Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters
Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof
out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross
surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers
'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking
your picture, pigeons. I'm writing you down, Dawn.
I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus.
O Thought, now you'll have to think the same thing forever!
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Related quotes
City Pigeons
Around my boots where I am sitting crumbs of bread they happily eat
The cheeky and colourful City pigeons so at home on the city street
Their cousins the rock pigeons of the Northlands in Town would feel so out of place
They once were the very same species though now quite a different race.
Introduced by humans to cities all around the World in busy towns they feel at home
Beyond the borders of suburbia the city pigeons seldom do roam
They build their flimsy nests of sticks on building ledges their young they hatch out in the Spring
Like their ancestors on trees they do not roost or nest Nature is such a wonderful thing.
Some people they like and feed the city pigeons whilst others do not like them at all
Though Nature cares for all of her children from the very great to the small
And wild-born things can be so adaptable in noisy environments they they've learned to dwell
The city pigeons of this one example in cities they do very well.
By the street seat around my boots they eat bread crumbs like house sparrows they are almost tame
They were born and raised in the city to be good at surviving their one claim to fame
Liked by some and disliked by others but that they are good at surviving none can deny
They are born and raised in the noisy city and in the city they do die.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Pigeons
My pigeons.
these, who live
in the birdhouse,
(for
pets)
are not at all “my” pigeons.
I am not there during the day.
And I cannot recognize myself.
At night they talk to each other.
I understand that this is so,
when in the room with my pigeons
I am met by a big blue eye.
They shyly grow quiet.
Please,
Do not be concerned.
They get along just fine.
poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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The Pigeon Poem
The Pigeon is taking food away from her mate today,
or he is taking food away from his mate today.
She is taking food to put on fat for winter time,
or he is taking food from her to dine.
Pigeons are like people cause people are like that.
feeding Pigeons in the park is fine,
old people have the time, to dine with pigeons;
Time i have today:
the time i play away
thinking of (?)
the pigeons as I dine.
I am fine.
She is putting on her fat.
He is just out to dine.
People are like pigeons.
people are like that.
poem by Charles Hice
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The Metaphor Of The Pigeons Cooing
pigeons live inside the ceiling
taking the entrance at the broken side of the gutter
i can hear them coo
some eggs hatch and some fledglings
are cooing
one day i have not heard of them anymore
and the rats are singing
like pigeons cooing
these rats wanting to get attention
tomorrow i will take away the gutter
so the pigeons will know that we are missing them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tenth Avenue Freeze-out
Tear drops on the city
Bad scooter searching for his groove
Seem like the whole world walking pretty
And you cant find the room to move
Well everybody better move over, thats all
Im running on the bad side
And I got my back to the wall
Tenth avenue freeze-out, tenth avenue freeze-out
Im stranded in the jungle
Taking all the heat they was giving
The night is dark but the sidewalks bright
And lined with the light of the living
From a tenement window a transistor blasts
Turn around the corner things got real quiet real fast
She hit me with a tenth avenue freeze-out
Tenth avenue freeze-out
And Im all alone, Im all alone
And kid you better get the picture
And Im on my own, Im on my own
And I cant go home
When the change was made uptown
And the big man joined the band
From the coastline to the city
All the little pretties raise their hands
Im gonna sit back right easy and laugh
When scooter and the big man bust this city in half
With a tenth avenue freeze-out, tenth avenue freeze-out
Tenth avenue freeze-out...
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sallys Pigeons
When I was eight I had a friend
With a pirate smile
Make believe and play pretend
We were innocent and wild
Hopped a fence and slammed the gate
Running down my alleyway
In time to watch sallys pigeons fly
We loved to watch them dive and soar
Circle in the sky
Free as a bird from three to four
And never knowing why
Neighbors pulled their wash back in
Put away my barbie and ken
Look out overhead
While sallys pigeons fly
I had a fools confidence
That the world had no boundaries
But instincts and common sense
Come in different quantities
My heart began to
Skip to the beat
Of the boy next door
She had her eye across the street
On someone shy and tall
We lived our dreams
And challenged fate
In tears she told me she was late
And sally let his pigeons out to fly...
On the dresser sits a frame
With a photograph
Two little girls in ponytails
Some twenty one years back
She left one night with just a nod
Was lost from some back alley job
I close my eyes and sallys pigeons fly
She never saw those birds again
And me, I cant remember when
A pirate smile hasnt made me cry
I close my eyes
And sallys pigeons fly...
