A Dignity
as the peacock
struts its fan of feathers
like a rainbow
in the barnyard
the hen keeps its
own home
protecting its chicks
around its feathers
from the invasion of
the rat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feathers!
feathers on me
again and again
first to fly and now to earth rest
enable me to get ready
and carried me through you
anywhere there are feathers
like you said!
in me in you!
a very strange and intoxicating feeling
afterwards, that you traced my body
maybe i have gasp, of some lack of air!
in high feather, full feathers
you will be writhing with ecstacy
Very pleasurable for me
I feel extremely good
you make me a path a invisible way
eagle feathers very powerful
sound bird feathers very delicate
for tight places or open places
make his sound so soft
Ah! My God! ! !
give me the name of that medicine!
Feathers on me!
Feathers on you!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Teardrop
Liz fraser
(love)love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Feathers on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me makes me lighter
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
In the night of matter
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Black flowers blossom
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Water is my eye
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire of a confession
Feathers on my breath
Most faithful my love
Feathers on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Feathers on my breath
Stumbling a little (x2)
song performed by by Massive Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peacock
Regal in blue green feathers
Spread like a giant royal fan
He swoons a peahen lady lover
And hopes to win her if he can.
As he proudly struts about
He tries to catch attention
No other suitor so devout
Would court in such a fashion.
The peacock is magnificent
A feathered work of art
A lovely entertainment
His courtship does impart!
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In painting feathers, you want to create the look of feathers, but if you try to paint all the feathers, you have nothing but disaster.
quote by John O'Neill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Love Is Winged For Two
Love is winged for two,
In the worst he weathers,
When their hearts are tied;
But if they divide,
O too true!
Cracks a globe, and feathers, feathers,
Feathers all the ground bestrew.
I was breast of morning sea,
Rosy plume on forest dun,
I the laugh in rainy fleeces,
While with me
She made one.
Now must we pick up our pieces,
For that then so winged were we.
poem by George Meredith
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He kills the peacock for the beauty of its feathers.
A peacock who rests on its feathers is just another turkey.
quote by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The peacock hath fair feathers, but a foul voice.
The peacock hath fair feathers, but foul feet.
I'm one of those people who was taught not to ruffle any feathers. Of course, I have no problem ruffling feathers.
quote by Anne Heche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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They're Plucking Feathers From Each Other's Struts
The only thing one can expect to come from quacks
Is something tossed from a mouth one should duck
Or stay stuck
Trying to absorb the nonsense thrown
They're plucking feathers from each other's struts
All over the place and in unsuspecting faces to see
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Kevin Costner has feathers in his hair and feathers in his head. The Indians should have called him 'Plays with Camera.'
quote by Pauline Kael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Feather Of Yuri
if a dove leaves a feather
white,
pure,
it does not just tell you that
it was once here
it tells you also of another thing
that there is a good reason
for keeping
something like a memory
the sweet one
it does not tell you
to discard pain
but to remember everything
and learn
like you i am not a dove
does not speak the language of doves
does not have feathers
to leave for some people i love
to remember
but i have some pieces of me
some memories
some pieces of my mind and they are not feathers
though they may
like feathers be
light, soft, pure, and beautiful
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never let the 'Hope' die...!
Hopes are feathers, a wish is a bird
One may find this simile a little absurd
Hold on, do not lose patience
As I will explain to you the essence
Behind this there is a theory
I shall relate this with a story
Feathers, they keep the bird warm
Likewise hopes keep our wishes strong
Clip the feathers and the bird will not fly
Were it not for hope our wishes would die
My fellow beings, listen to what i have to say
Keep on hoping, what you wish for will come your way
Let your wishes, as birds, freely fly
As long as your hope, you never let die.
poem by Ravi Singh
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To John Clare
Well, honest John, how fare you now at home?
The spring is come, and birds are building nests;
The old cock-robin to the sty is come,
With olive feathers and its ruddy breast;
And the old cock, with wattles and red comb,
Struts with the hens, and seems to like some best,
Then crows, and looks about for little crumbs,
Swept out by little folks an hour ago;
The pigs sleep in the sty; the bookman comes--
The little boy lets home-close nesting go,
And pockets tops and taws, where daisies blow,
To look at the new number just laid down,
With lots of pictures, and good stories too,
And Jack the Giant-killer's high renown.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Sweet View From My Window...
the rain starts to fall
the red hen runs
towards the mango tree
the leaves are thick and
the trunk is old and tall
ten little chicks
red and yellow follow
the tracks of the red hen and
then seek shelter under her feathers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds.
Aesop in The Jay and the Peacock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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