Saturday, 4 July 2015

Crows flew overhead

Crows flew overhead
Cawing for all they were worth
I push the quilt off

My head is splintered
Tea, pills for head, heart and throat
Even my bones ache

I crawled out of bed
I will open the curtains
Perhaps just a crack

I've no grain of will
As I dream of escaping
For I've feet of clay

My life has collapsed
This winter of discontent
For you have left me

The birds are singing
Get up they say, it's fine out
Might give it a whirl

Image found at


  1. Brilliant, specially the last lione!

  2. When all seems lost and broken a peak through the curtains is often a reminder to maybe give it another whirl...crows are harbingers of gloom - can we swap them for some robins...

  3. What a beautiful poem with a perfect ending.

  4. I really like that last line. Perhaps Brenda has cawed us all into peeking through that curtain and finding the sunlight,


  5. This piece moves from despair to hope. The crow is stirring us all!

  6. Winter is always a time of despair especially if one is alone. Excellent use of the words.

  7. You've painted a clear picture of the depression that follows loss--and how well the wordle lent itself to that.

  8. excellent! I like how you've put the words together, here.

  9. Oh such heaviness is the quilt of sadness. Bring that quilt out doors on a sunny day, it may reward you. Thank you for stopping by my place.

  10. You gave it a whirl, all right, and what a whirl it is!

    Whirling with Marge