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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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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.
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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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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What the peacock has too little on his head, he has too much on his tail.
A peacock has too little in its head, too much in its tail.
A peacock has too little in its head and too much in its tail.
fanning out its tail
in the spring breeze,
see—a peacock!
haiku by Masaoki Shiki
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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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The Peacock
A peacock spreads tail:
What a colorful display
On this cloudy day!
poem by Asif Andalib
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In man’s eyes
He moves as proud as a peacock
And is viewed as stupid as a turkey.
She looks as proud as a peacock
And is viewed as royal as a mare.
Woman’s pride sells well in man's eyes.
02.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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An old Peacock meets a Crow in a Cuckoo's wedding
'Hello! Brother we met after a long time.
Isn't it? ' Peacock greeted.
Then the crow said; 'Certainly, do you remember when we met last time at one eyed scavenger's funeral.'
'Oh! You have a good memory,
He drowned in the Mayor's sewage line if I am not mistaken.
What's going on in your proud city limits? ' Peacock gossiped.
'As usual, We get a scanty meal in the garbage bins on their pay days only.' Crow replied.
Cuckoo introduced his bride to old Peacock.
Then crow interrupted; 'She is my niece.'
Peacocks, Crows and Cuckoos sing the national anthem when the chief guest Mr.Anopheles.Mosquito Minister of Health who arrives with his
bodyguards.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Purple World
If all of a peacock was purple
It would be a star—
No cerulean or evergreen—
No place for
Mermaids to admire it—
Purple fanning underneath the sun,
Showing all of the tourists—
All of the housewives that he is
A man—maybe if they could love
Through an everyday metamorphosis,
They would wish upon him—
To feed him popcorn
And to make love to him—
The usual hijinks between the orchards
And the highways—in the singing
Prisons where they they—
But it is not possible for them to think of
Him as anything else than a peacock,
Even if all of purpled fanned—
Though he is more beautiful than them—
And at night,
After the busses leave the animals naked
Underneath the heartthrob heavens,
He will count dreams to himself in
His purple world—
Think of all of the women he could have
Married—
If he were not only a peacock, a star in
The purple world.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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The Peacock
A pleasant stroll,
The peacock takes
On its way back,
Each evening.
The sun has set;
The moon has come;
The air is cool;
’Tis twilight time!
The peacock walks
Effortlessly,
Amongst house-sites,
On lanes of own.
All through the way,
It feeds on leaves
That sprouted new,
A few days’ old!
A feast to eyes
Of young and old,
The peacock runs
On seeing men.
A hardy bird
With colored plumes
That gives its stroll,
A majesty.
Across the fence,
Over the bush,
It gently flies,
If need should rise.
It makes no noise,
On way back home;
It has walked miles
Unknowingly!
No snake dare near
The alert bird
That wards off foes
By flying low.
And when it’s dawn,
The dancing starts
On terraces,
As pea-hens watch!
The national bird
Of India,
Is protected:
‘So, please don’t kill! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-6-2010
poem by John Celes
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Stone and Peacock
Lend me a stone
I'll lend you a peacock
What you see in the picture, In reality you'll not
When our reality be in those pictures? ?
Look into the face of the sun
Seven colors seems flying, like a peacock
I once asked the sun
Seven horses drawn, Chariot of your, where to heading? ?
'Into the battle', replied the sun
In the battle, don't grief of what you lost
Look deep into the faceof the sun
Those stones were shaping swords sharp and shiny
Sun did borrowed it from my great grand father
Today I'm out into the battle ground
Its time now, I need that sword back
Look very deep into the face of the sun
Those stones were shaping my Great Grandfather's swords sharp and shiny
You lend me that stone
And
I'll lend you a seven colored peacock………
poem by D'menz Veen
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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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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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Neatness In Apparel
In your garb and outward clothing
A reservëd plainness use;
By their neatness more distinguished
Than the brightness of their hues.
All the colours in the rainbow
Serve to spread the peacock's train;
Half the lustre of his feathers
Would turn twenty coxcombs vain.
Yet the swan that swims in rivers,
Pleases the judicious sight;
Who, of brighter colours heedless,
Trusts alone to simple white.
Yet all other hues, comparëd
With his whiteness, show amiss;
And the peacock's coat of colours
Like a fool's coat looks by his.
poem by Charles Lamb
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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