The New Raven
A raven should fall to wood,
It's talons scraping crusty bark,
Instead it taps the steel hood
Of a car in the dark.
Where it's feather should fall to grass,
Sleeping in blades of green,
Instead it meets tar harsh
To go alone and unseen.
It's eye dark in the night
Reflects a shine from a light,
It should hide such a sight,
Or fall forever in it's plight.
It sits low in the dim,
Forever waiting just for him
No weight under limb,
Keep alive the starving kin.
The Wooden Army
The King sleep always sneering,
The Queen places hands endearing,
The Knight rides loudly cheering,
The Bishop paces slightly leering,
The Castle's walls hide the clearing,
The Pawn holds his head in fearing.
The Player holds his Kingdom together,
Saves the damsel,
And lives forever.