The only difference between a pigeon and the American farmer today is that a pigeon can still make a deposit on a John Deere.
quote by Jim Hightower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Pigeon
Tony just brought
a pigeon
in his house
put it in a cage and
feed it
some grains
beside a bowl of
water
Every night since then
i cannot sleep
hearing always the sound
of a sobbing woman
grieving
i keep telling myself
that it is just
a pigeon temporarily
adopting to a momentary loss
of her freedom
Horrible nights
lots of horrible nights
the sounds of groaning griefs
are penetrating the walls of my mind
until one day
the pigeon died and Tony buried it
beside his house
now the pebbles are giving me
the silence of the dead
the air is so quiet
looking at an empty cage
somehow i feel guilty
not about the pigeon but about Tony
well, the story is quite long
what business do i have there?
last night i was thinking
what if it was Tony who died
and the pigeon went out of that cage
and buried him there
beside that lonely house?
shall i not hear the grieving sounds of
that pigeon again?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Confused Birds
Sometimes things happen the way you don't want them to,
There was a Pigeon and a Dove to guide the life through,
Together they ate, Together they flew,
The pigeon was ready to wait a life long,
But the Dove had a rough stance that you move on,
The Dove always wanted the Pigeon to be comfortable,
But always thrash think that she didn't deserve such awesome individual,
The matter was closely watched by a gardener,
He called them...
The Confused Birds.
poem by Vikrant Jog
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The Dilettante And The Critic
A BOY a pigeon once possess'd,
In gay and brilliant plumage dress'd;
He loved it well, and in boyish sport
Its food to take from his mouth he taught,
And in his pigeon he took such pride,
That his joy to others he needs must confide.
An aged fox near the place chanc'd to dwell,
Talkative, clever, and learned as well;
The boy his society used to prize,
Hearing with pleasure his wonders and lies.
"My friend the fox my pigeon must see
He ran, and stretch'd 'mongst the bushes lay he
"Look, fox, at my pigeon, my pigeon so fair!
His equal I'm sure thou hast look'd upon ne'er!"
"Let's see!"--The boy gave it.--"'Tis really not bad;
And yet, it is far from complete, I must add.
The feathers, for, instance, how short! 'Tis absurd!"
So he set to work straightway to pluck the poor bird.
The boy screamed.--"Thou must now stronger pinions supply,
Or else 'twill be ugly, unable to fly."--
Soon 'twas stripp'd--oh, the villain!--and torn all to pieces.
The boy was heart-broken,--and so my tale ceases.
He who sees in the boy shadow'd forth his own case,
Should be on his guard 'gainst the fox's whole race.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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After The Great Flood
after the great flood
it was the black crow which was first
allowed to fly,
Moses had confidence on its
aggression,
it did not come back you know that well,
it puked on dead flesh and
flew away
deciding on its own now
charting its own
destiny,
then it was the pigeon's turn to serve
coy and shy and yet obedient
it came back with a twig and a leaf
whether this is all symbolism or not
an interplay and contrast between black and white
crow and pigeon, good or evil
disobedience or impunity, i don't
go into a hairsplitting
or argument with you
but i have to admit, i like to be that black crow.
i never want to be the pigeon that you believe i am.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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John Doe On A John Deere
(john rich/don cook/conley white)
I drove a beat up tractor down a one lane road
Pick her up early and away wed go
Down to the river by the edge of her daddys farm
We used to lay in the shade of a cottonwood tree
Back of my mind I thought shed be
The one whod spend forever in my arms
She said theres gotta be more to life
I dont wanna be some farmers wife
Dont want a john doe on a john deere
Theres a whole lotta boys like you around here
I wanna hear love songs in my ear
Dont want a john doe on a john deere
Not a john doe on a john deere
Well she packed her things and left this town
And I kept working this rock hard ground
Wondering if she ever thought about me
Then she called collect from san antone
Just to hear some news from home
She laughed about how good things used to be
This big city aint good for me
Ill meet you down by the cottonwood tree
I need a john doe on a john deere
There aint a lotta boys like you around here
I wanna hear love songs in my ear
I need a john doe on a john deere
Want a john doe on a john deere
I need a john doe on a john deere
There aint a lotta boys like you around here
I wanna hear love songs in my ear
I need a john doe on a john deere
Want a john doe on a john deere
song performed by by Lonestar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleight of Hand
I put my handkerchief into your holey pocket
And take out a Pigeon,
Again I put the Pigeon into your pocket
And take out my handkerchief.
