Thou Art Not Common
I oft shooed thee as bird of barest brain,
No, ye do hide behind some talent rare,
Should a rare hand nurture ye to train,
Thine sense of shades I doubt any may share.
It is thine knack human commands to heed
That makes thee a bird of a choicest breed,
Thou ‘lone, O angel, canst call a Monet
From a Picasso, Peace pigeon, prized pet!
It was when I saw a huge flock of thee
Taking off from the ground at a command,
Swirling soon in a formation to be,
Showing off skills in flight, and to soft-land,
Thence to trap birds of rival fleet—what treat!
I know ye deserve discerning diet—
Of dry fruits and pure Indian ghee— a bit
Rich may it look — a long-corn and millet.
I never knew doves could be trained to tell
A human voice or whistle, and many
A hand gesture to return safe and well
To base, until I did thine talent see.
Thou hast the measure of magnetic field
Of Earth, to have a sense to know at best
Thine place in space with the power ye wield,
And to return spot-on to place of rest.
Those eyes hast more colour cones than us,
That thou canst see three times as many shades
As humans, making ye a bird so precious,
A pigment marked seldom from thine mind fades.
O thou, a perennial guest of my house,
I'd not shoo thee away- now that I know
Thou art not like that pesky pest, the mouse;
Yet hygiene's good habits ye ought to show!
And ye make every corner, every niche
In my house, and thine nesting place, a rage,
Thine maternity home all so hellish,
But, pray, a house is no home of garbage!
It's odd, we call thee a common pigeon;
Such rare credentials can't make thee common.
For nesting home, O thou a homing bird:
What made ye leave trees to like human herd?
______________________________________ ________________
- Reflections | 03.01.12
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment