Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

My Cursed Raven

by Karl Griffiths

This raven perched upon my brain,
Sitting, picking yet again,
That does enough to spoil my day,
That does all to push me insane.
It renders hope to be futile,
Although I’m wandering,
All the while it takes my smile,
And tears it mild.
This raven perched, always in my sight,
Sitting, picking just for spite,
Its purple plume covering my eyes,
That I shoo to make it fly,
Fly away in the nightly sky.
Not seen again even by the moon,
Camouflaged by its blackened plume.
I be rid of you,
Yesterday was soon.
This raven perched upon my head,
Sitting, picking at the dead,
That does to spoil all my days,
And leaves my eyes filled with a crimsoned haze.

Added: 01.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem


This poem affected me. Taken literally or ambiguously, I am filled with empathetic emotions. Well communicated.