So Sings the Crow

Woe! Woe! Sings the crow,

Within his nest of twine.

Thrice he calls to save his mind,

Once he doth want mine.

 

No! No! Do I reply,

But not because I tread

Within a maze of sacred gaze

Painted with a dawning red.

 

I merely fear the riddled bird

Would fall from perch, to stony earth,

For this mind of mine is intertwined

In a branch of glorified finds.

 

Insanity is calling,

And dreamed filled sleep is falling.

 

Yet still he calls,

The silly bird,

Is not of nature's binding.

 

And with the start

Of falling snow

His purity is blinding.

Reviews

[Pamela A. Lamppa]

Interesting. Emulation of old classiscs in archaic style. I did find the caitalization of every line distracting however. as it takes away from natural speak and readability. But once one realizes the emulation of the old classics, it has a nice rhythm when once it gets going - and I am so very partial to rhyme. I loved the rhyme in this.

Insanity is calling and dream-filled sleep is falling...

I loved that line and find it inspiring. It presents a whole world to spin from. Well done with this. An enjoyable poem. ~Pamela

[Helena]

Loved this poem.....very well penned indeed!
Thank you for submitting this to my contest ~ Helena