Best Pigeon Poems
What if I told you things aren't
what they used to be.
What if I told you clichés
are not always "for the birds"
That the Clichés cling for
a reason and have clung long.
Show me your truth sandwich;
What ingredients did you use?
Smoked lunch meat and cheese
Did you eat that, digest that?
What if I told you cheese is plastic
And ain't what it used to be?
And chicken feed ain't, flies and grain
But Plastic and GMO corn instead.
Don't feed the pigeons, says the sign.
But we don't eat the pigeons here.
So we feed them, and they eat
bits of truth that we now turn down,
Pigeons fly around downtown,
Without true food, without the truth.
Show me your truth sandwich;
What ingredients did you use?
Peanut butter and Bananas?
Pigeons spread disease in excrement
With bits of nontruth, splattered all over;
Making a point about the truth the whole truth
and nothing but the moot truth “So help you, Hanna"?
Cliché' may be our only reality, because little truths
matter, relevance should never be Obsolete.
Big or small, the truth must massively
Combust into big explosions of honesty.
If you should turn your back on truth
You will be face to face with a lie.
The truth needs to matter again
Or nothing else will.
ON RESCUING AN INJURED PIGEON
I.
sliding screen door screeches, pigeons scatter
thump of wing against breast, shockwave breeze
more frequent than in the past, shimmering necks
soundtrack squirrel zig-zags, new-green lawn
perches like the pigeons, await my departure
II.
he appeared in the night, a tattered statue
grey as the rumbling skies, white patch on his back
must be hurt, too painful to move, teal collar
my compassion swells, how can I help?
leave him seed and water, natural healing
III.
red-toed demon leaving bird-turd on my deck
can barely walk let alone fly away, railing perch
rain or sun sits most of the day, ruffled feathers
hit his head or fallen, maybe a scuffle with a cat
wants to be part of a flock, I move closer
IV.
day three I made him a coop, Bucky by name
Becky if it’s a girl, I’m not checkin’, won’t go in
moving better, flies a little, short bursts
still prefers my perch, watch him sleep, still
hours to days, nothing seems to change
V.
the four-legged’s have found the coop and feed
I become my grandmother chasing chipmunks, futile
Bucky likes grass, hacksaw walk, double-banded
looks strong enough to fly, abandoned racer
wonder, is it psychological or could it me?
VI.
trail of seeds brought him to the edge, coop and me
as I watch him he watches me, wide ruddy eyes
huddles in a ball on one foot, freckled vest
finally, twice today he found his way to the coop
sad he can’t go home, sheltered but dispossessed.
VII.
animal rescuer Howard came with a net today
tried clumsily to catch him, lift and accelerate
over the treetops he flew, circled back to land
from the rooftop he smiled down at us, relieved
proof time heals all wounds, in rock pigeon world.
Aug 30/18
Park of unfenced wildness
densely packed in light infused summer
city folk beat paths of free spirited essence
park pigeons squat, survey seniors
in the grip of Tai Chi
to seize a different footing
orchestrated movement
Pigeons in an uncertain watch
wait
anticipating
trusting park folk to feed them
then launch in a flap fury of wings and cooing
to seniors' arms extended, open palms
Tai Chi posing
a tableau of food (mis-read)
open handed offerings?
absent
bird swarmed,
seniors shriek as in a Hitchcock film
their eroded routine
wellness check thwarted
push back 'gainst a flock,
shadowboxing the open air
seniors scatter
take flight in leaps fearful like space walk wandering
re-kindled voltage like lost sex energy lit
spectacle, in bird-winged fear
when movement's no longer the quiet order
we control
Poems composed July 13/2022
There once was a pigeon
Who lived in a cage
Its fluffy exterior
All tormented with rage.
The beaky beast ruled
The entire place
Scaring it's fellow creatures
Venom scribbled all over its face.
"PIGEON PIGEON!!!" all the other animals cried
Look what you've done
All the other pigeons have died.
Defiantly the pigeon stood firm
And puffed his chest out proud
"Can't you see from my actions
I stand out from the crowd!"
Later that day all the other birds devised a plan.
Ollie the owl who lived in the tree
Whispered to everyone
Had them chuckling with glee
To make a fool out of the pigeon
Was their plea.
Ollie the owl snook into his cage
Grabbed him by his talines
Plucking his feathers like a leaf of sage
Ernie the Eagle snatched him
And swiftly flew him into town
Without any care.
Mr Pigeon now shivering in disbelief
A fallen tyrant soon to be disceased
Ernie the Eagle now the thoughtful chief
Vowed not to speak of Pigeon the life thief.
The crippled pigeon
Who had the gift of love
Adopted three orphaned
Bunnies; sheltering
Them under her tiny wings
Love was in the air
With this tiny little dove
beware Picasso
my home is on great statues
expressing myself
Edward J. Ebbs - 5/16/15
Written for: PICTURE YOURSELF AS A BIRD - Poetry Contest, just for laughs
Do you know you have a brain?
Do you know the worlds insane?
Fluff your feathers, peck the ground,
While I think thoughts, that are so profound.
Sixty million years or so, you’ve been strutting to and fro,
Knowing nothing of you past, except where the last crumb was cast!
I know so much about you, where you’re from, your type of poo!
I'm like a God who knows your fate; you’re destined for my dinner plate.
You so thoughtless on your way, I'm evolved and here to stay.
I have history; I have sight- your tiny bowels are stuffed with white.
