there are large crows on my street.
they sit on garbage cans and on the hedges.
and they sort of remind me of my cat; big misunderstood fatties who are just looking for food. odd little voices that make squawky sounds. you gotta love em, really. they’re just crows.
one day they was a black crow who ate a worm. that worm was me. so there he is, putting me slowly into his mouth while i scream for him to stop. “Stooppppp!” i yell at him. he stops and laughes.
“No little crow. i will not” and with that he gobbled me up.
an animal that depicts a morbid image. Often associated with death, but they are quite beautiful in their own ghastly, cruel way. Black like the night, but a symbol of many things. A dark comfort.
i looked out the window absentmindedly, and jumped in surprise. dozens and dozens of crows littered the yard. tiny black dots covered the greenery. i craned my neck cautiously towards the sky
Looking straight ahead, my peripheral vision won’t fail me. When I see that nosy black bastard spindling down from the sky like a drunken midget, I want to vomit. There are surely others where he is found. Hundreds maybe. And they’ve all come for one thing–your soul.
So i was walking down the street and a man came up to me. He looked right into my eyes and suddenly squat onto the ground. He got back up and there was a huge egg on the ground. I asked him what it was, and he said nothing, just chirped. I took it to the zoo, and the zoologist remarked “That’s a giant crow egg.”
A dark bird flew over the moon. I could hear its croaks and it scared me. With its ghostly figure and the nights’s chill, it reminded me of you. But you are a ghost now, and I had the feeling you sent the crow to me, to make sure that I will never forget you. A feather from the crow flies softly through the air.
I lay back in the cool fading green grass as twilight dawned. There were a few thin clouds on the horizon and above them, the first few faint stars began to peek out. I looked to the lone ash tree I lay against. An ivory messenger of death broke the day’s peaceful aura; I bolted down the hill to hide and wait. My time hasn’t come yet. It couldn’t have.
The crow sat and watched. He waited. blood on his beak and pain in his eyes. He streched he soared. he took with him everything i was. everything i am. it wasn’t disaster or the end, it was simply design. it was my design.
crow tries a word but it sticks in his throat and makes a gutteral noise. It isn’t “nevermore” and no one really cares, anyway. Crow decides it’s going to play in the snow next winter and try not to eat too much like it did the last time. It was hard to fly. Flying shouldn’t be so hard. Crow threw up.
They had o stop crowing over my head! It was irritating to say the least.. breathe in.. breathe out.. I know.. cant let them get to me! sigh.. I must stop, and be detached enough to do my work…
crow’s feet. yea getting older, getting older and older without any control. feel wide and feel small, it’s okay to feel this way. some fly some soar. black rapping on the door. on the door.
There was a crow on top of his house. The thing cocked its head and regarded Jeremy as he walked down the meticulously paved driveway. It didn’t seem bothered by the the disgust filled look the boy sent its way.
Black crows everywhere. Menacing glances our way. They scare me so much! Eating everything and taunting more than just the scarecrows.
Not afraid…plenty of them overtaking.
I hear it in the morning
I’m trying to sleep…why won’t it stop?
Isn’t there food to find elsewhere?
There is no rest for me…
an no food elswhere for the crow…
Aahhh..now my car is being hit…
I think it knew my thoughts
To [Leonard], the idiot: Crows do not hop most of the time. House Sparrows and the like do. You’re the pitiful excuse for evolution, “my friend”. Crows are graceful of foot and flight when they are compared to many birds, and are among the most intelligent creatures of Earth. For you to care so much about whether or not a bird hops, and to mis-generalize, is most foolish. Associating them with death means that you are a typical, retard of a pawn of the mass entertainment media. Movies, Fictional works like Poe and video games in general are not reliable sources to make judgements about real things. You lie alot most likely and media that targets people like you, WILL often hyperbolize a.k.a. lie.
is similar to a raven. Which reminds me for some reason of Edgar Allen Poe. (Weird I know.) You know, he was a really good poet. WHat is your favorite work he did?
crows are big scary black birds that tend to hang around when people die. i don’t know this for a fact. i do know that they seem to hang around more around halloween. they make a noise that isn’t very pleasant. they have feathers. they probably eat a lot of french fries. “the crows seem to be calling my name today, thought caw”
crow, grow, woh, go,
blah blah blah
how the eff am i to write about a crow?
the crow who sat on a poe
who made a soe
to do a bow
man.. i need sleep
HURRY CHICKEN HURRY!
going once
going twice
SOLD!
to the bar that turned red.
i found a dead crow, lying in the field. I wondered what I should do with the crow. It seemed to be lonely, laying there lifeless. im not too sure if I want to watch the crow decay.
