Its a fine thing to sing

[Benjamin]

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.

[badger11]

Life in all its red tooth glory. Life without a god.

 

Loved the use of 'tat'.

 

Hard and bleak. I like this poem.

 

badge

[Benjamin]

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.

[dedalus]

I think Bob in his time was more the hawk than the pigeon ...

Nice one. Again.

[dansalinger]

Bob is clearly not the pigeon as he lived a full life and went out on his own terms...

[dcmarti1]

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.

[Benjamin]

"the interconnected web of all existence." A most relevent comment dcmarti. Appreciated. B.