I am a pigeon but none cares or knows
my friends forsake me like a memory loss
alone in the garden I'm consumed by woes
my family flies in oblivious host
Gethsemane's throes unknown to most
and yet still I live - I'm not yet toast
Into the void of scorn and noise
into the living hell of wakeful dreams
no sense of able-bodied feathered life or joys
on a wing and a prayer my life's esteems
those lofty hopes engulfed by silent screams
are shattered sinew shot - but broken dreams
I long for scenes this pigeon never trod
despite the angel woman aiding me adept
soon I'll abide with my creator, God
and sleep as nestlings oh so sweetly slept
untroubling and untroubled where I lie
the grass below me - aloft the vaulting sky
Based on a theme 'I am' by John Clare. A lame pigeon is cared for
by a kind lady in a Northamptonshire garden,
grounded and fated never to fly again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hey Mr Carden! Its Daisy and Beth from your old maths class. We miss your and your poems, hope you're doing well and have a nice Christmas :)