A winsome weave, simple and real,
Warp and weft; a tight twill,
A weaverbird’s nest, strong and snug,
With soft crossways and tumphy tug.
Subtle cozy patterns, seldom revealed,
Cynical twists like waves unsealed,
The mirror of peafowl’s courtship field.
Matchless display by the peacock,
Dance elevated by love, rattle of feathers in rhythmic clock,
Enticing and dazing the hens, with a silent poise,
All while rivals raise their voice.
Waking incredible train rattle, a sharper dance,
Initial plumage grandeur, a healthier glance,
Peahens’ basics caught in a stance.
Beautifully woven, a rhythmic tapestry,
Wales ranged in a rolling plain spree,
Richly captivating...lines of love,
Crowned with bliss by the brave thereof.
Categories:
peafowl, beautiful, beauty, environment, extended
Form: Rhyme
Peacock
Bright feathers
Graceful and proud
Rainbow shimmering in sun
Beautiful
Beautiful
Male peafowl
Magnificent courting display
Elegance in every motion
Majestic
Majestic
Iridescent plumage
Tall and slender
National bird of India
Revered
Revered
Timeless treasure
Feathers like blueberries
Loved across the world
Adorable
An elfchen chain
Written 19th January, 2025.
Categories:
peafowl, beautiful, beauty, color, pride,
Form: Other
A radiant smile spreading cheers
has lost the dimple penetrating fine cheeks.
Dwindled memories of someone has
rooted deep into her veins.
She is forgotten like a stowed
Peafowl feather in the books of antiquity,
Her beautiful locks of curls
once tumbled above her face with grace
has fallen like maple leaves.
Those eyes beholding magic to allure
is upset without the tint of kohl.
She is pitched into the abyss of darkness;
her hollow eyes with tale of sadness
is disguised in an evilist vision
and always misjudged as rude and cruel;
May be one will seek her heart so pure,
breaking the walls made of yore.
Her smudged tears may be vanished with zephyr
Or will be burned of in her own fire.
Written by,
Rekha Antony
Categories:
peafowl, depression, fate, hurt, lost,
Form: Free verse
George Bush went up top for a walk
You should have heard Donald Trump squawk!
"It MUST be a crime!
The limelight is mine!"
(The peafowl was once a peacock)
Categories:
peafowl, political,
Form: Limerick