Catch that Pigeon

[Keith]

I used to feel as smart
as a done up top button,
always sat up straight
for the spare milk.
But collars get tighter,
long days turn quietly into nights,
bath-times fall flat and tepid,
bed-times read by themselves.

I exaggerated my responsibilities,
the fountain of all knowledge,
drank my youth without immortality,
gulped down from the hard worker's
poison challis.

So now they ask and I tell them,
they ask again so I show them.
Each day my pigeon flies out the window
and returns with messages.
So I sit in the dark and read them,
I pick up my phone and I leave them,
I feed him each day with dry crumbs
and look out across the city.

He tells me what it's like,
what he's seen, the sights
beneath the freedom of tired flight
out over the skyline, down the tracks
into the country, washing high
over the coast, taking time to rest.

I turn off my desk lamp,
lock some papers in the drawer
and hope that one day he wont come back.

[just mercedes]

Hi Keith - I like your imagery, but I'm not altogether sure of what the pigeon represents - the fligh of imagination? I like the contradiction I feel in 'the freedom of tired flight' and the image of someone sitting closed off from the world, relying on messages to get a sense of it. Not sure of the line 'I pick up my phone and I leave them', and can't understand why the narrator, who seems to connect with the world only through the pigeon, would hope he wouldn't come back.

[nibbed]

Hi Keith, I liked your poem. I don't know why it is being buried, though. It deserves more notice.


I used to feel as smart
as a done up top button,
always sat up straight
for the spare milk.                                    i REALLY liked these first four lines
But collars get tighter,                              i wondered if collars referred to the costliness of organized religion
long days turn quietly into nights,            this indicates the typical life
bath-times fall flat and tepid,                     wondering if the last two in this S refer to children grown or no children
bed-times read by themselves.

I exaggerated my responsibilities,             wasn't honest maybe
the fountain of all knowledge,                   the internet, this is where I get tangled
drank my youth without immortality,       drank, gulped & fountain
gulped down from the hard worker's
poison challis.                                            coffee

So now they ask and I tell them,
they ask again so I show them.                they is the mystery, unless you refer to people watching or curious
Each day my pigeon flies out the window  pigeons are gentle.
and returns with messages.
So I sit in the dark and read them,
I pick up my phone and I leave them,
I feed him each day with dry crumbs
and look out across the city.                      he is well fed

He tells me what it's like,
what he's seen, the sights
beneath the freedom of tired flight          
out over the skyline, down the tracks      
into the country, washing high
over the coast, taking time to rest.

I turn off my desk lamp,
lock some papers in the drawer
and hope that one day he wont come back.  maybe he hopes, too. maybe it's instinct that brings him back.
                                                            


I like pigeons okay, until they poop where it's not good, and then I don't like them...but only for awhile. I think they are enough the same as doves. Gentle, but sometimes you get those tough ones from the city that accidentally ate a cigarette butt and they are more ruffled and grouchy, though still lovely and soft because they are, afterall, pigeons. Maybe pigeons are more like a dove that didn't have a bath in long time, or never had a bath, because people don't put out birdbaths like they once did. When I was 5 or 6 my brother taught me to make dove calls. He taught me to cup my hands just so and bend my thumbs and blow at just the perfect angle, and it sounds just like a dove! Sometimes if I am riding my bike and I see a dove on a wire I will stop and talk to him. And he will turn his head or blink, seems he's curious as how this big ugly human can do that, and I make a friend. He never flies away, it's me that leaves. He stays there and watches me pedal away not knowing a bit how I am smiling or crying and remembering my brother.

You have given me a blessing, but that is your gift, the gift you have.
Thank you for sharing.

janine

[vagabond]

I used to feel as smart
as a done up top button,    a nice image in connection/ contrast with smart
always sat up straight
for the spare milk.           first 4 lines make an image of self-confidence and effort
But collars get tighter,
long days turn quietly into nights,
bath-times fall flat and tepid,     the meaning of bath-times escapes me but flat and trepid seem good metaphors for slowly fading endurance under stress and little reward (spare milk).
bed-times read by themselves.

I exaggerated my responsibilities,
the fountain of all knowledge,            here I don´t quite see how a fountain of knowledge is one´s responsability and where it came from if it´s even real
drank my youth without immortality,   strong line, suggestion to consider the immortality of youth while it´s best
gulped down from the hard worker's    
poison challis.

So now they ask and I tell them,     who´s they, the younger?
they ask again so I show them.      in my opinion this line´s not necessary even if it were there to indicate a switch to some parable with the pigeon as subject
Each day my pigeon flies out the window
and returns with messages.
So I sit in the dark and read them,
I pick up my phone and I leave them,    quite a break, that phone! (at least in the story I´d come up with). makes me wonder which is the better connection to the world and why.
I feed him each day with dry crumbs
and look out across the city.     

He tells me what it's like,
what he's seen, the sights
beneath the freedom of tired flight         just for the sake of the flow I´d leave "beneath" out.
out over the skyline, down the tracks
into the country, washing high
over the coast, taking time to rest.      "rest" and " tired" weigh  the freedom down a lot in this stanza 

I turn off my desk lamp,
lock some papers in the drawer
and hope that one day he wont come back.   I´d see that as a slightly hopeful ending (because I like them)

like the development and thoughts in this one.

