I wrote this several years ago in around 2003; it’s one of my college-era poems.
Crippled pigeon, half brown, half grey:
How have you hobbled through the day?
How have you safely through the throng
Hopped your way the long day long?
How have you gathered up the food
To keep you strong when you’re eschewed,
And scorned, or kicked and chased from sight
By vicious children, fearless wight?
Yet lent against the kerb you “stand”,
And then I but outreach my hand
And Lo! Ascending to the sky
No crippled pigeon, strong you fly.
© 2003, 2020 Bryan A. J. Parry
I wrote this in 2006, I believe.
It was early in the morning,
Not long after sunrise,
That I was trudging to my workplace,
Crusty sleep in eyes;
My sagging head was lowly hung,
My face was bleak and wan,
And then at once bold in my path
Was stood a snow-white swan.
A mother warding her dear child
Destroyed my pensive mood
(The swanling doddled ‘tween her legs
Canal bank grass for food).
Her breast was out, her neck was stiff,
Her eyes that shone were keen,
Her form was strong, unmoving
Save her eyes that had me seen;
And nearer by a couple glid
So calm, and peaceful, free,
With pink mouths ope and trumpeting
Their happy song to me,
My gloomy wallow was forgot
As joy and bliss and truth begot.
© 2006 – 2016 Bryan A. J. Parry
featured image from http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c3/Swan.spreads.wings.arp.jpg