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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Hear Voices...
And from the graves, where names were carved in
stone, came a mournful Ballad, of life gone by.
A Ballad sang by mothers, whose children left behind,
and left to sing their ballads, of tears that did remain.
And what of Fathers Ballad, whose job was not complete,
who died and sang his song, of things that could not be.
In a smaller voices, still weeping and confused, the children
sang their Ballad, of parents never knew.
And in some far off place, a Ballad did come fourth, of all
the deaths that happened, that wasn't meant to be.
A soldiers painful Ballad, did seemed so unjust, of the
war that finally killed him, in a land he never knew.
The Ballad, of unknown, thou human, none the less,
were buried here alone, with not a one to care.
In the quiet of a cemetery morn, the Ballad of
the dead, echoes silently across green grass,
and through the granite stones.
It makes one wonder, about the Ballad of the dead,
and what will be our song...when we are finally gone.
Barefoot Ballad
(words & music by fuller - morris)
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Give me a honk-tonk fiddle with a guitar in the middle and a melody
Humming like a fountain swinging out on smokey mountain
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Now the big toes connected to the two toe
And the two toes connected to the three toe
And the three toes connected to the four toe
And the four toes connected to the five toe
And the five toe and away we go
I want a barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a down home country song
cause when I kick my shoes off and I kick my blues off
With a barefoot ballad you just cant go wrong
Now the big toes connected to the two toe
And the two toes connected to the three toe
And the three toes connected to the four toe
And the four toes connected to the five toe
And the five toe and away we go
I wanna barefoot ballad yes a barefoot ballad
Wont you play for me a barefoot ballad song.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad of Our Love...
oh so pure is the projection of this dream
my only dream – upon our past…
I’m giving birth to how our love
would have been life’s most tender home
and to how gracefully our souls
would have been blessed…
and I am painting you the picture
of our passion and delight
and I am rhyming you our every day and night…
come, hold my hand, my man, my mate
it’s not too late…it’s not too late…
here are our mountains and our moors
our savage bushlands and our shores…
here is the forest of our weightless
wondrous Mays…
oh so pure is the projection of this dream
my only dream – upon our past…
you are my pride, my boy, my guide
and I’m your womangirl, your brumby
I’m your butterfly, your dawn
your fawn, your bride…
come, hold my hand, my man, my mate
it’s not too late…it’s not too late…
here is our house, our cherished haven
here’s our kitchen, here’s our bed…
this is the bright and brilliant ballad
of the words we would have said…
oh so pure is the projection of this dream
my only dream – upon our past…
these are our children, see them smile
while they are playing in the yard…
this is the everlasting thruth
I’m gently laying in the lightrose of your heart…
poem by Rikki Keller
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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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Last night I had a dream
Last night i had a dream
a dream about a future
a future that i had buried
deep within
A dream that made me wonder
how deep is that burial place
within me
Last night i had a dream
a dream about a past
a past that my memory
refuses to name.
Dug up by another name from
that very past
Last night i had a dream
a dream about the present
a present that i choose to
live in oblivion off.
a present with hurt, betrayal
pain and sadness
A present that however hard
i run away from shackles
me to my past and my future
chains, which i am unable to
break free from
which tie me down and make me who and what i am
Last night i had a dream
do i wish to wake up and
face reality.
are not the dream and the reality
one and the same.
Last night i had a dream
a dream or was i awake
finally.
poem by Jasveen Ahluwalia
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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 Resonant Dream
The final dream
So resonant and pure
The final dream
Will never be at its end
Its long journey almost o'er
The final dream
Has just begun
To rattle the fate at hand
The final dream
Is as pure as gold
It is perfect and will stand
The final dream
Will never come to a close
Yet it has a happy hand
The final dream
Is a grand dream
That turns the time of sand
The final dream
Is such a dream
That it is now near its end
poem by Alex Fischer
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Ballad Of Nice & Easy
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
Two of these kids grew up on the same street
And though some folks blow it, there's no smoke in their eyes
They're tying their dreams with doubled up laces
Falling, free falling, tangled up 'til they die
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
'Cause everyone knows they'll get their hands dirty
Ripping at seams and smoking hot knives
But sooner or later there's an end to this candle
We'll burn it at both ends and switch on the lights
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreams
Alone I sit and alone I dream
The world is naught but dust to me
In a place I know the place I dream
I dream of things I've never seen
I dream of places I've never been
I dream of finding my one true love
Of finding treasure hidden in the stars above
I dream of space
I dream of one day finishing my race
Can the dream last?
