The Killing
The killing
A flock of white doves flew over my house, heading due east, if they were flying to
Israel fat chance, and if they landed on the Gaza strip they would end up in a pot.
Last time I saw a white dove was in 1956, when I accidently killed one, I had made
a bow and arrow and shot into the air and hit one. Our neighbour came, pulled
the arrow out of quivering bird and gave it to me, but kept the dove. The aroma of
roasted bird wafted along the street. We sat eating fried mackerel with turnips,
“why didn’t you take the bird home? ” My mother asked. “But it was white and it
might have been an angel” I said.“? Never mind the colour, we are talking about
food, ” she said. My sister went even further insisted it was Jesus in disguise, and
I had to give her my chewing gum to atone for my sin. White doves of peace with
a palm leave in their beaks, how romantic, war is undying, peace is just a breather
and festive balloons as military brass bands play.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Whiteness Within Me.
The whiteness within…me
Yesterday I saw an albino raven
it had just killed a sparrow and
had drops of blood on its chest.
Having had the privilege to be
white you would think it would
desist from killing sparrows.
But I must be wrong perhaps it
was an angel dressed as cardinal
they wear red and eat meat.
Or was it was a dove of peace
wearing a ruby necklace, or had
it been hurt by an Israeli sniper?
Perhaps it was a white cloud
I saw drifting along on blue
being lit up by a red eyed sun.
A white feather, cowardice is
pale as cold snow, so why does
a peace dove has to be white?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Raven Dove
(Dolly Parton)
There will come a day when sorrow fades away,
And anguish and heartache shall ease,
No mothers cryin', no soldiers dyin',
And turmoil and misery shall cease.
The hungry shall be fed, the aimless shall be led
And sad eyes will no longer weep,
The last shall be first, through heaven he'll burst
With his heavenly host from the East
Weapons to plowshares, hate turns to love,
Descending from heaven he'll sweep down to us
In radiant splendor; oh, won't it be sweet
When the raven of darkness turns into a white dove of peace
(Raven dove)
Oh, there will come a day when I'll fly away
Forever to be in his keep
Eternal life in the sweet by and by
When raven dove, raven dove speaks
When lambs walk with lions, a child tames the beast
Nations shall gather and bow at his feet
And loved ones shall rise up from their earthly sleep
And he'll separate all the chaff from the wheat.
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, how sweet
When the raven of darkness turns into a white dove of peace
Raven dove, behold he cometh in the clouds
And every eye shall see him
Sweet bird, sweet bird of peace
Raven Dove
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ignored. (a Seagull Story)
Ignored. (A seagull story)
At the seaside restaurant it was busy everyone was eating lobsters,
I tried to catch the waiters’ eye. I was ignored and got the feeling
that I was Invisible, or that I was so small that my head didn’t reached
over the table. A seagull landed on my table a beautiful bird,
yellow beak and feet, plumage snowy white its wings light grey/blue
and its eyes were green; it also had the aroma of the Atlantic Ocean.
Waiter came, looked at the bird asked what it wanted, lobster, I said
when the dish came I gave it to the bird. Got up, left and no one tried
to stop me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Little White Bird
little white bird
now that i have set you free
from my hands
to the winds you shall go
to its whims shall you be
search the skies
map out your freedom
be carefree
little bird
do not look back
i am in the prison walls of my mind
still thinking about your white wings
feeling each feather
in every patch of my skin
little bird, little white bird
how pure was that love?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Moment
She walks through the rain, the pain locked behind her cold eyes
She sees the lights of the houses, those Christmas lights,
She sees her home, no lights, no tree, it is dark and still
The rain falls on her long white hair, her white gown flowing tears stream from her eyes
They are silver and full of sorrow and pain they splash against the wet street
And shine like silver perils against the black cold surface.
A car passes and for a moment she thinks the driver saw her, in her gown
For a moment she thought she was alive
Just for a moment
She sees the road stretch before her, she sees the lights that line each house
It is Christmas eave her mother and father are at church for their first Christmas sermon without her there, her eyes fill with more tears and more perils fall to the road
A bird flew above her, a dove
Her mothers favorite bird is a dove, she always says look to the dove for answers
The girl never understood her mothers words, now she knows
For a moment she smiles
For a moment she feels no pain
Just for a moment
She lifted her hands to the Dove
“Take me with you” she pleads into the sky, into the falling rain
The dove fly’s around her and grasps a small twig in his beak
The twig falls into her outstretched arms and she grasps it
She looks at her palm of her hand and sees the holly
The berries shine red, she knows what it means.
For a moment she sees the light stream from the Dove
For a moment she knew to follow
Just for a moment
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Unforgiving Love
one day a blue bird fell in love with a white rose..the rose was envious of everybod falling in love and was afraid that she will get hurt..the blue bird told her that he had loved her from afar but was too scared to tell the white rose how much he actaully did...the white rose told the bird when my petals turn from white to red i will fall in love with you back....the blue bird came by and by everyday and told the white rose how much he loved her...until one day the blue bird cut his wings and soaked the white rose with his blood...the white rose's petals turned from white to a luscious red and she realized how much the blue bird loved her..but it was too late the blue bird fell in front of the rose and the rose was red forever..that's why roses are giving to the ones we loved
poem by Ariff Khan
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Peace to the world....
