Of Pigeons Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Of pigeons

Have received article
That talks of the pigeons:
"Do you want one at home? "

I answer with laughter:
"Yes, I do, " am expert.

I, then when teenager
Bought, flew my pigeons.

They are the kindest birds
Though somehow are senseless.

Took their eggs and exchanged
With two of the hens' eggs
Which, of course are larger.

Neither man nor woman
Rejected those big eggs.

Sat on them till they hatched,
Walked away two chickens,
On each face saw wonder,
Mesmerized were parents
With actions of chickens,
That, with me, has remained.

Unlike chicks of the birds
That are loose, pink flesh
New chicks did not wait
Went after life and said:
"The hell with the parents! "

Years are gone, many years,
No pigeon for decades
But never can forget
That day and those faces.

Misplaced were hen's chicks
So, remained small, meek,
Magicians with tricks.

They flew as if they
Did not have relation
With a normal chicken.

Yet, could not go too high,
Be pigeon and fly…

They were sort of the two
In book of "Scorched earth."

Their mother, quiet
And remained to her death
Till along came lawyer
And gave them two letters
They learned had brother
That was also father…

He had raped own mother
Strange is case of the father-brother!

My pigeons, hens, roosters
Acted almost the same…

Family they were but
Like orphans of London
Shipped away to become
Like Afghans in Moscow!

Doubtlessly such cases
Take us to child soldiers,
Kids, infants, children,
Being forced, encouraged.

Prefer shit, pigeons'
To amusing myself
By watching the TV
With the soap operas
That teach us to dislike!

I do welcome pigeons
For distancing myself
From mankind's action.