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New York, New York
Well, I shuffled through the city on the 4th of july
I had a firecracker waiting to blow
Breakin like a rocket who makin its way
To the cities of mexico
Lived in an apartment out on avenue a
I had a tar-hut on the corner of 10th
Had myself a lover who was finer than gold
But Ive broken up and busted up since
And love dont play any games with me
Anymore like she did before
The world wont wait, so I better shake
That thing right out there through the door
Hell, I still love you, new york
Found myself a picture that would fit in the folds
Of my wallet and it stayed pretty good
Still amazed I didnt lose it on the roof of the place
When I was drunk and I was thinking of you
Every day the children they were singing their tune
Out on the streets and you could hear from inside
Used to take the subway up to houston and 3rd
I would wait for you and Id try to hide
And love wont play any games with me
Anymore if you dont want it to
The world wont wait and I watched you shake
But honey, I dont blame you
Hell, I still love you, new york
Hell, I still love you, new york
New york
I remember christmas in the blistering cold
In a church on the upper west side
Babe, I stood their singing, I was holding your arm
You were holding my trust like a child
Found a lot of trouble out on avenue b
But I tried to keep the overhead low
Farewell to the city and the love of my life
At least we left before we had to go
And love wont play any games with you
Anymore if you want em to
So we better shake this old thing out the door
Ill always be thinkin of you
Ill always love you though new york
Ill always love you though new york, new york, new york
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Man with a Guitar
Men talk on the public square,
Pigeons eat on the sidewalk and fly,
Women flirt and feed the pigeons.
Men, envious of pigeons,
Desire more attention from the women
But women only notice birds who know how to sing.
There comes a nightingale that starts singing
And attention moves from pigeons to nightingales;
There comes a man with a guitar, and he starts playing
And singing like a nightingale.
A woman allured by these new sounds
Forgets the pigeons and nightingales;
She shyly starts to sing
And turns to a man with a guitar.
poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Sally's Pigeons
When I was eight I had a friend
with a pirate smile
make believe and play pretend
we were innocent and wild
hopped a fence and slammed the gate
running down my alleyway
in time to watch Sally's pigeons fly
We loved to watch them dive and soar
circle in the sky
free as a bird from three to four
and never knowing why
neighbors pulled their wash back in
put away my Barbie and Ken
look out overhead
while Sally's pigeons fly
I had a fool's confidence
that the world had no boundaries
but instincts and common sense
come in different quantities
my heart began to
skip to the beat
of the boy next door
she had her eye across the street
on someone shy and tall
we lived our dreams
and challenged fate
in tears she told me she was late
and Sally let his pigeons out to fly...
On the dresser sits a frame
with a photograph
two little girls in ponytails
some twenty one years back
she left one night with just a nod
was lost from some back alley job
I close my eyes and Sally's pigeons fly
she never saw those birds again
and me
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper from Twelve Deadly Cyns ...and then some
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Child
I HEARD in the night the pigeons
Stirring within their nest:
The wild pigeons' stir was tender,
Like a child's hand at the breast.
I cried 'O stir no more!
(My breast was touched with tears).
O pigeons, make no stir
A childless woman hears.'
poem by Padraic Colum
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You Don't Have To Paint Me A Picture
The kiss was colder than I remember
When we first said hello
I guess the flame's now a little lower
I can feel you letting go
You know the pain drops a little darker
Then when you first put it on
I guess your love's like some old cheap and magic marker
Said forever nice go
But you don't have to paint me a picture
You don't have to say things at all
You don't have to paint me a picture
I can see in the writing on the wall
When we first fell, we fell a long way
Summer nights and winter days
Mountain sunrise, ocean sunset
Hand in hand in the haze
Now it's cold heart summer evenings
And there's clouds on my sunrise
But you don't have to smile and say you're happy
I can see what's in your eyes
You don't have to paint me a picture
You don't have to say things at all
You don't have to paint me a picture
I can see in the writing on the wall
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picture Picture by Tanya Markova
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Nang gabing masilayan ka...
Dala-dala ko pa
Ang aking lumang camera
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Campus gig noon at nag-aya ang tropa
Maraming bebot ang nagsasayaw
Nang biglang mapansin kita
What a beautiful face
At kinunan kita
What a beautiful face
Angat ka sa iba
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
What a beautiful
What a beautiful face
I saw her face
Mukha syang taga-a a outerspace
Si Mang Roger ako'y kinalabit
Ang sabi
Halika na balot muna
Bago ka mag-konica
Na seramika gawa sa pabrika
Lagot ka na ang kamera may mahika
Ano ang lohika kung bat nahilo ka
Mekaniko si Moniko ng makina ni Monika
What a beautiful face
Bigla kang nawala
What a beautiful face
Ako'y natulala
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
What a beautiful
What a beautiful face
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Meron syang look alike na
Mekaniko si Moniko ng makina ni Monika
What a beautiful face
O nasaan ka na
What a beautiful face
Hinahanap-hanap ka
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
Picture picture ohh...
