Saturday, January 2, 2016

Crow Wind



Crow Wind







On the crow wheel, the war wind
black Valkyries ride
when battle's faltered, when red hands are still.

Full of eyes they become,
to see far and know
just how we rise up in the crop of a crow;

so the lost and blind
will learn to fly
with the bright-eyed on wheels of sky.





~January 2016










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Images: Crow at Sunset.  by F. Lionel via National Geographic Photo Contest 2015
Still from Vikings TV series on History channel, season one
All rights reserved to copyright holders. No copyright infringement intended.

18 comments:

  1. The entire poem is full of clear images. The first stanza is imprinted in my skull--that still hand, coated in the recently-living, ready to joined the "crow wheel"...

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  2. What a wonderful mythic feel this has!

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  3. I really like the concept of a crow wind and the war wind... and I can hear the Valkyries riding the storm.. (I almost thought you would have picked the picture I picked for this poem)...

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  4. The presence of crows never fails to remind me of those of legend, and omen. I always count them.
    You have made an awesome word choice in the poem - and every one counts as it should when limited to 55.

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  5. Hi Joy--I have really cheated in my 55 and feel a bit guilty reading yours--I have done rather a sampler--but in any case, I love the sense of the wheeling of the bird here, and also a dark wheel rather like fate or Samsara or Hughs' crow. I can't help but think of the crop of the crow as that part of its digestive journey--between throat and stomach! And the way that we rise is really a rising in the gorge as it were--(kind of terrible but fits here with the decay and scavenging that follows the red hands stilled.) A strange kind of reincarnation to be sure, eyes picked and re-sited. Anyway, I am feeling super super guilty now, and but not guilty enough to go back and edit mine! I hope the world won't come down to this. k.

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  6. ps - of course, crop works in the other ways too, which is what makes it such a good word choice--and cool to have crow growing some crop rather than scarecrow-- and riding crop etc--anyway a key word here I thought. k.

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    1. Thanks, k. As always your insights bring out all kinds of hidden details. Much appreciated.

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  7. what I admire so much about your pens is how, on the 2nd and subsequent readings, more layers unfold. I don't know if I have the energy to post to this but if I do, know that it's because this piece ~

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    1. It takes juice to write--let your batteries charge, M--though your words are always a grace I welcome.

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  8. Interesting melange here, crow as death-eagle or Valkyrie peregrinating the ramparts of death, above the field of battle, driving the souls with her crop and raising them as her crop: an equalizer, as both "lost" and "blind" and "bright-eyed," all now dead, are free. Morrigan was a soaring crop-duster over the fields of the dead, painting those towns red. Great pairing with the image.

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    1. She was indeed. Those who learned in the hard school of earth knew exactly what the crows were for. Also more than a tinge of irony in the analogy, I feel. Thanks, B.

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  9. The crow's medicine is reflected in your words so well!

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  10. Oh you are just bouncing in your seat for your Vikings to come back, aren't you? You're so cute, sitting there in your horned hat, preparing the mead. ;-)

    Meanwhile, I can feel the rush of the wind as I read this.

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  11. Thought evoking imagery ... reminds me of a sage speaking to his/her tribe ... I feel that with each reading there is more to find, mysteries to unravel - a great write ... Bastet

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  12. Crow, crow. Love this.
    Happy New Year, Joy!

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg