Posted in Short thoughts

A murder

Call it what you will
it’s not a murder
crows congregate in funereal black
some attack or mob their own
for reasons of their own
maybe they mourn or is it morbid curiosity
these gatherings for dead companions?
– but now it’s Spring and corvids collect
ink spotting thin and wiry treetops
a caw calling cacophony along flight paths
above untidy twig snapped constructs
a branched whetstone for silver polished armoury
the featured gleam in brightest bombazine

Call it what you will though
it’s not murderous
crows thirst for red rivers
sail sanguine seas
reconnoitre for carrion
road kill or rubbish dumps
shelled streets and forgotten wastelands
it’s all the same meat different graves
on barbed wire they roost where tatters hang
after the mine’s supersonic bang

a blinding word-torn euphemism
terrorism
death by politics
honour killings
call it what you will though
this is murder

22.3.17. at Westminster those injured included 12 Britons, three French children, two Romanians, four South Koreans, two Greeks, and one each from Germany, Poland, Ireland, China, Italy and the United States =international terrorism?

Note
A gathering of crows called a ‘murder’ from Middle English collective noun  ‘murther’

A terrible Wednesday in London poem for the Imaginary Garden’s  Tuesday Platform And dVerse open link night

Advertisements

Author:

one blog for playing with photography @ eljaygee and the other with a weakness for words @ Tell Tale Therapy

18 thoughts on “A murder

  1. The analogy of the London tragedy and a crow funeral is inspired. There is a tradition of a crow funeral some have seen. It is said many arrive with great cacophony and suddenly all silence at the same time for a brief period of time; then, as if a clarion call, all take wing and fly, having paid tribute to the lost. Your words are eloquent.

  2. sometimes I don’t want to read the news, but if I don’t then these lives go unnoticed, its a painful struggle from my own comfort and safety. your words are very moving.

  3. How very apt! I thought the poem had ended until the end appeared. And I do have an appreciation for “untidy twig snapped constructs”

Comments are closed.