My Poem “Up With The Crows”

I’ve always been an early riser…
I’ve always awoken before
the sun has risen above the horizon…
I’ve always bee someone lucky enough
to have been given the gift of being
able to hear and to be able to listen
to the beautiful symphony
and the majestic choir of the dawn chorus
sung by all manner of birds.

I’ve always been a poet who has looked,
listened, and took in the spirit
and the essence that greets me
every morning when I open up
all of my senses to all the wonders
and all the magic that I have felt –
all the inspiration that has been
conjured within my mind
that have been converted into perfect words.

Some mornings I wake up
and I am instantly and automatically
ready for the day ahead of me,
and then there are those mornings
when it takes me a minute or two
to find my bearings
and get my priorities straight…
some mornings I feel like
I am ahead of the game,
and some mornings I feel like
my brain is running late.

Every morning is definitely
a different morning than the one
that came before and it will definitely
be different from the one that will follow;
however, I am just like everybody else
and I too have my own version
of a morning routine that I believe
stands me in good stead
and starts my day off on the right foot –
and I like to think that every morning
I am prepared to zig and to zag
and to adapt to every thing that the world
is just waiting to throw my way.

Some mornings, my thoughts, my feelings,
my blood, runs fast –
and some mornings, like a car
stuck in a traffic-jam,
the highway of my consciousness runs slow;
however, I can honestly report
that there hasn’t been many mornings
during my life, even as child,
when I have not woken up
with a brand new idea in my mind
that I want to caw about
and at the same time as the crows.

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My Poem ‘Corvus’

As black as the night-sky,
as intelligent as a mathematician,
as symbolic of life and death
as any bird that you will seeing flying in the sky,
the Crow is a bird that has always
gripped me with intrigue, awe, and fascination.

Crows have always been close by
when something life-changing and important
was just about to rise on the horizon;
there have been legends written and told
that tell of crows being messengers of life and the afterlife;
crows have featured in many supernatural stories
that walk a line of magic,
and tell tales of emissaries of hell and heaven;
if there we ever a bird that I would imagine
to be the perfect embodiment of night existing during the day,
it would have to be the crow, in every way –
even their black, pearl-like, eyes
are enough to elicit a shiver and a fright.

I often hear the caw of a crow;
I see a murder of crows almost every day;
I live very near to a forest of trees
in which crows roost and have a nest
on almost every branch of every tree,
and they have been there for longer than I know;
I have come face to face with a crow more than once,
and on more than one occasion it seemed to me
as if there was more to their fascination with me than I could ever say.

Crows are carriers of information;
crows are renowned in mythology as omens of gods and goddesses,
as tricksters, as reincarnated spirits,
who have unparalleled direction.
I believe there is more truth in a crows symbolism and significance
than legend or mythology could ever tell us.
In my bedroom, I have the most life-like
figure of a crow you will ever see,
and for some reason the sight of them
always gives me pause and focus;
and the name that I have given the crow perched on my bookshelf,
next to my Stephen King books,
is the same name as its genus –
the one and only ‘Corvus’.

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