Butterworth Crows
Before the crack of dawn
The Butterworth crows assembled on the wire
Like black cloaked and hooded crones
They often haggle and moan over nothing more than carrion and crusts
Today though
The Butterworth Crows prepare to rejoice as
yet another spurned lover
Casually checks the timetable against his wrist watch
Before stepping blindly from the platform
Directly into the path of the
04.35 from Chandri
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Author:
Neville (
Offline) - Published: June 11th, 2019 03:18
- Comment from author about the poem: it happened .. in the blink of an eye
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
- Users favorite of this poem: Fay Slimm., MendedFences27
Offline)
Comments6
Your talent for weaving surprise into stories is second to none my friend - a better description of birds and victims would be hard to find. Must save this haunt of a write.
Thank you dear Fay.. this was the only event that detracted from what would otherwise have been a perfect journey and although I doubt it made the local news, it had a significant impact on me ..... Yours most gratefully...
Neville
Poor train driver. Traumatised for life. And SHE has fallen asleep in the arms of her next unsuspecting conquest.
It's a porter's life in many ways. Quietly sampling the baggage of life for small reward but rich in his ability to move between cases.
absolutely... who knows how many times this happens , only to be forgot, repressed and repeated... thank you for taking time to consider these words DA...
Wow! - To have seen this must have been a horror. What a great expressional mix of death and crows. Must all horrific events be attended by crows? Loved the way you kept to a surprise ending. it was a pleasant setting...until. Great bit of writing. - Phil A.
told as was Phil, crows an all..... thanks for checking in.... Neville
I was truly drawn in and felt the impact - great work Neville
thank you again Michael... much appreciated sir.....
Our pain is the same as that of other species on a loss of one of their own kind.
When the loss occurs frequently, the pain becomes short lived.
I used to loathe the scavengers till I realized what a critical part they play.
Your poem moves one from dispicable, to survival to tragedy in a seemless event - truly captivating
you just made my evening.... cheers
What a dreadful thing to witness it must be so hard to come to terms with witnessing this.
I do have much fonder recollections my friend.... thank you for your understanding.... Neville
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