Picture picture
What a beautiful
What a beautiful face...
poem by Shi Yelami
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Childhood Sky
childhood sky is always bright
flying with colourful birds
one exotic hornbill missed
its way to jungle, flew to town
to rest on a neighbour's roof
exhibiting its full splendour
and forever painted itself in
my memory in refreshing
red yellow, horn and all
a migrating egret flew to
a tree right in front of our house,
stayed there like an old wise
white haired man before
flying away my heart with it
the varied coloured pigeons
that turned the roof into their paradise
mating on chimneys, their wings flapping,
crowning in triumph over a female
and their signature rush to build
their nest, holding a straw in their beaks
the way a scintillating professor
out to build a sky of knowledge
for his brood, would
a few of the pigeons even flew
a few kilometres back after having been
given to our cousins holding dear
our hearts high up in the sky
one magpie sang each morn
away on a little chimney provoking me
to speak with it in excited nurseries
a forlorn pigeon waited and
waited till dusk for its companion
to emerge from the ground
disappointed and flew away
a grey world of disappointment*
childhood sky is
always bright with tales
and rains down memories -
sweet, sad, and joyful
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Poisoning Pigeons In The Park
Planned it all out mate,
put these pigeons through sore straights.
Should teach them a lesson or two,
of where to dropp their doo.
Planned it all out mate,
put it in the bread crate,
took it to the park and fed,
all the pigeons till they were dead.
'Tis our favourite pass time,
my honey and I.
I'll not take it for such a crime,
they're pigeons after all, who'll cry?
Gave 'em a little bit of cyanide,
and threw some mercury in for good measure,
maybe people will think it suicide,
or view their deaths as a great pleasure.
poem by Soren Valentine
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Could You Picture Life?
Could you picture life?
Could you picture life?
Misty morning with birds singing melodies,
Could you picture life in the clouds,
The Morning star,
The comets,
The ufos,
The foolishness in racism,
Could you see CNN,
The crimes and the bursting that we play everyday,
The religious crimes,
Could you picture the negation in man?
That we die everyday is sin,
Could you picture?
Love is worth the New World Understanding,
Picture my eyes and see that we all be crying,
My brothers and sisters are dyeing and suffocating,
Picture the New World,
Where the True Understanding will dwell in our heart,
Could you picture?
You and I are no different,
We same creatures that creep for Bread,
Could you picture?
No man better than other,
Could you picture?
The credibility of Human Trust.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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Picture Of A City
I picture the bright lights
Faces becoming a blur
The sound of a city not sleeping
Sirens and shouts in the distance
Trying to piece together fragments
Of a story I want to understand
Maybe making it up is easier
The hurry and the pace of the city
I’m watching perched on my balcony
Water, ice and whisky in a glass
Perfect company for a winter evening
Sat looking down on mans creations
In the hustle of the night life
Music beats rise and fall and rise again
Always with a changing frequency
Lovers stroll arm in arm casual
Looking through restaurant windows
Fantasy shopping at closed stores
I picture it all going on never ending
The city never sleeping
Bright faces becoming a blur
I picture the city below me
poem by Matthew Holloway
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How I Picture Heaven
How I Picture Heaven by Kenny Davis
How do I picture Heaven?
The great kingdom among clouds
His children, His saints
His angels, rejoicing loud
How do I picture Heaven?
This astonishing, glorious place
Where I pray to have the honor
To gaze upon his majestic face
How do I picture Heaven?
The street paved in gold
Worth more than the richest treasure
Even grander than I was told
How do I picture Heaven?
Beyond light-years away from earth
Beyond mere galaxies away from pain
Even much further away all of the hurt
How do I picture Heaven?
Many mansions made of pearl
Luster brighter than the stars
One that shines across the world
How do I picture Heaven?
Free of worry and strife
No more heartbreak and heart ache
Looking forward to this eternal life
How do I picture Heaven?
On every face, there is a smile
The joy amongst his followers
Can be seen for many miles
How do I picture Heaven?
Land of milk and honey
Sweeter than grain of a sugar cane
And every day is sunny
How do I picture Heaven?