[Keith]

Hi Keith - I like your imagery, but I'm not altogether sure of what the pigeon represents - the fligh of imagination? I like the contradiction I feel in 'the freedom of tired flight' and the image of someone sitting closed off from the world, relying on messages to get a sense of it. Not sure of the line 'I pick up my phone and I leave them', and can't understand why the narrator, who seems to connect with the world only through the pigeon, would hope he wouldn't come back.

Thank you mercedes I see the confusion, so this feedback is really helpful I will try and revise for clarity. Best Keith

---

Hi Keith, I liked your poem. I don't know why it is being buried, though. It deserves more notice.


I used to feel as smart
as a done up top button,
always sat up straight
for the spare milk.                                    i REALLY liked these first four lines
But collars get tighter,                              i wondered if collars referred to the costliness of organized religion
long days turn quietly into nights,            this indicates the typical life
bath-times fall flat and tepid,                     wondering if the last two in this S refer to children grown or no children
bed-times read by themselves.

I exaggerated my responsibilities,             wasn't honest maybe
the fountain of all knowledge,                   the internet, this is where I get tangled
drank my youth without immortality,       drank, gulped & fountain
gulped down from the hard worker's
poison challis.                                            coffee

So now they ask and I tell them,
they ask again so I show them.                they is the mystery, unless you refer to people watching or curious
Each day my pigeon flies out the window  pigeons are gentle.
and returns with messages.
So I sit in the dark and read them,
I pick up my phone and I leave them,
I feed him each day with dry crumbs
and look out across the city.                      he is well fed

He tells me what it's like,
what he's seen, the sights
beneath the freedom of tired flight          
out over the skyline, down the tracks      
into the country, washing high
over the coast, taking time to rest.

I turn off my desk lamp,
lock some papers in the drawer
and hope that one day he wont come back.  maybe he hopes, too. maybe it's instinct that brings him back.
                                                            


I like pigeons okay, until they poop where it's not good, and then I don't like them...but only for awhile. I think they are enough the same as doves. Gentle, but sometimes you get those tough ones from the city that accidentally ate a cigarette butt and they are more ruffled and grouchy, though still lovely and soft because they are, afterall, pigeons. Maybe pigeons are more like a dove that didn't have a bath in long time, or never had a bath, because people don't put out birdbaths like they once did. When I was 5 or 6 my brother taught me to make dove calls. He taught me to cup my hands just so and bend my thumbs and blow at just the perfect angle, and it sounds just like a dove! Sometimes if I am riding my bike and I see a dove on a wire I will stop and talk to him. And he will turn his head or blink, seems he's curious as how this big ugly human can do that, and I make a friend. He never flies away, it's me that leaves. He stays there and watches me pedal away not knowing a bit how I am smiling or crying and remembering my brother.

You have given me a blessing, but that is your gift, the gift you have.
Thank you for sharing.

janine

Hey Janine
Thank you for your feedback and kind words I will have a look at sorting out some of the confusion. I think you could use the details of your comment to write your own poem about pigeons real ones that is. Best Keith

---

I used to feel as smart
as a done up top button,    a nice image in connection/ contrast with smart
always sat up straight
for the spare milk.           first 4 lines make an image of self-confidence and effort
But collars get tighter,
long days turn quietly into nights,
bath-times fall flat and tepid,     the meaning of bath-times escapes me but flat and trepid seem good metaphors for slowly fading endurance under stress and little reward (spare milk).
bed-times read by themselves.

I exaggerated my responsibilities,
the fountain of all knowledge,            here I don´t quite see how a fountain of knowledge is one´s responsability and where it came from if it´s even real
drank my youth without immortality,   strong line, suggestion to consider the immortality of youth while it´s best
gulped down from the hard worker's    
poison challis.

So now they ask and I tell them,     who´s they, the younger?
they ask again so I show them.      in my opinion this line´s not necessary even if it were there to indicate a switch to some parable with the pigeon as subject
Each day my pigeon flies out the window
and returns with messages.
So I sit in the dark and read them,
I pick up my phone and I leave them,    quite a break, that phone! (at least in the story I´d come up with). makes me wonder which is the better connection to the world and why.
I feed him each day with dry crumbs
and look out across the city.     

He tells me what it's like,
what he's seen, the sights
beneath the freedom of tired flight         just for the sake of the flow I´d leave "beneath" out.
out over the skyline, down the tracks
into the country, washing high
over the coast, taking time to rest.      "rest" and " tired" weigh  the freedom down a lot in this stanza 

I turn off my desk lamp,
lock some papers in the drawer
and hope that one day he wont come back.   I´d see that as a slightly hopeful ending (because I like them)

like the development and thoughts in this one.

Hi Vagabond
Thank you for commenting on this with such a considered reply, very much appreciated. I think I can work with most of your suggestions so you have given me a clear focus in the edit. Best Keith