Song of the Crow

When it comes to writing, poetry is not my strong point, but I felt the need to post the following piece. As a forewarning I did not make any serious attempt at format as the only poetry I have written before has been haiku. As an additional warning the word choice in this piece is euphemistic, for a reason I will explain after the piece.

Title: Song of the Crow

Here I am, the crow.
My wings are wide and shimmer in the light of the Moon.
No object has ever obstructed my path;
just a flap of my wings and everything is distant below me.
I spot a herd of sheep,
and swoop down to take a look.
The sheep say “baa,”
but I don’t understand their words.
I flap my wings as if to perform a dance,
and the sheep flee from me, “baaing” as they go.
Latter I settle down near a bonfire,
eating a fresh piece of fruit.
My hunger is eternal,
every byte I take makes me more hungry.
As my own hunger devours me,
I search for more food.
I smell the sent of pastries nearby.
I approach and see a pretty girl,
in a crimson dress, with gold hair.
She is taking delight of the taste of chocolate.
“Mr. Crow, wont you have some chocolate with me?”
My hunger forbids me to deny her,
and I eat as though I have never done so.
The sustenance is too late for me,
I collapse, and fall to the ground.
I awaken to find myself in a silver cage,
It’s bars shine like the Moon.
I flap my wings,
but one no longer shimmers.
A cage like this is not good enough to hold me,
and I escape, even if with only one wing.
My escape from the cage is not unnoticed.
“Play a game of tag with me”
That silly girl smiles at me,
her grin outshines the Moon.
I fly out the window.
She tags me on the wing,
the shimmering light of the Moon shatters,
and I fall to the ground once more.
I hop around the ground,
we play her game of tag.
As we run around I glimpse the shimmer of the moon,
I return this simmer to my wing,
but another tag from the girl shatters it,
it’s pieces dance and fall around us like snow.
The insignificant now appears monolithic.
As I grow weary I fear the next tag may be the end of the game.
She sees my exhaustion,
and returns me to the silver cage.
Her laughter indicates her enjoyment.
“I only get to talk to dolls here, Mr. Crow,”
“So can you teach me a song before you sleep?”
I know only one song,
I sing the song of the crow.

Note that the last four words are also the title. This was not intentional, but accidental. I wrote the title first before writing the body of the poem. It just worked out that way.

The reason why I wrote this poem was because I was listening to the song Sweets Time Midnight for far too long. I wanted to write something using the same type of word choice as in that song. Now to clarify the meaning of the above text I will translate some of the words used. The crow character is meant to represent a young vampire struggling with an unusually strong hunger for blood. This character may be viewed as wearing black clothing, and wielding two bladed weapons. This character is a particularly talented twinblader and has an invincibility complex. This invincibility complex is replaced with an unfamiliar anxiety when “Mr. Crow’s” weapons are lost. The shimmering Moon light on the crow’s wings is meant to represent the twinblader’s weapons. The sheep are humans. The fruit and sweets are human flesh. The pretty girl is based on Flandre Scarlet. The silver cage is a room with mounds of human skeletons. The game of tag is a fight for freedom. The word “dolls” was used in Sweets Time Midnight to represent human corpses. Songs are screams.

Another parallel between Sweets Time Midnight and Song of the Crow is that both speak of a bird. Sweets Time Midnight features a bluebird. The bluebird is presumably a human and meets its end by the hand of the Scarlet Devil. Our crow here is vampire and quite talented at his choice of weapon, but is still quite young and doomed to face the same fate as the bluebird.

Now with the meaning of the words of the poem explained you should now reread the poem. The poem should now give much different visual information, telling a much darker tail. If so then this experiment has been a success. If not, feel free to tell me it sucks. You would not hurt my feelings. Even with my own artistic ability for word choice I wasn’t quite able to tell the story the way I wanted with all the detail I wanted without giving too much detail about what was actually happening.

Despite not being 100% happy with how the poem turned out, this experiment does lend itself as a tool to be used in future writing. I’m not sure if I will be writing poetry like this in the future, but I may use the same kind of euphemistic speaking for the dialog for some mad man in any narrative I might write in the future.

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~ by lunaticexperimentalist on April 7, 2011.

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