Or should I say, “The land of honey and milk”
With everyone in their marvelous robes
Softer than Egyptian silk
How do I picture Heaven?
Land of joy and bliss
If you are to miss the train
Oh! What a party you would miss!
How do I picture Heaven?
With much dancing around the throne
No ailment, No sickness
No illness or broken bones
How do I picture Heaven?
I was told of a great feast
Food stretching beyond North and South
Further beyond West and East
How do I picture Heaven?
Christ went to prepare a place for me
More glorious than I have heard
I can’t wait to see
How do I picture Heaven?
As the angels spread their wings
Harps and trumpets are to sound
As his many children are drawn to sing
How do I picture Heaven?
Everyone stands in celebration
Forever shielded from the troubles
Forever shielded from the tribulation
How do I picture Heaven?
With amazing sights yet to be seen
More glorious wonders left to witness
For many, will be far beyond belief
How do I picture Heaven?
As the angels’ robes glisten
They shall sing many songs of Zion
All who have ears shall listen
How do I picture Heaven?
The legendary kingdom of glory
The masses, gathered in fellowship
And every day is Sunday morning
How do I picture Heaven?
The mere thought of a world without sin?
Sure hope I don’t end up
Left on the outside, looking in
How do I picture Heaven?
When we are called up into the air
I am doing all I can to go
I hope to see you there!
© November 2010 k.davis
poem by Kenneth Davis
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 05: Retrospect
Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops,
Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass.
A flock of pigeons rises with blue wings flashing,
Rises with whistle of wings, hovers an instant,
And settles slowly again on the tarnished grass.
And one old man looks down from a dusty window
And sees the pigeons circling about the fountain
And desires once more to walk among those trees.
Lovers walk in the noontime by that fountain.
Pigeons dip their beaks to drink from the water.
And soon the pond must freeze.
The light wind blows to his ears a sound of laughter,
Young men shuffle their feet, loaf in the sunlight;
A girl's laugh rings like a silver bell.
But clearer than all these sounds is a sound he hears
More in his secret heart than in his ears,—
A hammer's steady crescendo, like a knell.
He hears the snarl of pineboards under the plane,
The rhythmic saw, and then the hammer again,—
Playing with delicate strokes that sombre scale . . .
And the fountain dwindles, the sunlight seems to pale.
Time is a dream, he thinks, a destroying dream;
It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas;
It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls.
Where was the woman he loved? Where was his youth?
Where was the dream that burned his brain like fire?
Even a dream grows grey at last and falls.
He opened his book once more, beside the window,
And read the printed words upon that page.
The sunlight touched his hand; his eyes moved slowly,
The quiet words enchanted time and age.
'Death is never an ending, death is a change;
Death is beautiful, for death is strange;
Death is one dream out of another flowing;
Death is a chorded music, softly going
By sweet transition from key to richer key.
Death is a meeting place of sea and sea.'
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Sad picture piece
The picture we took together
And put together piece by piece
All of us as a Group
With smiles on our faces we
Were laughing together
Creating what we thought
Was a big happy picture
Now in the future we look
At that big picture piece
And see a sad picture piece
Comparing it to today, most of us…
Dead, war reached us.
What use to be happy picture piece.
Turned to what it really was.
A sad picture piece we put together
As a Group.
Smiling, laughing, naive
Naïve of what the future
Could bring
Friends dying, revealing what they
Really did with there life
In the past, happy as can be
Together wishing for more
Seeing that picture now
Remembering all the thing’s I had
In the past, also with things I lost
Now you see a picture with lies
But also the truth
Both makes the group shot of friends
We put together
A big, but small sad picture piece.
poem by Marcellus Watts
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The Final Painting
The white cloud passed over the land
there is sea always round the land
the sky is blue always above the cloud
the cloud in the blue continues to move
- nothing is limited by the canvas or frame -
the white cloud can be pictured like any
other clouds or like a fist of wool
or a white fur rose
The white cloud passes a shadow across
the landscape and so there is a passing greyness
The grey and the white both envelop
the watcher until he too is drawn into the picture
It is all a journey from a room through a door
down stairs and out into the street
The cloud could possess the house
The watchers have a mutual confidence
with the approaching string of white clouds
It is beyond spoken words what they are
silently mouthing to the sky
There was no mystery in this - only the firm
outline of people in overcoats on a hillside
and the line of clouds above them
The sky is blue The cloud white with touches
of grey - the rest - the landscape below -
can be left to the imagination
The whole painting quietly dissolved itself
into its surrounding clouds
poem by Lee Harwood
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