A middle aged woman with a singsong
Winked at me among the crowd at the roundabout
And it says willing to come with me.
What a real gimmick?
She took my fragile heart
Through the broken ribs
Without my knowledge.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Japanese lullaby
Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,--
Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes;
Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging--
Swinging the nest where her little one lies.
Away out yonder I see a star,--
Silvery star with a tinkling song;
To the soft dew falling I hear it calling--
Calling and tinkling the night along.
In through the window a moonbeam comes,--
Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;
All silently creeping, it asks, "Is he sleeping--
Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?"
Up from the sea there floats the sob
Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore,
As though they were groaning in anguish, and moaning--
Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more.
But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,--
Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes;
Am I not singing?--see, I am swinging--
Swinging the nest where my darling lies.
poem by Eugene Field
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Pigeons
There are many pigeons in the Cascais evening park and
see one I remember, the one that trips stylishly around
looking for crumbs, it looks at me, to see if I´m eating.
In May it was a baby on my terrace trying out its wings,
one day it succeeded and flew off.
A pigeon doesn’t remember its childhood, so it doesn’t
has the burden of remembering infancy, blames no one
when things go wrong. Two women come and sit on my
bench, talk about offspring who will not listen; pity they
have not understood, like a pigeon mother, to let go.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Pigeon's Plight
'(Craving from one place to another
For a false death with feathered life) '
Written in a paper-
A cushioned pigeon
Engrossed at my grimace ballad-
A dream finishing the final act to play-
The pigeon’s plight achieved the
Tensed past of beating waves...
“(Pigeons past, dream lasts
And the ballad still in turn....) ”
25/9/08
poem by Moushumi moushumi
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The Pedlar
FLY, fly, my pretty pigeon, fly!
And see if you can find him;
He has blue eyes--you'll know him by,--
He wears a pack behind him.
He's gone away--ah! many a mile
Because he could not please me,
And, oh! 'twill be a weary while
Ere next he comes to tease me.
He carries wares of every kind,
Fine ribbons, silks, and laces,
Bargains to rhyme with every mind,
And hues to suit all faces.
He has gold rings and pretty things
That other maids will throng for,
Ah, pigeon! spread your pretty wings,
And fly to him I long for.
Tell him to turn and come again,
For once I sent him packing;
He offered me a bargain then,
But wit and price were lacking.
I have the price he asked of me,
The wit that will not weigh it;
Ah! bid him come again and see
How gladly I will pay it.
A heart of gold he offered me
As 'twere a penny fairing,
And only asked a worthless fee,
This heavy heart I'm wearing.
I would not then--now long and drear
The white way winds behind him;
Ah! seek him, seek him, Pigeon dear,
But you will never find him!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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These Are Desperate Times For You, Aren't They?
If,
I were fed pigeon...
Would I then have pigeon vision?
If I were a duck,
After being plucked...
Would I then run out of luck?
And if I had an oink,
But a sheep I thought myself to be.
Would I want my pork chops fried...
Knowing a pig was meant to be my destiny.
And if I sneezed by a bee...
Will that bee that buzzed believe,
What I did was dumb...
To deserve a stinging,
Stung done that comes.
And if I had an oink,
But a sheep I thought myself to be...
Ooo ooo weeee.
Would that bee that did the stinging,
Wish it had hooves...
And,
Kicked me in the knee!
'These are desperate times for you,
Aren't they? '
Why do you say that?
'Your stimulus package,
Seems to lack stimuli.
And...
I am concerned for your well being.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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rooftop lovemaking
the male pigeon flaps
in full estacy
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Pigeon holes for M lady Anna Russel
Don’t put me in a pigeonhole
It is the last thing you should do.
You do not understand my role.
Take note of what I’m telling you.
There is nobody quite like me
I am unique I stand alone
I can act independently.
I’m like no one you have known
You are entitled to your view
but I’m afraid that’s limited
You know less than you think you do.
But be my guest and go ahead.
Believe what you want to believe
convince yourself you are correct.
It is yourself that you deceive.
That you will change I don’t expect.
You see the world in black and white,
you have a neat and tidy mind
This does not mean that you are right.
Some things just cannot be defined.
Forget your pigeon holes my friend
each human being is unique
Though unlike you I don’t pretend.
It is the real you that I seek.
I have no time for pigeon holes
I want to see behind the mask
we wear to play to play our public roles.
Maybe that is too much to ask.