Peace to the world
Like a flower in the sky
Peace
Peace-overcoming evil with good be
Peace
Give me peace I won't cry anymore
White dove symbol of peace
Peace can be found deep down in the heart
Peace in the winds that sleep upon the deep
I want peace
Peace in my personal space
I want peace in my feelings
Cloth me in white
The color of peace....
poem by Anees Akbar
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Black raven, White dove
When it's black,
Like the raven,
The well is full, but full of what?
My sun is shining in a half pale burst,
With toxic, red hot guilt
And as if in stark contrast,
The white dove just hits home-
And its what I've always wanted alive,
But then when I give some brainpower,
I decide that maybe it could be dead-
And it took the black to show it.
But then the black of the raven,
So beautifully stunning,
I look at her and all I see,
Is the storm in her eyes,
And the dove
Should be crying
For it doesn't know
That my white heart is dying
Replaced by the black of the right
"Home is where the heart is"
Then my home's firmly with the white,
It's where I've lived,
For six months past,
And I feel like I belong
I feel like I am home there
But then I see,
Cupid's stupid decree-
With one black wing and one white,
But which is wrong?
Which right?
But is the dove ever going to surrender?
Wave its' flag and give in to the raven?
Cause the raven's a-pecking,
And so far she's winning,
And with a fight,
And a laboratory,
The boy of white has slim chance of winning.
Cause now that it's out,
I'm secretly devout,
So secretly, darkly obsessed,
With the black of the girl,
And the light blue of the raven's eye,
But then its' always been white,
The dove the keeper of my heart,
Cause I found the dove lost,
With clips in his wings,
And I tried to set him free
I showed all that he belonged to me
And he's the one who set me free,
My first and ever pet,
The first one I've wanted to be with-
Forever.
And the dove's innocent eyes,
And repeated cries,
Made me overlook the fact he can't fly,
But I'm not going to feed him,
All of his food,
He needs to live on his own too so he won't die
But could the raven ever be-
Just with me?
Even if the raven is more beautiful,
How does she know,
And how do I?
That she won't kill me,
That we won't die.
So used to the dove,
The raven's so new,
And there's so much evidence of some grey hue-
An ever-waging war,
Of black and white,
An ever-waging war,
Of wrong and right,
The dove or the raven,
Only you can decide,
The dove or the raven,
The tone that is inside.
poem by Ally Gunther
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History Of the Airplane
And the Wright brothers said they thought they had invented
something that could make peace on earth
(if the wrong brothers didn’t get hold of it)
when their wonderful flying machine took off at Kitty Hawk
into the kingdom of birds but the parliament of birds was freaked out
by this man-made bird and fled to heaven
And then the famous Spirit of Saint Louis took off eastward and
flew across the Big Pond with Lindy at the controls in his leather
helmet and goggles hoping to sight the doves of peace but he did not
Even though he circled Versailles
And then the famous Yankee Clipper took off in the opposite
direction and flew across the terrific Pacific but the pacific doves
were frighted by this strange amphibious bird and hid in the orient sky
And then the famous Flying Fortress took off bristling with guns
and testosterone to make the world safe for peace and capitalism
but the birds of peace were nowhere to be found before or after Hiroshima
And so then clever men built bigger and faster flying machines and
these great man-made birds with jet plumage flew higher than any
real birds and seemed about to fly into the sun and melt their wings
and like Icarus crash to earth
And the Wright brothers were long forgotten in the high-flying
bombers that now began to visit their blessings on various Third
Worlds all the while claiming they were searching for doves of
peace
And they kept flying and flying until they flew right into the 21st
century and then one fine day a Third World struck back and
stormed the great planes and flew them straight into the beating
heart of Skyscraper America where there were no aviaries and no
parliaments of doves and in a blinding flash America became a part
of the scorched earth of the world
And a wind of ashes blows across the land
And for one long moment in eternity
There is chaos and despair
And buried loves and voices
Cries and whispers
Fill the air
Everywhere
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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Black and white
A white bird is flying at day,
Or a black bird is flying at night,
Or a black bird is flying at day,
Or a white bird is flying at night,
Black and white, black over white.
Oh, my Lord, how painful can be
This need of touch in his absence.
White and black, white over black,
Oh, my Lord, how painful can be
This absence of his touch.
Black is penetrating white
And white is penetrating black,
Never finding the gray.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Blue Dove
The Blue Dove Legend.
says it's born every hundred years,
Blue Doves are true,
and brings love.
They say if the Blue Dove,
lands on your porch, or
near you, only good fortune,
for ever you'll have
Love always will be,
deep in your heart, so touching,
you with other down trodden
people, for you to reach.
An open heart to others,
a gift you will have.
Blue Doves are true
so if you see one,
do not flee.
Blue Doves are hatched,
in a nest of two
one white, one blue,
mother cuddles
with ever loving care,
she knows this little thing,
is so special and true.
