I shut my beak,
I don't ever speak,
I walk around this great fortress of London, the Tower,
I am on parade in it's grounds from hour to hour.
I have lived to see many stories and tales unfold before my eyes,
The Tower has been a hotbed of intrigue, corruption, power and lies.
I'd love to fly somewhere exotic,
I may be a raven but I'm not despotic.
My wings are clipped, if I left the Tower will crumble and fall.
It may not seem with my life that I am having a ball.
The Tower however is my home,
Around its grounds I roam.
Long live the Tower of London, a fortress of history,
Come see me the Raven - my longevity here is a mystery.
- Author: FineBul (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: December 5th, 2017 14:44
- Comment from author about the poem: I was inspired to write this poem by the Tower of London and it's oldest inhabitants, the Ravens. The wings of the ravens at the Tower are clipped so that they cannot fly away.If the ravens flew away the Tower according to legend will crumble and fall. . The Tower of London is my favourite historical building.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
Comments1
This takes me right back to the early 60s when I was involved in the design and construction of the CTBowring building right next to the Tower - great write and thanks for the memory.
Hi Michael,
Thanks.
Glad you enjoyed this poem
Keep writing
FineB
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