theme. I like that you have compared troubles of life to the crow. They do tend to make things troublesome sometimes. I wish that you had continued the rhyme scheme to the last lines. It would make for a smoother finish. ~ Gee.
.

and yes..if they find nests of other birds they will land and eat the young
from the shell..like we go to the AROY DEES resturant
and eat shellfish
saw a crow on a tree today on my run home\
already come up the hill from the bridge where a van
went past and covered me with dirty salted water
crow was laughing and I was laughing too bobbying my
head..........CTV..our local camera and television reporters
went by me in a van...they know me..i know them
they would have seen me talking to crow
a nice moment

crows are about as bright as an eight year old
I knew people who raised damaged crows
wings busted....each has their own personality
they are heavy
they weigh eight pounds and up
ravens bigger...fifteen pounds and up
why they need to eat everything to sustain
their energy flying about

but they are grand creatures

W

among the green and terraced lives in limbo
stuck on a cryptic clue and frying eel,
am i, while a murder rape the cupboards,
bearing the weight of dipping bees, yet feel

a colonic irrigation of the senses
that vapourise like sweetly fizzing gas
as lavender lingers on the threshold
and neighbours take their bikes to bits en mass;

yet above the almanac of broken gaskets
and bathroom hums and spitting feral cats;
across the confounded bridge of memory
come playtime voices and archaic chats

and a sweetheart's painted hairslide, vest, and panties
in polka dotted green and printed smiles
like a postcard slicing realness to confetti
a sens'ry exercise out on the tiles

and woven in the golden strands of snapshots
along the dotted line, between the slap
the pro-crastinations of the camera
impel the clockwork hands to overlap

and words fly up and down like shuttlecocks
of jewels once clasped in bumpy-hopeless trust
where clumsy expectations gave a nod
to everything that crumbled into dust

from fertile, sunlit carpets of wild flowers;
love circling like the prettiest carousel
beholding possibilities, then squeezing
a spinal tap of lullabies to hell

where reynard slinks, feathered from the henhouse
scuppering tarot decks and sea-scaped wives
in a playground of muddle-headed wonder,
stripping the birds and bees, disturbing hives

the fabrique of outraged, bumbling bee queens
waxing lyrical like siren shoals
honeydripping scrupulous telescopics;
pied-piping tropical dreams to perilous holes

where moles pop-up among the wild brassica
where cabbages are cabbages, not nuts
with kalashnikovs holy smoking massacre;
oiling well them sat upon their butts

laughing like a eurostar to zurich
and a slippery slope, icing on the cake
that comes complete with candles on a sunday
finding me upon my knees, 'for heaven's sake!'

as an a.k. forty-seven shoots the memory
or a catapult 'n stone or two of stones
to pebbledash these bastard, thieving black birds
and stop their ravenous cleaning of my bones.

i enjoyed very much your poem. thank you.

(secretly I pluck out the white...away away spot)
who wants a wizards child? no dumbledorfs
heir to a throne....)

when america ran out of passenger pigeons
and buffalo
when zealand ran out of zylofox
they bore the dark reign of the saucy crow
dreading its intelligence to know
what meal unfertiled by wind and rain
was pecked up consumed
by the black birds brain

still a bounty on them stateside
the trusty 410 Marlin
and coey with sight
yet they proliferate overnight
no scared crow
but the undertow of the multitudes
ravenous plight
the blighty buggers

somewhere in my vault of mind
is Johnny Cash in a document
with a crow..
somehow the man in black
and the icon of dark
both rebels
refined and succintly
despised resides
fresh

myself...I knew domesticated
kind...but preferred the stately
Raven....
whose speckled egg
like dawns sky grow to
silken wingtip sparkling
with its oiled might

..

excellent poem

thank U

you must see them soon, yes?

Just a little more from my poetry this time lol:-

Tyburn Tree
Submitted by Ian.T on Sat, 2013-08-10

Sunken bloody holes appeared
At your feet, as you held my nose
Swaying at your weight was all I could do
The dizzy world of promise true

Death had been my prize
Killing your dreams of a family
I held yours by the throat
Till they twitched a tune I held so dear

Now you bring the reaper
To laugh at me with sharpened blade
A rope for the death of one child
Now go away and leave me to rot

Friends prepare a stench for me to grovel in
Should I grace their hell with a visit.
Eyes now gone, life source extinguished
I shall not tarry on this rope limbed tree.

Tyburn where they use to hang people and the ravens or Crows would feast, yuk!!
Have a lovely day out there, Yours Ian..x

I grew up with the song surfer bird but only when Stanley Kubrick
genius put it in the movie did it mean even more to me..

see the crows around here a lot..and we have many many ravens
there is one that has this particular voice...they mimic others
i marvel at the intellect of these creatures having met a few
up close....they dont need batteries to fly and soar like
the fun drone toys..

but they are clever and will find good sustenance where
its available the they new hatchlings of other birds or
seeds..why man has shotguns 410s and twenty twos
and poison seed...
and the are ruthless mauraders
a train crew north late seventies
a moose had been struck and was crippled
the crew wanted to extract the remaining non
smashed up meat....the drove the units
to the yard where they were loading gravel
and bank widening with a machine like a plow
a loader machine for tilling the air powered
dumper cars...
the moose was not going anywhere
they asked Capreol for permission to
run the units on the line and the reason
..railroaders stick together like the military
and a moose will provide for families
so they gave them the okay....
they had a legal long gun with them
they said it took two hours to unhook
the deisel units and run up the line
sit in sidings for freights to pass
by the time they got to the moose
a whole pile of birds..ravens crows
had driven out the eyes of the poor
creature and eviserated its rear
plumbing....this horrified the hardy
stalwart men....they said they show
a few of these frugal and practical
survivors before dispatching the
demised moose..
then working on the tasty remains
..same men were dropped off
at fish sites on lake crossings
while the other crew filled in
they would take the catch of the day
and run it through a grinder and
make fish cakes for crew and
operators and management
my father was foreman..did the
time sheets....he was the man
who used track phone...it was
his say...his unit then....

he couldnt have been put out too
much by it..he belonged to a legion
(he was grand master of the algonquin
Lodge for a time) the legion meat
once past expiry date he would load
up in the bird feeder in front of our
kitchen window..pretty much level
and he had photos of eleven crows
sitting on the wooden roof extracting
with their peckish tool of black bill]
the tasty offerings...

my bird stories...

a friend in a dodge omni..like a little
austin mini...was driving on an elevated
portion of roadway rising up over tram
tracks...railroad tracks here..
windy...some black crows were swooping
up the side grade and a gust shoved
them literally into the open window of the
car....my freinds said the kids were screaming
his son and daughter then seven and nine
the birds were hollering..
he said to this day they are deathly afraid
of crows...I can see the reasoning behind
this...

I like that U wrote a poem about the crows
and its a very good one

thank U

W