Crow

[Rob MacKillop]

“Black was the without eye
Black the within tongue
Black was the heart
Black the liver, black the lungs
Unable to suck in light
Black the blood in its loud tunnel
Black the bowels packed in furnace
Black too the muscles
Striving to pull out into the light
Black the nerves, black the brain
With its tombed visions
Black also the soul, the huge stammer
Of the cry that, swelling, could not
Pronounce its sun.”

― Ted Hughes, Crow: From the Life and Songs of the Crow


















This crow instantly reminded me of Ted Hughes' magnificent if difficult poem. We walk by the crows rookery (last image) most days. There is nothing like the cragged squawk of a crow protecting its nest, cutting the air like a black knife.

Q2M and yellow filter.

 

[Pete Askew]

Excellent stuff, Rob and nice idea to set the poem against the images. Strangely today my Amazon recommendation was the collected works of Ted Hughes!

I think my favourite of the set is the second. It looks more of a guardian of the path in that.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Yes, it does, I agree. But with the first I was imagining you (dear reader) scrolling down the page, then seeing the crow. I like the trees in the first too. But, yes, definitely more on guard in the second.

 

[Pete Askew]

Yes, it works well in that way. I enjoyed re-reading the poem too.

 

[Dave Farnes]

A fine set, that go with the poem very well. The way the crow perches amongst the wonderful tangle of branches reminds me of a spider in its web.

 

[Rob MacKillop]

Indeed! Good analogy. He's in his domain, while I wasn't in mine. But I don't want to be called out for being sexist: it might be a she, or even a they.