In a world where only darkness find its path, a crow flies without fail. Dark or light, night or day, whatever you’d like to call it, it’s path has no end. For the crow is like the ocean, ebbing and flowing in currents of the wind. Where are you flying? Why are you flying? Because you can. And to where you are always going. Home.
Well, as he flies. I wish I could. Sore (?). I wish I could have that majestic freedom. Maybe that’s why we think Mr. Crow is so ugly, we’re just jelous of what he can do. I wish I could be there, with you. Always.
crowing sabout accomplishments drives me nuts. people who brag about their incessant goals and stuff drive me up the wall. i hate it, i really do. sometimes makes me wonder how much I do it myself. A lot of people say you hate what you do the most,,so
The black thing. Vile almost. You spread food out in the yard and you expect birds of beauty. Instead, birds of darkness land, consuming the food greedily, hungrily, ravenously. The vile things.
A large crow with shiny black feathers drifted onto the telephone wire outside of my bedroom window. I closed the midnight blue shades and sat back as I thought of my dream of wanting to fly. My thoughts drifted as I saw myself soaring over the smog covered city I called home. Over shiny multi-windowed buildings that gleamed in the sunlight.
Black, dark, deathly. The herald of all bad omens, it swoops down and alights gently, swiveling it’s all too intelligent eyes in your direction. Your time has come.
Crows. She never liked them, always seeing them in the distance. Usually got the vague vibe of death and decay.
When she looked at the picture frame at her bedside, she heard that familiar crow and the door opened and shadow in the doorway made her cry. She was already dead inside, it seemed.
the crow looks down on me from the top of the metal fence. darkness surrounds every inch of myself and everything around me in the night. where has time gone? where have my friends gone? I keep searching for my beloved and realize that I myself am like the crow. Alone
Be sure to bring the hot sauce and lots of napkins when you have to eat crow. They are tough and messy.
there are large crows on my street.
they sit on garbage cans and on the hedges.
and they sort of remind me of my cat; big misunderstood fatties who are just looking for food. odd little voices that make squawky sounds. you gotta love em, really. they’re just crows.
one day they was a black crow who ate a worm. that worm was me. so there he is, putting me slowly into his mouth while i scream for him to stop. “Stooppppp!” i yell at him. he stops and laughes.
“No little crow. i will not” and with that he gobbled me up.
ugly fat man with your black starched and pressed suit and the nose that hooks out and droops over the upper lip…..
an animal that depicts a morbid image. Often associated with death, but they are quite beautiful in their own ghastly, cruel way. Black like the night, but a symbol of many things. A dark comfort.
I like to eat it. It makes my tummy feel sooo good. It makes me smile from ear to ear. I like to eat crow.
i looked out the window absentmindedly, and jumped in surprise. dozens and dozens of crows littered the yard. tiny black dots covered the greenery. i craned my neck cautiously towards the sky
crow, a black bird that is mysterious. cry through out the night, dark as the world it is engulfed in. fly black bird fly.
Looking straight ahead, my peripheral vision won’t fail me. When I see that nosy black bastard spindling down from the sky like a drunken midget, I want to vomit. There are surely others where he is found. Hundreds maybe. And they’ve all come for one thing–your soul.
So i was walking down the street and a man came up to me. He looked right into my eyes and suddenly squat onto the ground. He got back up and there was a huge egg on the ground. I asked him what it was, and he said nothing, just chirped. I took it to the zoo, and the zoologist remarked “That’s a giant crow egg.”
The crow landed with a soft thud on the dirty ground. Its wings were ruffled and crooked.
A dark bird flew over the moon. I could hear its croaks and it scared me. With its ghostly figure and the nights’s chill, it reminded me of you. But you are a ghost now, and I had the feeling you sent the crow to me, to make sure that I will never forget you. A feather from the crow flies softly through the air.
I lay back in the cool fading green grass as twilight dawned. There were a few thin clouds on the horizon and above them, the first few faint stars began to peek out. I looked to the lone ash tree I lay against. An ivory messenger of death broke the day’s peaceful aura; I bolted down the hill to hide and wait. My time hasn’t come yet. It couldn’t have.
The crow sat and watched. He waited. blood on his beak and pain in his eyes. He streched he soared. he took with him everything i was. everything i am. it wasn’t disaster or the end, it was simply design. it was my design.
crow tries a word but it sticks in his throat and makes a gutteral noise. It isn’t “nevermore” and no one really cares, anyway. Crow decides it’s going to play in the snow next winter and try not to eat too much like it did the last time. It was hard to fly. Flying shouldn’t be so hard. Crow threw up.
