A peacock has too little in its head, too much in its tail.
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What the peacock has too little on his head, he has too much on his tail.
A peacock has too little in its head and too much in its tail.
The tulip is, among flowers, what the peacock is among birds. A tulip lacks scent, a peacock has an unpleasant voice. The one takes pride in its garb, the other in its tail.
A Peacock
a peacock meets a peahen
on a grassy garden
'what the hell' says the peahen
to the peacock
the peacock asks
'why the hell? '
and the peahen
snobs the peacock
and says
'yours is just a peasize! '
and the peahen leaves
the peacock for good
and they know
they cannot live
happily ever after
for sure
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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fanning out its tail
in the spring breeze,
see—a peacock!
haiku by Masaoki Shiki
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A New Flair
and so the peacock having
survived from a
broken wing
(sigh! it could have
been a broken heart)
now rises up
from the bushes
struts head high on the
park
under the trees
and fans herself with her
multicolored tail
i could not help
(identifying
myself with her)
and i said directly from
spontaneous
instinct,
' I like this
beautiful bird'
how i wish somehow that like
an eagle
it can also learn the art of flying
and trick the
air
with its new
flair.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Peacock
A peacock spreads tail:
What a colorful display
On this cloudy day!
poem by Asif Andalib
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The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of its tail.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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PUZZLED for Leslie Alexis
The peacock parades exquisitely.
Displays the glory of his tail,
the hens ignore him easily.
This bold display was bound to fail
The peacock has misjudged his time.
The hens aren’t ready to be wooed.
Although he thinks he is sublime
it’s not the time for hens to brood.
He’s young and inexperienced.
As yet he does not understand,
his tiny brain still hasn’t sensed.
The hens not he are in command.
The females don’t appreciate
his urgency he’ll have to wait.
20-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The leader is born
What do you want to be:
the tail of a lion
or the head of a rat?
Tail is fragile and safe.
Head is a bonnet and braving.
Some are tails, and trail behind.
Some are heads, and plunge ahead.
A leader is born and not made.
31.12.2000, pmdi.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Tiger By The Tail
What a shock it was so surprising
You looked so small and frail
I didnt know what to do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
People said that you must be joking
You let emotions run away with you
I realized a little too late
I bit off more than I could chew
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
At times life can be so enlightening
But it can turn on you
Lately it gets so complicated i
I dont know what the tiger will do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mermaid
Yet, there it as-
An image composed of droplets mustering into focus
Reversible. Itself of itself the watery isomer.
Idea given substance, however tenuous and fading-
Tail, head, tail, tail, head.
An ancient enigma, certainly not pretty
But in sum, bewitching.
Had it power over flesh, could it see me?
Only indirectly, I recalled, as in the water's mirror,
And I must desire it first.
'Choose', said the hologram, sternly, from its higher station.
It was as if a hand had suddenly cupped my head.
But what part of the mermaid was I?
The muscular tail that could knock a man clear
Across a quarterdeck, against the rail?
A treacherous tail with a fornix?
Dumbly pummeling the floorboards, waterborne no more,
Spectral hues revived with a bucket of sea-water
Sparkled like a Roman grotto?
Judgement recoiled from the notion.
No, I would not!
The sickening barnacles, sea worts, the loathesome remoras,
Flukes, raggedy, gummed with oily beads
Always needing combing, combing, combing-
I touched my...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Weird-Bird
from the wire chirp
on the wire chirp
frantic head
to and fro
to and fro
chirp, chirp, chirp
little bird on a wire
head and beak
to and fro
to and fro
ten times in a second
tail up, tail down, tail up, tail down
the tight feathered bodice
doing a twist
legs angled tight on tiny wire
a tightrope walker
chirp, chirp, chirp
looking for some fun
looking for a companion to share its day
chirp, chirp, chirp
inspired by
Weird-Bird
Birds are flyin' south for winter.
Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north,
Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin',
Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth.
He says, 'It's not that I like ice
Or freezin' winds and snowy ground.
It's just sometimes it's kind of nice
To be the only bird in town.'
Shel Silverstein
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Sonnet: Nothing Is Permanent
Some friends have left; some more are leaving too;
To greener pastures, grass, more succulent;
I wonder when comes turn to me, to you;
And if it comes, I'm sure, we won't relent.
'Tis sad that people never realize,
That all Indians are brothers and sisters;
And yet they cheat them by the game of dice;
Tho' honesty in this world sure matters.
'Ask not what your country has done for you;
Ask what you have done for it”-it is said;
The reverse saying with time becomes true;
For life is short before each one is dead.
If head is right, the tail will wag but slight;
If tail is right, the head can't show its might.
poem by John Celes
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Hubris' Grand Display Of Feathers
and so pride stands there
like a peacock
displaying its grand tail
with all its blue pupils
green eyelashes
and all the people who view it
are unanimous in saying
that this is pure folly
stupid display
dumb expression
contentious zilch.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Their Own Myth
They swagger through the wastelands
of their own myth
believing the fantasy
they have built around themselves
of how great they are.
The shallow walls they built around themselves
with one stone could crumble away.
You see them in their peacock glory
prancing around everywhere.
Their heads stretched above the clouds
believing their own myth.
Their feet of clay can only erode
in the full flush of tidal waters.
Their peacock strut will become a limp
when their myth is broken
and things begin to challenge them.
For once, the tidal gate
is breached by leading questions
the clay feet and peacock strut
will be washed away,
and a new myth will absorb,
of bowing head and desperate look in eyes,
as their shallow walls crumble under tidal waters
and their own myth of self-greatness
loses momentum to sustain.
poem by David Harris
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The Little Slit in the Tail
I’M GLAD that the Bushmen can’t see me now
A-doing it tall in the town;
I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun-burnt brow—
And my collar jumps up and down.
I’m wearing a vest that would charm a snake,
And a tie like a lost soul’s wail;
And I’m dressed in a coat of the latest make,
With a little slit in the tail:
With a little slit in the tail of it,
With a little slit in the tail.
My pants alone are a thing of joy,
And they’re built to show my bends,
With a crease behind and a crease before,
And a little curl in the ends.
I carry my nose-rag in my cuff,
And the lot should get me gaol—
I paid five guineas for my rig-out,
And one for the slit in the tail:
For the little slit in the tail of it,
For the little slit in the tail.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Proud Peacock
I am the Peacock,
the beautiful bride
of the bird kingdom.
I am in no doubt
fairer than the cock
for I dwarf its pride
with feathers that stand-out.
I am the Peacock
who desires serfdom
from the bird kingdom,
for I long to usurp
the title of king
from the strong Eagle
who soars atop
with its air-borne wings.
Though fit as fiddle
with an awesome strength,
gliding the sky’s length
at a blistering pace,
yet dreaded for a face
that is void of grace.
I am the Peacock,
the elegantly clad.
Humans would be mad
to contend with me,
for shame you would see
if unclad they be.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (19 January 2015)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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Agenda
In a brief briefings
We the animals and me
Assemble to corner the evils
the deer give a motion, from now on
we will not kill others and ban eating their flesh
but toad with its big head stands up and says,
we can eat everything but not grass think please about us,
snake puts up its hood and supports the toad as this fits its own agenda,
peacock with glee puts its hands up too and says lets us pass quickly the bill,
so that we can kill and make a feast out of their flesh and the peacock's first prey in front of me
is the snake, I am ashamed of the act that I can not protect the snake, from now then I hate myself.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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