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Poems About: RAVEN

In this page, poems on / about “raven” are listed.

  • 49.

    A raven
    In the palm of my read more »

    Aldo Kraas
  • 50.
    Old Souls

    huge ravens
    tease & taunt
    by breezy rice-ponds
    near Colusa read more »

    Craig Steiger
  • 51.
    Haiku - Snow and Budding Branch

    read more »

    john tiong chunghoo
  • 52.

    read more »

    Bac Phong
  • 53.

    Strong, Deadly
    Seething, Writhing, Killing
    The Raven Mockers call read more »

    Diana Young
  • 54.
    Peach Sunset

    read more »

    Marites C. Cayetano
  • 55.
    Raven Black

    a woman's
    raven black tears
    falling read more »

    Paula Puddephatt
  • 56.
    Prologue 1

    read more »

    Ahmad Shiddiqi
  • 57.
    Raven Haiku

    read more »

    Chenou Liu
  • 58.
    Tortures Of Life

    Late one night, almost twelve midnight
    I sat alone on my bathroom floor.
    The cool air brushed my skin.
    Old habits coming back to haunt me. read more »

    Roxanne Grady
  • 59.
    Torch Bearers (extremely old) .

    The storm wafted away to reveal the setting. A farmhouse painted abandoned in the wakes of the rooster in the early renaissance of spring. The sunlight hardly skimmed the surface of the horizon as it illuminated a raven’s silhouette. The bird had been through so many storms, so many hails of shotguns, and so many felines and motors that it appeared to be as ancient as the farmhouse itself. Like the falling down structure, it had patches of itself missing – torn away feathers, a chipped beak, and a wounded leg. One wing was winded and withering away, so much so that when it flew it was lopsided like a painting hung in an insensitive hurry. Despite all of this, it was alive. More alive, even, then it had ever felt in long-ago flights through the windiest of weather. And you could tell. You could see the vivacity in its sharp eyes; you could recognize the living wisdom before you even noticed the dilapidated wings.
    It was perched atop a scarecrow’s decaying arm, contemplating what it would do now that the rabbit had gone. It was not exactly sure whereto it had disappeared, but it had left the sun looking so much brighter.
    The raven was always watching that rabbit like a mother watches her child at a crowded amusement park, waiting for the rabbit to notice its watchful gaze. Harm was not in the bird’s mind. It was simply fascinated by the rabbit, wondering how it could hop so wonderfully fast when frightened, wishing it could feel the white fur that laced the rabbit’s back. But the rabbit, too engrossed in its own beauty and mysterious world, never noticed the raven. Sometimes it saw a black shadow out of the corner of its eye, and waved it off as hazardous – nothing it could eat – and decided to pay no heed to it. Finally the bird had been so weighed down by the wistful longing it felt that it needed to fulfill the desires it had to make contact with the breathtaking ears. It swooped down in a desperate rage, a bullet to a victim’s chest, desperately reaching out to caress the rabbit. Mistakenly terrified, the rabbit disappeared in a cloud of dirt, leaving the raven utterly bewildered and miserable as it collided with the ground like an atomic bomb.
    For days it dozed in the dirt, dejected, angry at itself and the rabbit, swearing it would never become fascinated with another living thing again. One morning, as it croaked into the wind, a small figure appeared in the distance, its tiny fuzzy nose twitching as it carefully skipped along the field. The raven, forgetting all of its valuable promises to itself, lifted its head hopefully. Again, it admiringly stared at the oblivious rabbit, torturing itself little by little, until again, it soared in hopefulness, speeding towards the furry creature. This time the rabbit didn’t budge. It stared observantly at the raven, and sniffed the bird in acknowledgment. The raven was dumbfounded, and followed the rabbit around for weeks. The rabbit never paid much attention to it, yet the raven was blissful, stricken with an arrow that made it feel like it was floating somewhere in a dream. read more »

    Alison Rosalie
  • 60.
    Love Story

    In a dark, haunted house, lives a princess of the night. Far away from civilization, where nobody dares to live. Spider webs hanging on every wall. Her only friend, a raven upon her shoulder. Dancing her mystical performance in the glow of the full moon. One night she called upon the raven. ”Raven, do you think there is another person in this world who loves me? ” The raven could not answer. For you see ravens can not talk.

    Years have passed. Now at the age where she doesn’t want to be alone anymore. But, knowing that there was no one near her. She became very distraught. She called to the raven once more. “Raven please find a person to love me! ” And away flew the raven, obeying the princess of the night. read more »

    Rebecca Hall
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