They had o stop crowing over my head! It was irritating to say the least.. breathe in.. breathe out.. I know.. cant let them get to me! sigh.. I must stop, and be detached enough to do my work…
crow’s feet. yea getting older, getting older and older without any control. feel wide and feel small, it’s okay to feel this way. some fly some soar. black rapping on the door. on the door.
black mean scary death bird fly threatening killer awful deadly dead eyes
As if flies it sees with wide eyes all there is to hide in the open wide skies of snide
There was a crow on top of his house. The thing cocked its head and regarded Jeremy as he walked down the meticulously paved driveway. It didn’t seem bothered by the the disgust filled look the boy sent its way.
Black crows everywhere. Menacing glances our way. They scare me so much! Eating everything and taunting more than just the scarecrows.
Not afraid…plenty of them overtaking.
I hear it in the morning
I’m trying to sleep…why won’t it stop?
Isn’t there food to find elsewhere?
There is no rest for me…
an no food elswhere for the crow…
Aahhh..now my car is being hit…
I think it knew my thoughts
To [Leonard], the idiot: Crows do not hop most of the time. House Sparrows and the like do. You’re the pitiful excuse for evolution, “my friend”. Crows are graceful of foot and flight when they are compared to many birds, and are among the most intelligent creatures of Earth. For you to care so much about whether or not a bird hops, and to mis-generalize, is most foolish. Associating them with death means that you are a typical, retard of a pawn of the mass entertainment media. Movies, Fictional works like Poe and video games in general are not reliable sources to make judgements about real things. You lie alot most likely and media that targets people like you, WILL often hyperbolize a.k.a. lie.
A most excellent corvid. Social; intelligent; resourceful; toolmakers. I love crows!
A crow is a nasty bird. It visits the city when the sun rises hunting for garbage to scavenge. The fly in flocks and dim the sky. They are noisy too.
is similar to a raven. Which reminds me for some reason of Edgar Allen Poe. (Weird I know.) You know, he was a really good poet. WHat is your favorite work he did?
crows are big scary black birds that tend to hang around when people die. i don’t know this for a fact. i do know that they seem to hang around more around halloween. they make a noise that isn’t very pleasant. they have feathers. they probably eat a lot of french fries. “the crows seem to be calling my name today, thought caw”
crow, grow, woh, go,
blah blah blah
how the eff am i to write about a crow?
the crow who sat on a poe
who made a soe
to do a bow
man.. i need sleep
HURRY CHICKEN HURRY!
going once
going twice
SOLD!
to the bar that turned red.
i found a dead crow, lying in the field. I wondered what I should do with the crow. It seemed to be lonely, laying there lifeless. im not too sure if I want to watch the crow decay.
In a world where only darkness find its path, a crow flies without fail. Dark or light, night or day, whatever you’d like to call it, it’s path has no end. For the crow is like the ocean, ebbing and flowing in currents of the wind. Where are you flying? Why are you flying? Because you can. And to where you are always going. Home.
the crow spent hours circling. the field was dry and brittle and the crow broke stalks as it landed. Its wings a black mess of feathers and ligaments.
death, raven, hawk, bird, phoenix, dragon, fire, flame, tongue, scales, wings, hands, feet, body, human, bunny, kitten, cat, dog, animation, television shows, funny, horror, movies, scary,
Well, as he flies. I wish I could. Sore (?). I wish I could have that majestic freedom. Maybe that’s why we think Mr. Crow is so ugly, we’re just jelous of what he can do. I wish I could be there, with you. Always.
crowing sabout accomplishments drives me nuts. people who brag about their incessant goals and stuff drive me up the wall. i hate it, i really do. sometimes makes me wonder how much I do it myself. A lot of people say you hate what you do the most,,so
my boss is a horrid old crow of a being. she caws an caws, always screaming but never saying a thing.
The black thing. Vile almost. You spread food out in the yard and you expect birds of beauty. Instead, birds of darkness land, consuming the food greedily, hungrily, ravenously. The vile things.
A large crow with shiny black feathers drifted onto the telephone wire outside of my bedroom window. I closed the midnight blue shades and sat back as I thought of my dream of wanting to fly. My thoughts drifted as I saw myself soaring over the smog covered city I called home. Over shiny multi-windowed buildings that gleamed in the sunlight.
Black, dark, deathly. The herald of all bad omens, it swoops down and alights gently, swiveling it’s all too intelligent eyes in your direction. Your time has come.
Crows. She never liked them, always seeing them in the distance. Usually got the vague vibe of death and decay.
When she looked at the picture frame at her bedside, she heard that familiar crow and the door opened and shadow in the doorway made her cry. She was already dead inside, it seemed.
the crow looks down on me from the top of the metal fence. darkness surrounds every inch of myself and everything around me in the night. where has time gone? where have my friends gone? I keep searching for my beloved and realize that I myself am like the crow. Alone