Upon the discovery of my death,
do not beat your breast, do not gnash your teeth.
Truly, do not lament my stolen breath.
sing hymns, and lay this body on the heath—
funeral march beneath the firmament.
Let the carrion crow consume these eyes,
a steel-blue pair of deceased ornaments.
Listen as the morbid corvidae cries
with ravenous glee over such a gift.
He will not let earthly flesh go to waste—
eat the entrails, and sup the warm blood, swift.
Do not deny my beloved his taste.
A life that is done cannot be redone.
Leave the bones to bleach under face of sun.
Categories:
corvidae, cry, dark, death, depression,
Form: Sonnet
Birthday Party
Wolves and foxes had promised me not to fight on my birthday and
I made meaty cakes just for them; But black ravens I had not invited,
came too, egged them on, while also cruelly harassing sparrows in
the plum tree. I had put lights up on the trees in the garden but they
could not on my, day behave. I took the cakes inside, switched off
the lights went to bed and cried. A rumble in the forest, a bear came
told them to behave and be kind to me, mainly because I had baked
it a straw berry tart. The party continued, and squirrels sat on trees
squeaking happy birthday to you as I threw them nuts. In the animal
world it is all about food and as long as you can provide you’re a friend.
Except the raven they do not care, are contemptuous of my feeble,
attempt to be loved by unruly members of the Corvidae family.
Categories:
corvidae, fantasy, birthday,
Form: Blank verse