The day that Blue Dove flees the nest,
and flys into the unknown
some lucky soul their fortune,
will change.
Blue Doves may be just,
a legend, but if you,
do see one, hope it comes,
your way, to bring hope,
love, life and better days.
Blue dove, does bring,
true love, and many happy
days, so watch out, look,
search the skys, Blue
Dove may be coming,
your way.
wrote 1-17-07
Two Sides, One Coin
White bird of peace,
won't you please come save me,
since I'm swallowed by grief and I need sweet release.
Black bird of death,
won't you wrap 'round my neck,
as the ace, king, and queen fall away from the deck.
The caged bird sings,
but the lone bird dies;
Set it free, let it be, let it open your eyes.
poem by William Blake Beckett
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Peace
Peace is white
White be, a dove, a flag
High snow, higher clouds, higher more twinklings
White is tranquil, honarable, reliable, honest and decent
But white is dubious too
As the sparklings dotted in black sky
And black is immoral, bad, evil and sorrow
Yet black is utile too
Like these writings on peaceful white
White is the most sought
As wite is peace disliking conflicts
Yet peace is stuck with wars 'cause
Providence eventuates agitating criminal energy
Beyond love and hate, pain and pleasure
Hidden in is peace special
An exclusive providence unknowing to create evil
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Black Bird That Keeps On Flying
the black bird
keeps on flying
over my head
its wing tips
touch my hair
the black bird
weeps
and my mind
cannot ignore
it
it is seeing you
again
and it does not
know
what to do
with its beak
it wants to kiss you
but your eyes
are angry
it wants to land over
your hair
but they are hard
as wires
the black bird
has no nest for
its eggs
you never mind it
your mind
thinks always of
that white bird
in the sky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If you knew... [De-ai şti...]
If you knew how much, my dear,
I pine for your voice to hear,
You'd come flying like a bird
Just to tell me one more word.
Whether bad or good it be,
We would chatter, you and me,
You would glance and I would stare,
Then the words would fill the air.
You'd say several, I know,
I would let a lot to flow,
Vain, but pure like a white dove,
Telling only about love.
So, come quickly like a bird,
Come and say to me a word,
For I'm eager to rejoice
When I hear your charming voice.
poem by Veronica Micle, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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The Dove of Dacca
The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings—
And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!
The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight—
`If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.
"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep—
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove—if the dove—if the homing dove
Come, and alone, to the palace wall."
The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad—
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford,
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace-wall.
She opened her wings and she flew away—
Fluttered away beyond recall;
She came to the palace at break of day.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall!
The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame—
Slept in the flame of the palace old—
To save their honour from Moslem shame.
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove,
She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled!
The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,
Followed as fast as a horse could fly,
He came and the palace was black at his feet;
And the dove—the dove—the homing dove,
Circled alone in the stainless sky.
So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;
So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,
And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Dacca is lost from the Roll of the Kings!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My perfect white grave
As I look out to the white grave
I wish to stay here all through the day
Peace and quiet and only me
Writting poems and stories for all of time
I wish for all to leave
Just me alone
Let the white terror stop time
And let me be in peace
Let the white terror outside my window
Slow the everyday life
Let me be in my peace of mind
Quiet and peace and only me
Writting poems and stories for all time
Just let the snow white danger slow all time
Please let me be
Let the snow white monster give me my peace
Slow the everyday life
Leave me to gather myself alone
April 2006
poem by Jessie Li here
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A Song Of The Sea.
Here within the half-light 'tween the night and day
Upon the sands I lie, with thoughts that idly stirr'd
Seem, as in a dream, with life and death to play,
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird.
In my heart I hear it, the murmur of the sea,
Ah! and memories of other lives are stirr'd,
As somewise there came a mystic voice to me
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird.
Who but knows that in me is a ghost that hears
A voice it heard of old in the primeval word —
A memory so dim, it like a dream appears
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird!
poem by Robert Crawford
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Wings Of A Dove
Let me fly in the wings of a dove
Above the Manhattan sky
So that all the yankies can see me
At least I will be safe in the wings of a dove
And I can sleep while I am fling in the wings of a dove
I love to fly in the wings of a dove
But the feeling of being high in the sky is great
But God gave me a chance to fly in the wings of a dove
When the opportunity came I didn't even think for a minute
I just jumped right in this opportunity
And I am glad I did it
Because I am having the greatest time when I am flying in the wings of a Dove
But I woke up at midnight and the sky was already dark
Eventhough the dove was still flying
The dove took me all the way to Chigago the windy city
Men I must tell you that it was very windy inthe sky in chicago
But we landed safe in Chicago by the shore
And I sleept in the shore of Chicago for the night
To me it was almost like being inside a movie scream when I woke up the next morning at the Shore of Chicago
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Song. I Had A Dove
I had a dove, and the sweet dove died;
And I have thought it died of grieving:
O, what could it grieve for? its feet were tied
With a single thread of my own hand's weaving;
Sweet little red feet, why should you die--
Why should you leave me, sweet bird, why?
You lived alone in the forest tree,
Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me?
I kiss'd you oft and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?
poem by John Keats
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