Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, 18 June 2009

Are pigeons vain?


Probably not, but then let's think for a second of Piazza San Marco "The drawing room of Europe". For years now, pigeons expect tourists to extend their arms so that they sit on them and be photographed*. So can they be vain?

I think not. However can they adjust to the environment? For sure. San Marco such a touristic attraction as it has been for years, encouraged the birds to develop this habit. The compensation of course is what else but...

crumbs :-)



*My grandmother and two of her daughters have been taken pictures with pigeons sitting on them over their honeymoon.




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.

Charles Hice

Friday, 21 September 2007

The City


You said, "I will go to another land, I will go to another sea.
Another city will be found, better than this.
Every effort of mine is condemned by fate;
and my heart is -- like a corpse -- buried.
How long in this wasteland will my mind remain.
Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look
I see the black ruins of my life here,
where I spent so many years, and ruined and wasted."

New lands you will not find, you will not find other seas.
The city will follow you. You will roam the same
streets. And you will age in the same neighborhoods;
in these same houses you will grow gray.
Always you will arrive in this city. To another land -- do not hope --
there is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you have ruined your life here
in this little corner, you have destroyed it in the whole world.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1910)
 
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