“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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
