A peacock who rests on its feathers is just another turkey.
quote by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Turkey
Every Turkey wants to be a cow.
If they had it their way right now.
Every Turkey should immediately hide.
They should not ask a stranger for a ride.
Every Turkey should not give up a fight.
When the farmer trys to hold them tight.
Every Turkey should run real fast.
All of them are competing to be the very last.
Every Turkey should make a lot of noise.
So The farmers joy can't be immense.
Every turkey wishes you were a vegetarian.
Us turkey lovers are just not that mean.
Every Turkey is not able to say Happy Thanksgiving.
They are all to busy giving.
We all say thanks to God for their giving.
Who knows what a new year might bring.
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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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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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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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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He kills the peacock for the beauty of its feathers.
The peacock hath fair feathers, but a foul voice.
The peacock hath fair feathers, but foul feet.
Homage To The Turkey (Second Try) ....[Birds; American History]
I sent off as suggested, my first effort to my Italian friend Carmi.
She read it and then requested something 'lower key'; to me that's Irish blarney!
I had mentioned, first time, Ben Franklin's affection for The Turkey; she thought THAT was nice.
I didn't mind naming Ben the first time around; this will make it twice.
Ben was famous as a diplomat when America was newly 'free'.
He was also an inventor I believe. I think once he used a 'lower key'
while performing an experiment with lightning, Nature's electricity.
It involved using a kite, and a kite string on which was tied a key ('lower'?) .
But back to Turkey: Ben thought the native Turkey to be noble as could be.
Despite Ben's efforts, the Bald Eagle, instead, was picked as a symbol of 'The Land of The Free'.
I must admit I admire and enjoy seeing both birds I did now name,
but the Eagle's pictured on money and well protected, while the Turkey's wild game.
Turkeys can be quite majestic when they strut about, their feathers ruffled and spread,
but unlike the soaring Eagle, in turkey season a hunter may shoot a turkey dead.
Death would not be my preference for either of these noble birds. I wonder now
if Carmi is reading and enjoying at least some of my words.
I helped New York Conservation Department return Turkeys to my home state.
That was near Ithaca, where in the 1960's, no turkey had been seen of late.
I guess the effort worked. In late years I saw turkeys; Toms and at times a hen.
They probably emigrated from Pennsylvania, to the south, the state of dear old Ben.
I've never heard an eagle cry, but to hear a Turkey gobble from woods is thrilling.
Carmi I would have voted for The Turkey. Alas! The Eagle got top billing.
(Nov.2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
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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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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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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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Cold Turkey
Temperatures rising
Fever is high
Cant see no future
Cant see no sky
My feet are so heavy
So is my head
I wish I was a baby
I wish I was dead
Cold turkey has got me on the run
My body is aching
Goose-pimple bone
Cant see no body
Leave me alone
My eyes are wide open
Cant get to sleep
One thing Im sure of
Im in at the deep freeze
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Thirty-six hours
Rolling in pain
Praying to someone
Free me again
Oh Ill be a good boy
Please make me well
I promise you anything
Get me out of this hell
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Oh, oh, oh, oh
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Turkey
Temperature's rising
Fever is high
Can't see not future
Can't see no sky
My feet are so heavy
So is my head
I wish I was a baby
I wish I was dead
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Body is aching
Goose-pimple bone
Can't see no body
Leave me alone
My eyes are wide open
Can't get to sleep
One thing I'm sure of
I'm at the deep freeze
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Cold turkey has got me on the run
Thirty-six hours
Rolling in pain
Praying for someone
Free me again
Oh I'll be a good boy
Please make me well
I promise you anything
Get me out of this hell
Cold turkey has got me on the run
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turkish Heritage Departing
To return at last from Turkey
with my memories safely stored
between thin clear plastic pages.
This is all I want from Turkey
where youth and beauty are bled
lifeblood devalues faster than wages.
This is all I take from Turkey
where youth and beauty were bet
and currency falls faster than wages.
To return at last from Turkey.
It is 1991 the Gulf War is done.
Oil oils profit wars under desert sun.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Angry Sea
a boy sits
behind the angry sea
the artist captures
such anger
it's like a peacock
white
its feathers spreading
behind
the fears of the boy
it is indeed
an anger so beautiful
and unless you see it
then you
can understand...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As A Moon Tries To Be A Sun!
as a turkey tries to be a peacock,
showing its short colorless plumage,
as a cat tries to be a tiger,
showing its canine to terror the rats,
the slimy worms lift their heads,
to show their tiny body thinking as cobras,
a dirty moon tries to be a sun,
flashing the reflected fading light.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Gobble Gobble 4
This is a special time
we celebrate each year
Honey, something in your eye
or could that be a tear
The past is the past
this year I'll behave
Are you disgusted
or starting the wave
I know in the past
I have let you down
You told me last year
I played a naked clown
I may not remember
all the things I've done
But you know of Turkeys
all call me number one
Yep, I'm a Turkey
that I proudly admit
But I can't be a Turkey
if no one pitches a fit
So I guess you could say
that I do it all for you
You see, Turkeys may GOBBLE
but like all, they need Love too
This Thanksgiving remember
if your Turkey plays the part
He would not be a Turkey
if he were not in your heart
Terry M
Dropped by a Peacock
I can no more justify these poems
than can the pyromaniac
his conflagrations. We both
stand back, the pyromaniac
in his alley, I on my hill,
each of us loving
the leap of our flames.
His are gazelles but mine
are just feathers
dropped by a peacock.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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