Friday, November 19, 2010

Poetry Friday


Scavenger. Unmelodic and
jagged with lost sleep.
Suburb dweller. Crow
perched on top of the pine.

Calling, the intervals random,
only the tone predictable -
its broken yearning -
calling the prodigals,
the wanderers,

Eyes on the children
who play on the morning-wet lawn.

Heart in flight. Kin.

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  1. Lovely. I love crows, with all their freight of omen, not to mention their forwardness. You have to worry a little about a crow watching the kids on the lawn, even when you know it can't really carry them away . . .

  2. Wow this is beautiful and haunting. I love the last three lines after the set up in the beginning. Do something more with this one!

  3. love "jagged with lost sleep" and "calling ... the wanderers" -- I agree, beautiful and haunting. Thanks for sharing this one!

  4. I think it's haunting, too. Love "calling the prodigals, the wanderers.

  5. I love the jagged rhythm of your poem. Fitting for a crow's call.

  6. This is the time of year, when I notice them more, the crows and the ravens. No one ever accuses them of song, although you named it right--that broken yearning calling out.

  7. Thanks for the positive feedback.Due to the time difference, a nice surprise upon waking.

  8. Wow. You had me at 'suburb dweller'. This is a wonderful poem.

  9. Oh, I love the jagged with loss of sleep. And the ominous watching of those children. Moody and fabulous! Thanks for sharing.