1-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The pigeon here is a beautiful bird, of a delicate bronze colour, tinged with pink about the neck, and the wings marked with green and purple.
quote by William John Wills
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There once was a fellow from Tooting
Suspected of robbing and looting,
He was found with a gun
And was thought, 'on the run'
His excuse: 'I've been clay-pigeon shooting! '
(Written Sept 2012)
quote by by John Carter Brown
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The Pigeons Of St. Marks
Something's wrong in Pigeon-land;
'Tisn't as it used to be,
When the pilgrim, corn in hand,
Courted us with laughing glee;
When we crooned with pinions furled,
Tamest pigeons in the world.
When we packed each arm and shoulder,
Never deeming man a menace;
Surly birds were never bolder
Than our dainty doves of Venice:
Who would have believed a pigeon
Could become wild as a widgeon.
Well, juts blame it on the War,
When Venetians grew thinner,
And gaunt hands would grab us for
Succulence to serve a dinner . . .
How our numbers fast grew fewer,
As we perished on a skewer.
Pa and Mummie went like that,
So when tourist takes his stand,
On his Borsolino hat
Soft as whispered love I land;
Then with cooing liquid vowels
I . . . evacuate my bowls.
Something's wrong in Pigeon-land;
Mankind we no longer trust;
Shrinking from the tendered hand,
pick we corn from out the dust;
While on guileless pilgrim pate,
Thinking that revenge is sweet,
Soft I croon my hymn of hate,
Drop my tribute and retreat.
poem by Robert William Service
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The poem's flight
A poet, far from his beloved,
wrote a poem full of meaning
and, calling a carrier-pigeon from his loft,
sent it as a white dove to his beloved
It was a long flight
and by the time his beloved read the poem
under the lamplight in her room
its meaning had changed for her
with the course of time and the human heart
If the pigeon, midway on its flight,
had rested in our loft
to drink a little rain, eat a little grain,
and we had read the poem - would it have
any meaning for us?
Where does meaning go
when it is not here?
How does meaning change,
between a smile, a tear?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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From Four Saints in Three Acts
Pigeons on the grass alas.
Pigeons on the grass alas.
Short longer grass short longer longer shorter yellow grass. Pigeons
large pigeons on the shorter longer yellow grass alas pigeons on the
grass.
If they were not pigeons what were they.
If they were not pigeons on the grass alas what were they. He had
heard of a third and he asked about if it was a magpie in the sky.
If a magpie in the sky on the sky can not cry if the pigeon on the
grass alas can alas and to pass the pigeon on the grass alas and the
magpie in the sky on the sky and to try and to try alas on the
grass alas the pigeon on the grass the pigeon on the grass and alas.
They might be very well they might be very well very well they might
be.
Let Lucy Lily Lily Lucy Lucy let Lucy Lucy Lily Lily Lily Lily
Lily let Lily Lucy Lucy let Lily. Let Lucy Lily.
poem by Gertrude Stein
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She cries like a dove on the modern stainless steel bridge!
Pigeons and doves constitute the bird family Columbidae within the order Columbiformes, which include some 300 species of near passerines. In general terms 'dove' and 'pigeon' are used somewhat interchangeably. In ornithological practice, there is a tendency for 'dove' to be used for smaller species and 'pigeon' for larger ones, but this is in no way consistently applied, and historically the common names for these birds involve a great deal of variation between the terms 'dove' and 'pigeon.' This family occurs worldwide, but the greatest variety is in the Indomalaya and Australasia ecozones. Young doves and pigeons are called 'squabs.'
Have you seen my boyfriend?
Painful the kiss of his wisdom tooth
Stingy and uses my perfume,
Curly hair
Green eyes
Dimples on both cheeks
When he smiles
And he holds a guitar all the time.
If not the drawn mascara pencil mustache
He looks like a girl.
Swing walk and everybody likes him.
When I saw him last night at the theater
He wore a black T Shirt
And a Red Trouser.
O somebody must have eloped with him?
Swing walk and everybody likes
And I missed him
My boyfriend!
* for the boisterous Irene to reduce her speed!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Make A Difference Today
Make A Difference Today
i want to be a blessing to you
with all my might, i can give it to you
i can offer a ride, a penny or two
just to make you smile, please don't be blue
i can send you a card, a gift, a call
so you will be standing tall
i want to give you the best today
and make a difference for you to stay
so light up that gloomy side
there is always a light that never hide
God will always be there for you
And my hugs to keep you through
Smile..and the world will smile back at you
and make a difference today and for me..
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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