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The Three Crows of Chaos, Death and Rebirth

Updated on July 30, 2017
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Charmaine is a poet and freelance writer who offers a intuitive tarot reading service. She loves Thai food; new words; and love letters.

A lowly svelte grey horizon. The Crow stands by.
A lowly svelte grey horizon. The Crow stands by. | Source
The Judge of one's Fate...
The Judge of one's Fate... | Source

The Three Crows of Chaos, Death and Rebirth

A lowly svelte grey horizon

hangs uneasy, still and encompassing.

One’s vision silenced,

and nuzzled into the bleakness.

Three Crows circle above,

black plumage shadowing the clouds.

All sit in judgement over one’s fate behoved,

it is time to be set upon by others.

The winds of nature howl their war cry,

Goddess Morrigan graces the surrounds.

Whispers and snippets, are highly sly,

of chaos, death and rebirth

Searing pain screams from the heart of diminishing returns.
Searing pain screams from the heart of diminishing returns. | Source

Eight swords stab the rubbery ground,

erect, stiff and imprisoning.

Holding captive, the barren land around,

while arms and hands are strapped back.

The silky silence bears arms,

cannot pull out the sword to swipe.

Searing pain pierces the heart of diminishing returns,

as they access and torment ones’ soul speak.

The moonlight snaps her condemnation

of harmony and alignment of the string.

Self, bursts through the keyhole basin,

of the bridge pier, to enter into the merchant’s steer.

Gasping flesh decaying
Gasping flesh decaying | Source

The double dealing, banging out their vile whispers,

swelling upheavals upon upheavals.

Manifesting scalding confusions and twisters,

bittering and rotting ties.

Oppositions appear where there is none to be had,

strife is rife.

Swords catapulted into the back pad,

gouging, leaving gasping pulpy flesh.

Softness and tenderness

ridden through to form drip strips.

Existential space rendered null,

so that, all that is, is knifed by cunning roamers.

Gold dust...smooth talk trickling down
Gold dust...smooth talk trickling down | Source

Farmers of the land

now reap the harvest.

Gold dust lacing their standing,

smooth talk now trickles down.

Enfeeble and enervate,

Coerce and make cower into a puddle of scare.

The knives and icy arrows concrete,

the air like an air-born galactic javelin.

Hands cannot fend off the stabbing staves,

only one can brace their heart and mind.

Reflecting the shield, Call of the Blessed, from the cave.

Now, fly away with Temperance.

The cage swinging back and forth...
The cage swinging back and forth... | Source

The nearby cage, swings back and forth,

singing the song that is riddled with doubt.

Hesitation leaves a trail of lemons at port.

Swoop, stand and make tracks, now.

Clap hands, crunch gravel,

sing, stomp and bump.

Laugh, drink and eat with marvel.

Revitalize and rejoice.

Fly past pain and disillusionments.

Cast black in the letter of red,

Switch topsy turvy for artsy-versy dents.

Cups are now waterfalling.

The Chariot offers a Chance, an Opportunity
The Chariot offers a Chance, an Opportunity | Source

It’s time to look up.

The Hand of Opportunity,

Chariots a chance, sharp.

Bright, buoyant and canty.

The red door is now flung open,

love and trust cemented.

Carriers of woe are now coping,

pleasure and cheer has landed.

Pleasure and cheer....
Pleasure and cheer.... | Source

Red is the colour of rebirth, of the begining. Is red the colour of

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© 2017 Threekeys


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    • profile image

      threekeys 3 months ago

      With the crows nearby and a grey wet weathered day, my creativity took me off thinking about how the cycles of change can be bitter sweet. With the excitement of new beginnings we have to say goodbye to what was. Dying that personal death emotionally-utthe crows. Thankyou Cathetine for coming over to read my poem. All the best to you and your loved ones.

    • CatherineGiordano profile image

      Catherine Giordano 3 months ago from Orlando Florida

      Crows have long been a symbol of death. I took your poem as a reminder to enjoy life. The pictures you choose were great illustrations for your words.

    • threekeys profile image

      Threekeys 3 months ago from Australia

      We had a stormy weathered day here and that caught my imagination. Hence, the three crows.

    • Mark Tulin profile image

      Mark Tulin 3 months ago from Santa Barbara, California

      Love the dark imagery and the play on words. I like ravens almost as much as the crows.