I like people not being able to be pigeon-holed.
quote by Matthew Shipp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You can become really pigeon-holed in this industry.
quote by Morris Chestnut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My career is chequered. Then I think I got pigeon-holed in humour; Shakespeare is not my thing.
quote by Maggie Smith
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I think that I've been pigeon-holed by virtue of the fact that I've spent so much time in front of a green screen.
quote by Jonathan Frakes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have worried about getting pigeon-holed, but now I think I've done enough weird, offbeat stuff not to be. And I also know that I do things for the right reasons: I've made my money, so I don't have to say yes to anything.
quote by Christopher Meloni
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No not pigeon holed me as an actor, or as a character, or as to what I could do - but what I would do... and the fact is the things you don't do are almost as important as as the things that you do.
quote by Dabney Coleman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Each pebble wants to ripple
The world classics had been out of print.
Award winning works went out of shelf.
Nobel Prize literatures are pigeon holed.
Yet sprout umpteen works, though petty
As each pebble make a ripple in chain.
A creation of the known is
Dearer than any other master creation.
08.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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We Are Doves
'Try the other one! '
I did and I can't fit!
'Well...
'Pick another one! '
You pick it..
Why are we bothering with this?
'They want us pigeoned holed.
And it seems they have forgotten who we are! '
Then why are we here?
Wasting all this time to see if things can work out?
We are Doves!
Let 'them' run after 'nuts'.
They will never recognize
We do not chase after popcorn!
We are Doves...
And pigeoned holed,
We can not be!
Wasn't that understood?
Before they claimed us as property?
We are Doves!
Have you too forgotten?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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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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Where you live.
What's in a postcode? , of your humble abode.
Not just part of your address, information they possess! !
Browsing the net, pigeon-holed info'my eyes met.
Departmentalized, job and income, even what paper's I read, ‘Star& Sun.'
Ironic, me the‘tabloid stereo type', their web-page is static, not right.
So much for the world wide medium, on the day, I'd been reading the‘Guardian'!
This all explains'personnel circumstances'getting a loan and your chances..
Regards to my loan rate, dictated by‘Where You Live'it should state.! !
They categorize, label, stigmatize, so'they', your custom, can patronize.
Ticked off, a bit annoyed, at their criteria that's employed.
If only, I had lived in a ‘better location', maybe, gotten a better deal with my loan situation?
So if ever you're refused a card or loan, 'No'you're told,
Check your out your post code, and the data it may hold! !
28/05/06
poem by Guy Lipmore
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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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How Can I Respect People
How can I respect people who do not respect me
Who to others do not grant me my due equality
Since equality to others is everybody's due
That is if to one's higher self one wish to remain true
Too many far too many support the inequality of rank
Our sadly flawed socities for such people we must thank
I cannot respect people who see fit to put me down
Far too many of their sort inhabit every town
These people not good people strange mind games they do play
They uphold rank and class distinction and create us against they
How can I respect people who like to pigeon hole
Those they look on as inferior in life this their chosen role
On who should be seen as important they like to have their say
They are small minded people small in their own small way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Triumph
Why am I full of joy although
It drizzles on the links?
Why am I buying Veuve Cliquot,
And setting up the drinks?
Why stand I like a prince amid
My pals and envy none?
Ye gods of golf! Today I did
A Hole in One.
I drove my ball to heaven high,
It over-topped the hill;
I tried to guess how it would lie,
If on the fairway still.
I climbed the rise, so sure I'd hit
It straight towards the green:
I looked and looked,--no trace of it
Was to be seen.
My partner putted to the pin,
Then hoarse I heard him call;
And lo! So snug the hole within
Gleamed up my ball.
Yea, it was mine. Oh what a thrill!
What dandy drive I'd done
By luck,--well, grant a little skill,
I'd holed in one.
Say that my score is eighty odd,
And though I won't give up,--
Say that as round the course I plod,
I never win a cup.
Say that my handicap's nineteen,
And of my game make fun,
But holler: 'On the seventh green
HE HOLED IN ONE.'
poem by Robert William Service
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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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