The Pigeon

Written December, 2000
Dedicated to my beloved wife



This is an attempt to imitate the wonderful richness of allegory,
rhymes and rhythm in the Edgar Allan Poe poem "The Raven".


Once upon a dreadful morning, as I drowsily was yawning,
and the autumn day was dawning o'er the Westrogothian shore,
and I had to get up early with my tousled hair of curly
to fulfil my schedule just as is expected of a bore,
I was wondering how long all this would last without a cure
and my answer: "Evermore."

At the table, though not dining, I could feel my mind declining.
Blindingly the sun was shining, throwing patterns on my door.
Yes, I had to do my duty, make a living without beauty,
all alone with books and pens, just education to live for,
Dreams of fame that faded out and all my hope thrown to the floor,
this would last for evermore.

As I sat, my work pursuing, knowing not what I was doing,
suddenly there came a cooing which I had not heard before.
I was thinking of my classes - from behind the window glasses
then there was this sound that was too sweet and pleasant to ignore,
and I lifted up my eyes to see what now'd come to the fore
and a voice said "Evermore."

So I walked, in search for meaning, to the window I'd been cleaning.
After opening and leaning out (yes, like that Cuban whore)
I could see, behold, a creature that was marvellous of feature,
for it was a little pigeon, I could see it there for sure,
and its tapping on the window was so gentle, almost sore.
It kept saying "Evermore."

Bright and white was every feather, fitting perfectly together,
and its eyes like rainy weather meant this bird was clean and pure.
And it bore no sign of violence, or asocial fear and silence,
and its cooing was the opposite of urban lions' roar.
I said "Who are you who've come like this in times of strife and war?"
Quoth the pigeon, "Evermore."

Hearing this was quite confusing, at the same time, still, amusing,
and I no more felt like losing, got the chance t'improve my score.
In this pigeon I confided, hope for me the bird provided,
and I askd "Is there anything that life might have in store?
Will I ever see the unknown worlds and brand new days explore?"
Quoth the pigeon, "Evermore."

Given comfort from its saying, then I bent down as if praying.
With my heart the bird was playing, mental bastions down it tore.
Yes, it offered consolation, I felt love and admiration,
I saw silver hammered out right from my inner solid ore.
"Friend," I said, "are you a messenger from heaven of saints galore?"
Quoth the pigeon, "Evermore."

And the pigeon's fair repeating of this funny phrase of greeting
made me grateful for this meeting, I was no more insecure.
I said "Friend of far dimension, I do trust your good intention,
is it true you've come to save me from a life of fights and gore?
Do you have the wings to let me out on fluffy clouds to soar?"
Quoth the pigeon, "Evermore."

I continued, "Friend, I love you, I will always stand above you,
for in spite of being a dove you touch my heart like nothing more.
Beak and tail and wings for flying, and my love is never dying,
yes, I say that every part of you is lovely to adore,
and on this I swear. Will you return this oath that I just swore?"
Quoth the pigeon, "Evermore."

So I cleansed from books my study, and I offered all my body
as a sacrifice not bloody, to receive a better lore.
Like a lover and repenter then I let the pigeon enter,
and I asked, "Is this for aye or just a temporary cure?
Could you tell me now how long you'd like to stay behind my door?"
Quoth the pigeon, "Evermore."

Now I am no longer drifting, my whole mood of life is shifting
for the pigeon has been lifting me up from the dusty floor.
I'm no more a slave of duty, I have found a world of beauty
and a bird that is much better than the fame to live life for.
I am in a state of happiness I've never felt before,
and it lasts for evermore.
Yes, it lasts for evermore!





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2000 Jemima & Carl-Henrik Hammarlund. All rights reserved.