“Vermin!!!”
“Rat of the sky!!!”
“Flea-ridden disease carrier!!!!”

I hear there vicious taunts,
I’m not pretty enough to flaunt my plume,
But I’m smart,
I am central to London; we are the works of art,
They try to move us on,
For some time now we’ve been gone,
But don’t forget that out of sight,
We pigeons take our magic flight.

“Vermin!!!”
“Rat of the sky!!!”
“Flea-ridden disease carrier!!!”

I watched from the mountain top,
My hair was moved by the breeze and my heart stopped,
I turned to see an Eagle taking flight,
Golden and vigorous as if bathed in sunlight,
Two metres of softest feather covered its precious wings,
I listened to its haunting call that in my ear did ring,
It glided like a kite but with sublime elegance,
It knew it was beautiful – it had that arrogance,
It strutted in the air like a man on a high,
That night I dreamt I was up there learning how to fly.

A dead corpse of a zebra,
The lions move away,
They feast seventh in line like Libra,
Circling and swooping and keeping a watchful eye.

Round and round,
Down and down.

Their wings slicing through the air,
Eyes focused on the meal,
They rip and tear until none is there,
Blood falling from their beaks as their black feathers quake.

Out across the open lakes I stare,
Transfixed by the colour,
Grace and dignity; relaxed with no cares,
Pink plumes could get no fuller.

A swan sparkling with more class,
The brightness against the barren African plain,
The power of the landscape is hard to pass,
But the ocean of pink alights the darkest of grain.

Crack the ice,
I want to fish,
I want to swim in the cold waters,
Watch me swim with my friends,
Side by side we toddle to the ledge,
Shining white with the snow,
And tarnishing the landscape with black,
We tarnish purity,
Yet remain pure and free,
A lesson to learn,
Of black together with white,
A sensational diversity.

I am named wrong,
They don’t care,
Those humans who decide everything,
Do I look like a Stag with Antlers?
NO…my mandibles are strong and proud,
I’m a grand beetle,
Royal and fearsome (in appearance),
But don’t worry I won’t hurt you.

I’m not a Cricket or a Locus,
We don’t even look the same,
My antennae are far shorter,
And my wings are pointless,
I jump…no…hop,
I hop from place to place,
I make a noise much sweeter,
And drive them all insane.

All the birds they want me,
And the Adders too,
But I’m much smarter than those fools,
They don’t get near me,
I’m not afraid for my life,
Though I don’t live long,
I know that I’m a leaper,
And I’d better hop along.