The Pigeon

With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe...

One night I studied, weak and weary, over tomes of quantum theory
Trying to decipher what it meant for physics’s laws
While a migraine starting stinging, all at once I heard a pinging
As of someone gently ringing, ringing at my flat’s front door
“’Tis some drunken fool,” I muttered, “Ringing at my flat’s front door
Only this and nothing more”

No clue what was to befall me, how those ideas could enthral me
The breakthroughs and the struggles of researchers gone before
As I sat absorbed in reading, concepts through my head were speeding
Brain on crazy theories feeding, feeding on Einstein and Bohr
Avidly digesting works of Einstein, Planck and Bohr
Craving to learn even more

While my pulse beat ever faster, apprehending much disaster
Through the spell there rang the bell again of my front door
Like a shard cut through my dreaming, through the notions and the scheming
Twisting through my mind and streaming, streaming with chaotic roar
Over the confused abstractions crying with chaotic roar
Loud the doorbell rang once more

When at last my door I’d unlocked, when the entrance hall I’d unblocked
What a bizarre creature landed on my parquet floor
Serious as true religion, feathers ruffled up a smidgeon
Into my flat there flew a pigeon, pigeon with much filth and gore
Ugly as a gargoyle’s mother, stinking of trash cans and gore
Difficult, that, to ignore

Once that bird had found a free perch then my mind returned to research
To the world of physics I was longing to explore
“Now this obsession hath befell me, an addiction to enspell me,
bird, I ask you, won’t you tell me, tell me pigeon I implore:
How long will last this compulsion? Tell me pigeon, I implore”
Quoth the pigeon, “Evermore.”

“Though I know that it’s imprudent, I shall become a grad student
A creature that the working world doth distain and abhor
Though it fills me with misgiving that is how I’ll earn my living,
From the research unforgiving, unforgiving and paid poor
Bird, how long shall I be overworked and far too poor?”
Quoth the pigeon “Evermore”

So here I sit at my computer hiding from my college tutor
Trying to do research cutting edge and quite hardcore
Trying not to waste time moping, looking for new ways of coping
And forever I’ll be hoping, hoping that the end’s in store
Hoping that a PhD at last's what lies in store
Else I’ll be here evermore.

3WW: shard, pulse, weary