You can taste the fear and smell the sweat and the noise of the wails burns your ears and yet
The sight of the Red Lemming’s annual jump, is something that you will never forget.
The fear and loathing are strong enough to taste , and blood flowed crimson in the sea below.
One by one they jumped to their death. Every now and then one would miraculously turned into Crow.
Death was relaxing on the sea shore , warming his bones in the moon’s pale light
His ghastly death mask fixed in a maniacal grin as he counted the bones and begrudging the escapees who became crows and took flight!
willowdot21 
Oct 24, 2013 @ 21:44:41
Very intriguing and captivating!!!
Oct 25, 2013 @ 11:36:01
It just keep on wanting to be written! xx
Oct 24, 2013 @ 23:32:54
This is beautiful. Words, pictures…
Oct 25, 2013 @ 11:36:19
Thank you Johnny.
Oct 25, 2013 @ 03:13:12
Wow, interesting choice of images for this poem, willow.
There is something wonderful yet very disturbing about the young women in the red dresses ‘jumping’.
Who gets to be a Crow? Why?
Hmm. I like this dark little piece of poetry.
Oct 25, 2013 @ 11:39:07
Those who never knowingly caused pain to others became crows … not many but some did, this always makes death happy, poor cap he is so misunderstood and his other title The Grim Reaper only serves to bring in bad publicity! 😉 xx
Oct 25, 2013 @ 07:28:07
superb 🙂
Oct 25, 2013 @ 11:39:51
why thank you marm!!:)
Oct 26, 2013 @ 13:23:40
beautifully done.
Oct 26, 2013 @ 17:06:26
Thank you !