I envy you your little brain, way to small to go insane!
Like all the millions of your kind,
You see nothing with your mind.
Little Pigeon River
Little Pigeon River’s
water lullaby,
the flow’s soft percussion
against mossy green
rounded river rocks,
multi-layered,
contrapuntal,
a faint hiss,
tiny scrapings
as small stones
are settled into place
by the cold current,
my eyes heavy,
sleep waiting nearby.
Why do pigeon always poo
On the car you’ve polished new
Why do they wait ‘til you’ve gone indoors
Before they mess up all your floors
Maybe it’s a good thing it’s just pigeon poo
A seagull has too much to do
That’s after they’ve taken the stand
To snatch your food from out your hand
When outdoors you must wear a cap
Birds don’t care where they crap
Sorry my juvenile effort
Completed 16 May 2017
Two chubby pigeons sitting on a wall
One called Peter one called Paul
Reach for the rifle before they fly
Two juicy birds baked in a pie
Pigeon, plump and gray
Singing his song but off key
Perched on the park bench
Two of the wackiest guys I know,
live two doors down,
one flight below
Tall is one, the other is short
One chirps loud all the time ... one quietly coos
Tall wears a small hat,
Short sports big shoes
Bird Brain and Pigeon Toe,
they’re two of the silliest fellas I know
Those two ditzy, dunce Dodos
live two doors down,
one flight below
Two Heckle and Jeckles,
warbling so-and-so’s
One spring cleaning time,
my fair sparrow lady and turtledove me
were shaking a dust feather
at what we heard, but couldn’t believe —
Toe tapping on the Brain
with a combination of
Muhammad Ali - Fred Astaire pure artistry
The Pigeon was floating like a butterfly,
stinging like a bee ...
putting pain on the Brain’s cheek
While we kept shaking that dust feather
at what we still couldn’t believe;
we heard hawk flap sounds,
so stark raven noisy —
Bird woodpecking the Pigeon
with a fist pounding of
a knuckle Louisville Slugger, number 23
The Brain was tapping Morse Code bulls-eye
carvings on a tree ...
putting hurt on the Pigeon’s beak
Can you believe —
Two best friends fighting like worst enemies!
When the dust settled and the air cleared,
we really couldn’t believe
what our hummingbird ears just did hear —
Loud laughter mingled with drunken cheers,
of double-burping
out an open window
Coming from two doors down,
one flight below
They’re longtime best buds —
Two of the dimmer bulbs which glow,
that have a peacock taste
for the suds
Now you now know:
A pair of the quirkiest crow chums
who roof perch together,
wing elbow
Parakeet plucky park bench bums
Total cuckoo nest best buds
Fun loving,
boon-docking couch spuds
My neighboring parrot chime fellows:
Bird Brain and Pigeon Toe,
they live two doors down,
one flight below
Accident-prone
Waitress work is interesting and busy
It’s not fancy and puts you in a tizzy
On my feet all day long working
Carrying trays to customers that can be entertaining
No time for errors on full course dinners
We want the meals to be winners
People come and go
Some I know, some to the door I would like to show
Some have humors
Some are charmers
Some enjoying their food and think the service is just perfecto
Some are disgusted with both; I want to give them the heave-ho
I want to throw away my apron, I’m going wacko
Carrying a full tray I trip on a loose carpet
Food all over them and me on my butt I set
Fortunately, they were understanding didn’t make a racket
Felt like an idiot, I wanted to exit
Try not making it a habit
Pouring coffee, someone distracts, oh a bad mishap
Turn and pour it on the customer’s lap
A five dollar tip was left on my cap
That l’d left behind because of my mishap
I melted and hid, I actually felt like I was in a trap
Now I have to face the boss’s wrath
Can I survive the aftermath?
©4/27/2015
Contest: The Pigeon Who Flew the Coop
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
The pigeon lady makes her rounds
At seven in the morn.
About her feeding habits,
I must say that I am torn.
Along the promenade, which runs
Adjacent to the river,
She scatters seed which pigeons
Know each day that she’ll deliver.
They swoop in great big flocks to feed
And circle in the sky
Before they settle down to peck,
Ignoring passersby.
When finished with their meal, they roost
On benches and on railings,
Their droppings making quite a mess,
Among their biggest failings.
It’s cool to watch them fly in loops
And strut, like pigeons do,
Yet people lose their sitting spots,
Now flecked with pigeon poo.
The pigeon lady breaks the law
And risks a hefty fine.
To some, she is a hero;
Others think she’s crossed a line.
" I wandered lonely as a cloud "
~William Wordsworth ~
I wandered lonely as a pigeon, flying
Over towns, farms, lakes and trees.
With my wings outstretched, there's no denying
That I'm surfing on the breeze.
In this vast sky there's not a cloud to be seen.
Above me, ocean blue, beneath a luscious green.
I swoop down fast for I have noted
A generous scattering of seeds
From the hands of bird lovers devoted,
This will more than satisfy my needs!
I feast 'til I am full and round
And rest a while on the ground.
The early mist, the horizons haze
Puddles leave evidence of last night's rain.
Pastures sheep and cows do graze
Contented. Nearly time to fly again.
But first I take a drop or two
Revitalising morning dew.
After a splash my wings are spread.
Where to next? I ponder.
What more to admire overhead!
The endless sky I wander.
The clasped rings remind me to return home
Until I next explore lands free and alone.