Benjamin Posted December 19, 2012 Share Posted December 19, 2012 Old Bob died last week: the veteran of wars and widower of decades, had made his last sojourn. Three pints of ale, a gentle stroll home through the park, singing songs that drew him near to his dead wife and hypothermia. And I-- watched a hawk pull down a fat pigeon high in flight above the trees. Bisecting then dissecting with such ease, till just a ring of feathered tat remained as consolation-- for the sullen cat who'd arrived too late. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted December 19, 2012 Share Posted December 19, 2012 Life in all its red tooth glory. Life without a god. Loved the use of 'tat'. Hard and bleak. I like this poem. badge Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted December 20, 2012 Author Share Posted December 20, 2012 I sometimes wonder if we are evolving into a single hermaphroditic entity (audience and performers) with a compound eye ( media ) where everyone experiences almost everything by proxy. From a different world: the chorus of an old song by Harry Lauder....... Old Bob was 98. It's a fine thing to sing singing is the thing It brightens everything when dark and deary it helps you on the road when you have a heavy load singing is the thing to keep you cheery. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dedalus Posted December 21, 2012 Share Posted December 21, 2012 I think Bob in his time was more the hawk than the pigeon ... Nice one. Again. Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dansalinger Posted December 30, 2012 Share Posted December 30, 2012 Bob is clearly not the pigeon as he lived a full life and went out on his own terms... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dcmarti1 Posted January 3, 2013 Share Posted January 3, 2013 So many interconnected people here: Bob, vets, pub customers, wife, other people in the park (maybe), the author/voyeur, the animals. Truly, the interconnected web of all existence. I think creation, holiness, trinity, whatever, is in RELATIONSHIPS and not in numbers. Nice poem. Sullen cat. Brilliant. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Benjamin Posted January 3, 2013 Author Share Posted January 3, 2013 "the interconnected web of all existence." A most relevent comment dcmarti. Appreciated. B. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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