The Squab
Toward a better world I contribute my modest smidgin;
I eat the squab, lest it become a pigeon.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Related quotes
You Can Contribute A Verse
Contribute a verse, contribute a verse,
Who can contribute a verse?
Contribute a verse, contribute a verse,
You can contribute a verse.
You may be an underpaid lab’rer,
Streetsweeper or overworked nurse,
A migrant without any papers,
But you can contribute a verse.
You left school at sixteen with no GCSEs?
Did you graduate from Oxford with a First?
Makes no diff’rence, not one bit, for you both are fully fit,
Well-equipped to lay before the world a verse.
You may have no notes in your wallet,
You may have no coins in your purse,
No shoes on your feet, no breakfast to eat,
But you can contribute a verse.
Are you feeling sad and lonely,
In the depths of misery?
Do you feel this Life we’re living
Is not worth the entrance fee?
Are you sure that things will not get any better?
Quite persuaded they will go from bad to worse?
No great problem, drama, crisis, doesn’t matter,
As long as you can come up with a verse.
And it’s possible you’ve heard that our days upon this earth
Are not many, are not many, precious few.
We have hardly enough time to take in all of the sights,
Or do the things that we would like to do.
For we’ve barely crawled out of the cradle,
Then they cart us away in a hearse.
So, in the meantime don’t be idle:
Be sure to contribute a verse!
27/9/06
poem by Denys E. W. Jones
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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 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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Hiding With A Squab
'Have you run out of luck? '
Said the goose who left a flock of geese,
On an approach...
To what was thought,
To be a sitting duck plucked.
~No not at all.~
Replied a nearby pigeon,
Practicing ventriloquism...
And hiding with a squab,
Of witnessing young pigeons.
~My family and I,
Have grown tired of berries, popcorn and nuts.
And we decided to use a decoy,
To see what showed up.
But to my surprise,
A nosey goose has arrived.
Strutting with a pulchritude...
To annoy a duck...
My uncle disguised.
Telling me that I had talents,
The family thought could be put to better use.
And here you come strutting...
Believing a plucked duck has run out of luck,
When tonight a family of pigeons....
Are going to feast on cooked goose.
Something to feed the younger pigeons,
To lift them with an ego boost!
Get 'em boys! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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One World One Family
let us enter
in a new world
a world
of no boundaries
a world
of no walls
a world
of no terror
a world
of no poverty
a world
of no weapons
one world
of one family
no countries
no politicians
no wars
just imagine
a paradise
let us awake
contribute
your self
for a
new world
of oneness
today you imagine
tomorrow you do
one by one
global awakening happens
one world
one family
happens one day
poem by Ramesh Kavdia
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Close friends contribute to our personal growth. They also contribute to our personal pleasure, making the music sound sweeter, the wine taste richer, the laughter ring louder because they are there.
quote by Judith Viorst
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People hear that and say I'm being modest, but I am not a modest person, but I have to be truthful about what I'm doing and what I'm doing is channeling.
quote by Morgan Freeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anyone's Grandmother
An impression boils and vapor coalesces on a broad white leaf
Like the rendered nectar from a delicate dandelion
Brushed and vibrant cascading in the dawn light
Her soft silver hair tied back in a knot and skewed with a whale bone
Those delicate fingers snatching the skein
Flitting about like moths round a gaslight
Fashioning a fine barbed steel brocade
Or shaking out the weavers with a yellow straw broom
Watching them disappear over the roof in a startled cloud
Rolling the callow in flour
Dropping them like pink dumplings
Into the crackling oil
The smells that stole from that kitchen
I'll recall to my dying day
Apple cinnamon fritters
Buttery steaming hot rolls, perfectly tanned
Ginger bread babies with red gumdropp eyes
I miss your bent form
Shrieking 'Rock of Ages' like some
Tortured squab in one of your pigeon pies
poem by George Murdock
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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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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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Mr Attlee is a very modest man. Indeed he has a lot to be modest about.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Attlee is a very modest man. Indeed he has a lot to be modest about.
quote by Winston Churchill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've always had this unresolved desire to prove that I could get a Ph.D., or contribute something else to the world.
quote by Diane Lane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Is modesty a virtue?
She is modest, who hides her beauty.
It is she who hides her defects too.
She is modest, who conceals her love.
It is she who buries her infidelity too.
01.05.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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As Broad As It's Long
MODEST men must needs endure,
And the bold must humbly bow;
Thus thy fate's the same, be sure,
Whether bold or modest thou.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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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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