A Dove Tale .

[Sir_Nigel 10]

The dove

- symbol of peace and love

was free

and was perched on the curtain rail looking at me.

 

For several days I had heard

the trapped bird

descending,

it’s doom impending.

Scraping, flapping,

spookily tapping,

at first thinking: Christ,

we got a poltergeist.

before wishing grimly:

Don’t die in my chimney.

 

Now the creature (which lives in a bird house next door)

had crapped on the sofa and crapped on the floor.

I sighed,

flung the doors wide

and pointed outside.

(I once faced a blackbird

in a similar position

which sensibly departed

of its own volition.)

But this bird wouldn’t go.

And I couldn’t reach it so,

I said Sod it.

And started to prod it

to try and persuade to find its way out,

with a toy plastic sword (which was lying about.)

 

I coaxed, cajoled and nudged

but it stubbornly wouldn’t be budged.

So I poked. Pushed. Jabbed.

Very nearly stabbed.

 

Then, tired of being whacked,

it attacked.

 

Thrashing, slashing,

man and bird clashing.

Fighting, smiting,

nearly broke the lighting.

 

White feathers were shed

in the battle overhead.

Yes I fought a dove -

symbol of peace and love.

 

Forever my name

will be tarnished with shame.

That’s him, they’ll say,

to the RSPCA.

 

This shabby affair has no honour or glory

The tale won’t be told in a fireside story.

No minotaur vanquished with courage and guile.

No dragon was slain on some desolate isle.

I didn’t emerge from it bloody and battered,

my sword in my hand, my enemies scattered,

to proclaim to the populace trembling in dread:

The kingdom is safe! Heed my foe’s severed head!

 

‘Cause it wasn’t a dragon - it was a dove -

recognised symbol of peace and love.

No fearsome beast

just the thing you fear least.

An unseemly affray,

then the dove flew away.

 

It now sits aloof

on a neighbour’s roof.

Seemingly unruffled

by the feathery scuffle.

 

Lucky, I feel,

that my sword wasn’t real

for how they’d complain

if I’d cleft it in twain.

But hey -

it’s OK.

It ran away.

We’ll save that idea for another day.

[G12Ravda 10]

Sir Nigel, thank you for forcing a smile on this miserable old clock.

Oh Lord above, I enjoyed The Dove.

I'll put your book on my Christmas stocking-filler list

& persuade my son/daughter to seek it out, for me.

G12

[Ron Blanco 10]

Really funny, Sir_N.

 

It reminds me of one Christmas when I was house-sitting for a friend and a pigeon fell down the chimney. It's beak poked through the grill of the gas fire, and I kept it alive by feeding it muesli and water for 3 days, until the plumber could come and dismantle the fire. I also chatted to the pigeon in order to keep up its spirits. It was eventually freed and I let it out into the garden. It flew off quite happily, but I wouldn't be surprised if it suffers from claustrophobia now.

 

Some really funny lines in your poem although you may have slightly soiled this symbol of peace and love. I am also drawn to your Cursory Rhymes, and a quick look inside shows a poem called "All Poets Are Puffs" which had me laughing just from the title.

[G12Ravda 10]

Thanks Ron. Your reply to Sir N. reminded me of a tongue-in-cheek ditty I sent to The Daily Mail, shortly after Carol Ann Duffy was made Poet Laureate. Their response was less than cordial.

It's called - Written in a huffy.

I've been writing poetry for bloody years, but got no recognition.

Now they've given a "lesbo" the Poet Laureate's position.

To rub it in, she's Scottish. Her name's Carol Ann Duffy.

I don't know what I'm doing wrong - perhaps I should be more puffy!

END

Edited November 9, 2010 by G12Ravda
Just tidying up.

[Sir_Nigel 10]

Glad you enjoyed this. Thanks for your comments.