The Ravens are coming

I dreamt of a strange mysterious land

Neatly decorated with snowy sands. 

An old dilapidated house made of stones

Covered by a lawn and fencing zones. 

 There is this lone girl waiting for a ride

Near a bus station she stands by the side

She watches the ruin with an eerie look

As if she knows, something is off the hook

Then my vision shift to a group of ravens  

Digging earthly treasure for their safe haven

As if in an ancient ritual of winter sermon. 

I look close, at the their tall awkward gait

Appearing as dark sketches on a white slate. 

The girl stares at me, and whispers a word, 

Ravens!!  then she says, are rarely in herds, 

They are solitary , why together they are here

This is a native puzzle which is still not clear. 

She Wonders and says, the corvids have come, 

As winter is coming, they belong in their homes, 

There is a myth of long perished witches, 

Maybe they visit this time of year to fix some old glitches

Either way some stories of cold winters are unknown, 

Hear team but better to leave them alone. 

I stared at the strangeness for the last time, 

When I heard the faint jingling of sacred chimes, 

I looked around the girl and ravens disappeared 

I was left alone, with a strange state I reared

While I write, I still  contemplate a dream so true

Sometimes tale of weirdness has their own virtue!! 

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33 comments

  1. I especially like ‘their tall awkward gait
    Appearing as dark sketches on a white slate’ because it gives me a vivid image to carry away from the poem. Such observant images, built into your strong sense of rhythm and rhyme will always make poetry that I want to read. Keep observing and keep writing!

     
  2. Thank you for stopping by my blog. I am so glad you did. Your moving poem is the perfect tone for the cloudy mysterious day I am viewing from my office window. Your poem also reveals a serendipitous moment. I missed taking a photo of a beautiful pink sunrise by moments this morning, but I did capture six raven sitting on the top of a still lit lamp pole. Had I not missed the sunrise, my eyes may not have wandered to the ravens. I am glad I did not miss them or your poem this morning.

     
    • Thanks a lot for reading my work and I am glad that you experienced a mystifying relatable moment. I loved the way you described the experience and how you connected the dots with nature and the poetry. Sometimes the universe wants different elements to connect. Glad it did, I am happy to drop by your blog and would be a regular visitor. 😊

       

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