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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Related quotes
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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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 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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Let there be food in the pigeon-house, and the pigeons will come to it.
Let there be no lack of food in the pigeon-house, and the pigeons will come to it.
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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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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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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A True Story of A True Pet.... My Grandmother's Pet
Pets are always very precious!
They feel and understand our feelings and sorrows!
My maternal grandma an humanist
She tame many pets like cats, pigeons etc
It is her hobby and fun!
She gives foods to her pets regularly and sufficiently
She feeds the pigeons and cats
She love her cat a lot!
She gives milk, meat, fish, bones, rice as his foods
Her pets love her a lot!
She takes care of them very lovingly
But those days were very strange and sad!
My grandpa had died that day!
After his death, that cat not used to eat anything and survive without food
He was behaving very strangely
Even that cat could understand feelings of grandma about her husband That cat was sad to see grandma in pain and couldn't tolerate the pain of the mournful death
At last, the cat had died because of not taking foods
Grandma found it under the bed
Grandma says that was her favorite pet!
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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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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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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Applause
People will grow
More with applause
Than with rich food.
People will die
More for applause
Than for rich food.
People will die
More from applause
Than from rich food.
People forgo,
To get applause,
Their food in time.
People will spend
More for applause
Than for rich food.
Applause will do
What alcohol
Will, to people.
Applause denied,
Or food denied,
The body will wilt.
Applause is earned
To gather people
And select mates.
Applause feeds ego
And food keeps body.
Body is for ego.
18.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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The pigeons
In the afternoon
Some pigeons are taking rest
In the veranda
poem by Asif Andalib
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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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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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To Dine
The night we dine is a fine old time,
Worst health happens to those who abstain from fun.
The nights are cold to the touch,
Dinner awaits.
We have health as we speak, and eat,
The worry of limping and being lame has gone.
The dinner we eat cancels our sleep,
And my legs are enough to satisfy my health.
She points to my head, and my heart jumps,
Insults are rapid and food has been dumped.
On me, on me, and on me,
Me and my legs,
The drink is on my face.
The night we dine, we fight for good health
And never speak again.
poem by Naveed Akram
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An Intruder 5
But I wanted to be sure so I called my next door neighbor-
Not really a friend, but whose advice I entertain from time to time.
'Look, ' she said, 'there are plenty better things to worry about-
Every day more and more, thanks to people's gullibility,
And the disaster mentality created by the press.
(Daphne is fiercely anti-media) Haven't you noticed?
E.G. the same supplements that were said to promote longevity, yesterday
(And which cost an arm and a leg at the health food store, not incidently)
Now will kill you. Take anti-oxidants, for example. Take vitamin E.'
'Take what? ' I asked, not following.
'Surprise! ' People who take vitamin E die sooner. It's been shown.
The whole thing's a scam, cooked up by the pharmaceutical industry, for...'
I didn't know. But it made sense, now she mentioned it.
'You're sure? '
'Sure.'
'But what should I do? '
'Just eat a balanced diet.'
'I mean about the pigeon.'
'Oh, that. Forget it. I'm glad it's not my problem. I detest pigeons.
There's nothing you can do about it, anyway.'
'Maybe I shouldn't fret it.'
'I didn't say THAT. Just choose your obsessions carefully
so as not to waste time.'
That seemed very fair. 'What do you worry about? , I asked,
Like someone who admitted they needed instruction.
'Right now? The Greenland Ice Sheet. It's melting, ya' know.
Look, gotta run.' Click.
That night there was a terrible storm...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Pigeons Cooing When They Do
Pigeons cooing when they do,
A cooing begun.
As they strut after flying...
Or sit and stare with a sitting done.
They seem to fly around in packs,
To peck and pick in shifts.
Until someone begins to eat,
A delicious 'anything' pigeons seek...
With probing beaks.
Then other pigeons dropp in flocks,
From places suspicious.
While peacocking around,
Scouting out for something dished.
Like some popcorn or peanuts.
Or crumbs from crackers and/or bread.
To feed in a cooing...
As if a drooling done is did.
They seem to fly around in packs,
To peck and pick in shifts.
Until someone begins to eat,
A delicious 'anything' pigeons seek...
With probing beaks.
Pigeons cooing when they do,
A cooing begun.
As they strut after flying...
Or sit and stare with a sitting done.
Then other pigeons dropp in flocks,
From places suspicious.
While peacocking around,
Scouting out for something dished.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Diet Coke
I eat to live not live to eat
but I can still enjoy my food.
As I am quite sure I should.
I dine on vegetables and meat
because I know they do me good.
I do not frequent fast food joints
to eat cheese hamburgers and such.
I do not really like them much
Which does not earn me brownie points
from friends with whom I keep in touch.
What suits them does not suit me
They are quite free if they prefer
the food the fast joints can offer
AS for my self I’d rather dine
on wholesome food I get elsewhere.
My friends are mostly overweight
Because they choose convenience
and really cannot see much sense
In eating what I advocate
They see my views as sheer nonsense.
But I am slim and fit while they
are frankly fat and ill at ease
in other words they are obese
and yet they still feast every day
on hamburgers with melted cheese.
Of course they all drink diet coke
a fact that still amuses me.
Although they drink it constantly
I do not think they’d see the joke.
I ‘d rather they were fat than me.
(12-Jun-07)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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