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I've been very interested in all of the tales, superstition and mythology surrounding the Raven. Has anyone some good snippets to share?

When the Cherokee went on the warpath, they used four spies. Each one wore a different skin around his neck. One wore a Raven skin. They would signal the warriors by making the animal sound of the skin they wore.
"The Raven"-a Cherokee war title. Perhaps this is what they called the one wearing the Raven skin around his neck.

I was looking on Yahoo, because the theme kept niggling the back of my mind and found two poems.
[color:"purple"] Raven Omen
One raven bad news
Two ravens mirth
Three ravens a wedding
Four raven a birth
Five ravens for riches
Six ravens a thief
Seven ravens a journey
Eight ravens for grief
Nine ravens a secret
Ten ravens for laughter
Eleven ravens for love
Twelve ravens good day after
~anonymous [/color]

this was from the website www.nineravens.com
and

[color:"purple"] A Gathering of Crows
One crow for sorrow,
Two crows for joy,
Three crows for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five crows for silver,
Six crows for gold,
Seven crows for a secret never to be told [/color]

this was from the site: http://www.geocities.com/Athens/9884/crow.html
This one had a lot of different stories about ravens and crows on their site, everything from Norse to Native American mythology.

Thanks Firefly, this is new territory for me...I will look into it a bit more!

Thanks for looking it up Musicalmom.
We have a very similar traditional verse in the UK, but instead of ravens or crows the bird concerned is a magpie. All the same family though! Many people here will still recite:

[color:"purple"] One for sorrow
Two for joy
Three for a girl
Four for a boy [/color]

when they see magpies. I'm certainly always pretty keen to see a second magpie quickly if I've seen one alone- but I'm probably being daft <img src="/images/graemlins/rolleyes.gif" alt="" />

I've been thinking about this '1 for this and 2 for that' montage. The result for the even numberrs are something someone would desire over the other (in the short versions atleast)...not that a girl is a bad thing, just in antiquated society a boy was better. Point of my rambling is that crows mate for life and almost always seen in pairs. Specifically in the spring when they are hunting for a good nesting spot. That lone crow on the side of the road probably isnt too far from mate and young in a nest awaiting their return.

Just a thought x0x

The raven\crow has also been know as a trickster ... Like Loki ... I have a pair that are always telling me when they are hungry ... They like cracked corn ... The female has a bum foot ... At least I think it is a female ... Just my impressions ... They like to talk to me and hide just beyond the peak of the neighboring roof ... Then look over at me as I put out some goodies for them ...

They are VERY intelligent birds- hope it rubs off on me <img src="/images/graemlins/wink.gif" alt="" />

Thanks Firefly for mailing me privately with the more sinister beliefs about the Raven. They have long had a darker reputation because they will feed on carrion (don't want that habit to rub off thank you!).

They would gather around battlefields & feast on the fallen which gave them a bad rep! I just think they are part of Mother Nature's amazing balancing act- but yes it must have looked gory & to some 'evil'.

The Voice of the Raven

I am the Voice of the Raven Upon Wind.
My harsh cries echo long upon the Earth and Air:
Nothing is Forever, Not Life,
not Love,
not Death,
nor Loss.
Only change is eternal,
and only destruction
can the seed of creation form.

My wings bear me between
Darkness and Light,
Land and Sky,
the Garden and
the Wildwood.

I perch upon the Threshold
of the Worlds,
both flesh and spirit,
gifting the Brave Seeker
with Visions and Magick of the Otherworld.

To face me
is to face your greatest terror,
the Shadow of yourself,
the unknown and dangerous.
In chancing destruction,
your fear loses it's power to destroy.
For only in acceptance
of Mortality will you learn the ...
Secrets of Immortality as I,
the Raven,
possess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
author unknown
----------------------------------------------------

My totem animal is the Raven. I made a page dedicated to the raven maybe it will help..... http://ravensilverwing.tripod.com/ravens.html


Jeanette

The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe

First Published in 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

Jeanette and Phyllis

Thank you both for the poems. I had not come across "The Voice Of The Raven" before - beautiful poem Jeanette.

Raven is a character in Marion Zimmer Bradley's "The Mists Of Avalon" - a book which retells the Arthurian legends from a feminine/feminist(?) perspective. Raven is a priestess who has taken a vow of silence.