a harsh world where hypocrisy is rife

Ravens, snakes and evil humans sit on thrones of deceit
Like black widows they feast on their mates when they cheat
They spin their lies so easily, like the sticky web of a spider
Beware you are not caught when their mouths open wider

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

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One thirty in the morning

Why do the young
Still bleed without hurt?

Have we stolen infants dreams?
Childhoods should not contain screams

Suicide is a deadly game
If only love could wipe away the shame

Raindrops on flowers
Meadows bloom, nothing is sour

Child let me take you in my arms
So young you deserve only love and no harm

I will  burn all your sadness away
If only for a smile, you cry out I want to stay

Your heart seeps into the hearts of many
Your love shines, depression your enemy

I am far, we have never met
For that I would hug you, and say

The world needs you, don't go just yet
The winds brings a hug that begs you to stay

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018

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Raven's Night

       Winds a' blowing all around-
       So dark I cannot see,
       A figure, hush - don’t make a sound-
       That reflection can’t be me!

       The moon is rising to full extent-
       Heart pounding with poignant glee,
       A glorious night for this grand event-
       My victims come to me!

       Brain is whirling, twirling fast-
       Timing is such a key,
       Almost there, heart please do last-
       A feast awaits for me!

       Through glowing amber eyes, I spy-
       Perfect prey to be,
       I can’t help but give a sigh-
       Come, little morsels, to me!

       A raven’s form I’ve taken on-
       Upon the branch of a barren tree,
       Watching them play on a graveyard lawn-
       Soon a drinking spree for me!
       All together, what a sight-
       Laughing, not thinking to flee,
       Tipping headstones on this late autumn night-
       Never sensing the danger in me!

       I can taste the blood, can hardly wait-
       Poor souls, they can’t foresee,
       Lightning fast, they’ll meet their fate-
       Upon their necks, I’ll be!

       Ah-h-h-, quenched my thirst for another year-
       Til I rise from my coffin free,
       On All Hallows’ Eve night you should walk in fear-
       “Cause you, my next victim, might be!”

Copyright © Genevieve Mika-Stevens | Year Posted 2015

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We the Ravens

rewrite of former poem

We are shiny sleek, black birds, 
don’t underestimate our wit,
we are of the corvid family, 
the most "intelligent,"

We are passerines, 
the largest of their kind,
19,000 feet up sometimes – 
look and us you’ll find-

For thirty years or more, 
we may fly upon this earth,
weighing up to 4 1/2 pounds, 
but only an ounce or two at birth-

We mimic other’s speech, 
and are among the smartest fowl,
we’re clever and we’re shrewd, 
and like a wolf, can howl,

A constable, a conspiracy, 
an unkindness – we’ve been called,
teamlng together for take-downs, 
we often make larger prey fall-

We make complex decisions, 
and love to frolic and play, 
even with 54 inch wing spans, 
we can do aerobatic tricks all day,

We nest in desert rock cavities, 
or in tall forest conifer trees, 
and high up in beach cliff crevices, 
hanging out over the coastal seas-

On land we take others’ food, 
that we’ve managed to cunningly seize,
letting others do the hard work first,  
then taking what we please-

In ancient times we fueled the myths, 
of symbols good and bad,
and though we have a wide repertoire of calls, 
Our croaking may drive you mad……

Copyright © Genevieve Mika-Stevens | Year Posted 2015

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the elderly man and the raven

the elderly man and the raven where not the best of friends. the raven teased the old man
about his upcoming death. You will die soon the raven would say. And for a life in which
you did nothing at all.
  the old man did not reply instead he would simply sigh and carry on with the mocking
raven at his side 
   but  this was not enough for the raven for in return for all his cruelty the old man
was very kind. And the raven simply could not understand.
     then one night the old man woke with a fright. he thought of the raven and went
outside. And there all battered and bruised was the raven with little life left for it to
choose . With a little patch work the raven lived and lived to be a hundred the man lived to be very old they shared a toast on there last days at one point the raven stopped and asked curiously why?to which he simply smiled and replied because in all of us there is good inside.the raven smiled to then they closed there eyes and went to heaven together

Copyright © tifarrah miller | Year Posted 2009

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The Wounded

They all sleep
Or weep
In hospital beds
Or in prison dregs

Pain and sorrow
Missed tomorrows
Yesterday's wishes gone
Tomorrows become undone

I miss them all
Who will be first?
To that last road that ends
Where a new life begins

In Disneyland

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017

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Stagnant Scarecrow

Surrounded by wheat 
maybe shadowed by pines. 
Silence is your lonesome ties. 

All alone on top of that hill 
your wood board a crutch 
drawing black birds craving your perch. 

Harassed by scorched sun in summer 
freezer burnt by the bitter wind 
known as winter's accomplice. 

Stitched lips render you helpless 
triangled hues take in reoccuring lines 
upon this old map. 

Identical auromas no scent of new. 
What about rain and the morning dew? 
It appears the straw you bleed soaks. 

Hung up high and dry 
your only onlookers that of scavengers. 
Who says misery doesn't like company? 

An exile you may be. 
Oh on that hill you stand 
willing to let others have the spoils.

Copyright © Hailey Comet | Year Posted 2015