The Peacock Glory

The Peacock Glory

The Peacock Glory

The Peacock Glory

Gasping for the

Breath of your

Sweet presence,

My thoughts

Toss and turn

In the bed of my dreams!

 
Pain like a

Monsoon peacock

Dances all over

My sleepless limbs

As they toss and turn

In the bed of my dreams!

 
Why don’t you come

For one last time

As my dancing peacock

And unfurl the colors

Of your smile

Making my days

Toss and turn forever

In the bed of my life!

 
….Vishwas
© Copyright 2014, Vishwas Vaidya All rights reserved.

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2 Comments
  1. Thank you Mark for the excerpt. Worth reading it.
    The poem “The Peacock Glory” is written by our guest poet, Vishwas Vaidya. And you are right. His poems are cherished.
    Thanks for stopping by, Mark! Looking forward to hear more from you.

  2. I really cherished your poem as I adore Peacocks. So much so I included them in my book “The Zebra Affaire”. Here is an excerpt:

    Lydia pointed to a nearby flower bed. A peacock had poked his head in between the floral plumage of a bird of paradise plant, and looked at home nestling among the plant’s crane-like blooms.
    “That reminds me, do I have a good peacock story for you…”
    “Oh, that’s so?”
    “Yup, when Leo was a pup, these birds drove him nuts. He yelped, barked, and pranced about trying to intimidate them. But they weren’t particularly impressed. Until one day a mature male peacock faced Leo. I thought there’d be a scrap. But the bird understood he was dealing with an immature tike. He simply unfurled his splendid feathers, and strutted his stuff…no hissing or pecking whatsoever. And that’s the day Leo reached an accommodation with peacocks. So much for my big brave lion hunter,” snorted Lydia, giving a wry glance at the dog curled up at their feet.
    “That’s cute,” said Elsa with a laugh.
    “Wait, there’s more to the story,” continued Lydia. “Just the other day I saw Leo dashing around the guesthouse. Coming the other way was a peahen with five chicks parading behind her. It was a charming scene of maternal affection, until my son of a bitch dog barreled into them.
    “In a flurry of squawks and feathers, the mom and four of her chicks skedaddled away. Unfortunately, a lone fifth chick scampered in the opposite direction. Leo chased after the solitary little bird, and lots of desperate shrieks followed.”
    Elsa’s brow furrowed, a concerned look darkened her face. “You know, that’s the basic tactic of the wild: first isolate the weakest from the herd, then hunt it, kill it, and eat it,” said Elsa.
    “I’m freaking out now,” Lydia said. “So I yell at Leo to stop. But he disobeys me!”
    An apprehensive Elsa asked, “What happened next?”
    “Leo had his own plan. He sprinted beyond the tiny bird, turned, and then herded it safely back to its mom,” said a now very proud Lydia.
    Elsa’s face reflected her relief.
    “Leo’s my best! You should’ve seen the know-it-all expression he gave me after that.”

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