Poems About The Sport Of Pigeon Racing

 
The Barcelona Marathon
 
the birds have been
on the wing for long
if not tonight then
another day involving
roosting upon foreign
spires as they seek
to return to me from
barcelona across the sea
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
The Late Bred
 
I'm a well - bred late bred
And properly managed
I'll get you early into bed
On the day I'm released
In the old bird National
Coupled with winning joy
Whether I'm a girl or a boy
That is if you don't overdo it
Celebrateing into the wee hours
For knowing you pigeoners
You like a pint, or a half, or two
In the wake of successful racers.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

 The Racing Pigeon
 
Crossing marathon and
Lesser distances over
Terrain of various type
On journeys back to
Palatial and other abodes,
Facing obstacles alive
And inanimate.
~
A unique example of ones
Love for ones home
Irrespective of the means
Of unravelling the reality
Of their release into
Environments unknown.
~
So let us toast the bird
Of all birds at the heart
Of the sport of all sports-
The sport of the gods-
That is the racing pigeon!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   
Death In Flight
 
The flock sped
back and forth,
spreading into
the distance,
and in turn
swooshing low
above the loft;
a daily ritual
prior to the
reception of a
mixture of grain.
~
Suddenly
it changed
its pattern
of flight,
rising higher
and higher
while circling
like a whirlwind.
Its erratic
behaviour
arising from the
presence of a
bird of prey.
~
The flock rose
as if to attack
its predator,
who in turn
rose higher
and higher,
rapidly flying
and then gliding;
a mesmerising
strategy which
scattered the flock
into ever widening
directions.
~
Thus the predator
with talons extending,
akin to the opening
undercarriage of
a plane, dived and
grasped its hapless
victim....
 
Liam O'Comain