Two crows attempted a murder.
Said the one to the other, ‘caw!’
The second one lifted his streamlined head
and replied, ‘nevermore.’
‘You’re ravin’!’ croaked the first -
‘wrong of corvid - different poem.
You may as well be a Tennyson eagle,
living in a pleasure dome.
Get thee to a hemlock tree;
on your black, a dust of snow.
Inspect the crumbs and the farmer’s corn
and speak less than you know.
What corruption has passed your beak
to make you speak as you did before?
It’s absurd for a bird to talk.’
Quoth the second, ‘nevermore.’
sitting outside in my pajamas
a beautiful breezy May morning
dandelion, clover and violets at my feet
my puppy is splashing in his pool, making it muddy
King dog lies in the shade under a hemlock tree
fluffy white dandelion fuzz barely moves
I hear a small plane engine
not one bit of traffic here
birds are chirping and tweeting
diverse colors of green between trees and bushes
interstate noises are far off in the distance
someone shuts a door up the road
motorcycle engine
a lone car drives past
dogs used to chase the fence when this happened, not today
baby dog is digging a hole to put his face in
King dog sits on my foot, all one hundred and twenty-six pounds of him
perfect morning
what are those? I ask, my voice cracking a bit.
They are long deep claw marks in my hemlock tree.
Made by a cougar? A mountain lion? a puma?
My cat cannot stop giggling.
In Central Park, an owl lived
And Barry was her name,
So cute and charismatic
She attained a well-earned fame.
Arriving in October
To her favorite hemlock tree,
She preened and stretched and hunted
Every night, for all to see.
Her mere existence brought such joy
New Yorkers gathered ‘round
To photograph or just observe
This treasure they had found.
Her recent death, colliding with
A maintenance-crew truck,
Brought sorrow to so many
Who admired her looks and pluck.
A vigil for her drew a crowd
To bid a fond farewell
To a special creature who changed lives
By visiting a spell.
The way a Crow shook down on me
The dust of Snow from a Hemlock tree
Has saved some part of a dismal Mood
That I had on another day.
a little bird jolts into a hemlock tree
its about to pour on he
he greets a she on the branch above
after the storm he fell in love.
they seemed not to notice the rain much
time went by quick, which they lost touch
said he to she, I want you for my mate
said she to he, this was not even a real date.
we’ll go to the wise old owl to get hitched
I can’t go she said, I haven’t even a stitch
my feathers are soaked I look like a sight
besides I don’t just do one night.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.