Whose to say what dreams will go and what dreams will stay
I dreamed that I will come home to thee
Where nightmares are kept at bay.
poem by Rachel Branscombe
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Dream On (live, MTVIcon)
Every time that I look in the mirror
All these lines in my face gettin' clearer
The past is gone;
It went by like dusk to dawn
Isn't that the way?
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay
I know nobody knows
Where it comes and where it goes
I know it's everybody's sin;
You got to lose to know how to win.
Half my life's in books' written pages,
Live and learn from fools and from sages
You know it's true,
All the feelings
Come back to you.
Sing with me,
Sing for the year,
Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear.
Sing it with me
If it's just for today,
Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away.
(aaaaaaaaa...)
Sing with me,
Sing for the year,
Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear.
Sing it with me
If it's just for today,
Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away.
(come on )
Dream on, dream on, dream on,
Dream yourself a dream come true.
Dream on, dream on, dream on,
Dream until your dream comes true.
Dream on, Dream on, Dream on,
Dream, Dream ,Dream come true
Dream on, Dream on, Dream on, Dream on
Dream on, Dream on, Dream on (aaa...)
song performed by by Train
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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More fundamentally, it is a dream that does not die with the onset of manhood: the dream is to play endlessly, past the time when you are called home for dinner, past the time of doing chores, past the time when your body betrays you past time itself.
quote by John Thorn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seven day-deams
When I was a child, I had a dream
A dream to be like some one
I do not remember, who or why it was
When I was a boy, I had a dream
A dream to be a grown up
Amongst grown ups, as I envisioned
When I was a youth, I had a dream
A dream to make my mother proudly
Cos', she was dreaming to be proud of me
When I was a man, I had a dream
A dream to reach a plateau, one day
Amongst my colleagues already up there
Day I became a father, I had a dream
A dream to be a proud father
That being my bounden and divine duty
I had no choice, but, strove day and night
Lokzi, Podzi and Chutzi, most precious trio
Thank you, for making me proud, at last
Can never be better, I am sure
For, I shall not dream any more, for you
Being proud, nonetheless, I have a dream
A dream to say-so the world aloud
Best way to be proud, if you like
Is to dream, dream and dream
As a matured, I have a final dream
A dream to stop dreaming any more
Day I tame my craving desires
I'll be there, then, adieu to all of you all!
Jayatissa K.Liyanage
poem by Jayatissa Liyanage
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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 Gothic Ballad
I walk carelessly down the dark road
My heavy black boots constantly clicking
Clicking on the cold cement
My long black and velvet Trench coat
Billowing in the slight breeze
My Chest slightly rising under my tight corset
My chains on my pants jingling together
As I walk down this Moon lit road
Staring up at the midnight moon
This is the ballad
The ballad of the lost
Of the silent warriors
Of the people you pass by and call freaks
Of the people
Who will save your soul
For our souls are pure
Our souls sing this ballad
The ballad of the night
The ballad of the pure hearts
poem by Ankoku Gekido
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Let there be food in the pigeon-house, and the pigeons will come to it.
Drug Ballad
Back of the building, we're with your friends
Back of the mind, smoke in the air then
Let's clear that up, even if we felt ends
Something these withdrawal pills won't mend
The numb tips when my hands on your hips
The nasty taste on lips, oh how they miss
Your dirty kiss, drugs, love, must mix up rough.
Oh princess, you can keep all that stuff
Smell of the haze, reminds me of my dad
Slowly no haste, do it till I don't feel my hands
I can't feel my face, don't stop till I can't stand
Give me that slutty taste, show your friends...that I'm a man
Snow the white, burn the smoke, just to start, dropp the spheres
It isn't right, down the throat, cut the heart with your spears
Bite my lips, I just might back
We're so lit, let's come back
Numb those hips, break that back
Drug ballad, dancing with you
Drug ballad, even though it's threw
Drug ballad, dream of it, oh yes I do
Drug ballad, I know you do too
poem by Freddy Ibarra
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