they go insane when they see your dark hair.
I'm filled with birds by the thousands, all night-black and twisting,
letting me know they know their business;
letting me know they're there.
Each one can recognize a single face from a crowd.
Each one is individual,
intelligent,
loud.
The face they want is your face.
No use in quizzing them, they don't negotiate.
I can feel them when they get restless--
they remind me of the Nine Mile fire of 1975,
and the millions of nights since then.
They remind me that everything alive begins with black,
then flies, then falls, then stills again.
Here is another poem for you,
flocked with feather thread, I think--
a night-bloom by the crows demand
from match and bauble, soul and ink.
_______
For Ella's challenge at Real Toads. I have tried to capture the feeling just before I write a poem. In addition, she insists on a nod to home; the Nine Mile fire of 1975 was the biggest in the history of the city where I live.
restless, painful, haunting.
ReplyDeleteMatch and bauble, soul and ink.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous.
(By the way, Picoult's "Second Glance" was not a thrill-a-thon nor a page-turner in my opinion. And of course I'm going to buy 2 of your books--1 for me and 1 for a friend.)
My new favorite! Gosh, I love every line and I have this thing about Crows.
ReplyDeleteI had black/blue hair growing up. No, I don't have a big beak-lol.
Oh, there is so much mystical illusion in this offering! Your 'wa' is spot on~
Ravens and crow bring messages from the darkness-just like your poems~
Love yours
You touch and thrill me like no other. Poet.
ReplyDeleteThis is perfection.. How else can we explain the blackness of ink?.. it makes total sense to me.
ReplyDelete'.. everything alive begins with black,/then flies, then falls, then stills again.,,' also like the last lines and the rhyme, which serves this dish warmly, as always.
ReplyDeleteThat ending is perfection
ReplyDeleteI've always wondered what the difference was between a crow and a raven. I've always been told that a crow is a symbol of death, and that a raven is a symbol for insight. Then one day someone told me it was the opposite. I suppose it depends on a person's perspective. Great poem Shay! Animals always seem to peer into someone's soul.
ReplyDeleteThay do have that quizzcal look about them, these birds here a lot af grackles(black with shiny feathers) are froliciking about, from time to time they alight with athat look
ReplyDeleteNice poem about your crows
much love...
I have a pretty good beak, but the hair has gone to grey - what's left of it.
ReplyDeleteLove your poem.
I'm in W. Bloomfield.
We're almost neighbors.
Cheers!
JzB
i felt the struggle in this... hope the writing was easier
ReplyDeleteLove the way you employed "black" opening with the crow and closing with black and stillness...the last portion is interesting...the way that it feels, to me, to be separate from the entirety.
ReplyDeleteThis is gorgeous, one of my faves, full of birds as it is. I especially love "everything alive begins with black,then flies, then falls, then stills again." Wow!!
ReplyDeleteFeather thread is an amazing notion--and the black and the confusion of hair and faces works so well here--there is that in writing for sure--the sorting of out confusion and the rescuing from the fire. Thanks, Shay. I think a scribble is a word I should consider borrowing if people don't like "draft." Though I think this is certainly finished. k. (Manicddaily and not a robot.)
ReplyDelete"They remind me that everything alive begins with black, then flies, then falls, then stills again." Powerful line and i love how you ended it.
ReplyDeleteI love the same lines Susie has quoted. There is always a deep sense of passion at the heart of your poetry.
ReplyDeleteOh my, Shay. This is gorgeous!!! I'm particularly fond of this one. You do have a special kinship with birds. There's something "extra" in all your bird-related poems.
ReplyDeleteI'm nuts over the first stanza.
Of the dark of crows a soul learns to speak and fall and rise and repeat, drawn to itself and dark likenesses in hair and shadow ... I believe this and its playfulness and seduction. A powerful origin for poetry.
ReplyDeleteYou've really captured that restlessness, that gathering energy. Beautiful, Shay.
ReplyDeleteNo escaping (or lying to) their piercing keen eye. Very moody - it's like the calm before the storm and one can hear a pin drop…
ReplyDeleteSurely the Devil's own creatures these Crows are!
ReplyDeleteare all the neighborhoods there named "Mile"? Eight Mile... Nine Mile... Skippidy Doo Dah Mile...
ReplyDelete♥