The Poet and
the Peacock
John was taking a walk through the park near his home,
hoping the fresh air and scenery would spark some inspiration for his poetry. Lately,
the words had not been flowing as easily as they once did. He found himself
staring at a blank page for hours with nothing to show for it.
As he strolled along the winding paths, admiring the
colorful flowers and lush greenery, he heard a strange sound in the distance.
It almost sounded like a person crying or calling out, but
with an unusual tone. Curious, John followed the noise to a large oak tree at
the edge of the park.
That's when he spotted it - a peacock perched proudly on one
of the tree's lower branches. Its long tail feathers trailed down behind it in
a stunning array of blues, greens, and golds. The peacock let out another cry,
this one even louder and more piercing than before.
"What seems to be the trouble, my feathered
friend?" John called up to the peacock. It cocked its head and looked down
at him with beady black eyes, as if sizing him up. After a moment, it squawked
again impatiently. John realized the peacock must be stuck and unable to fly
down from the high branch. Thinking quickly, John searched the ground and found
a long tree branch that had fallen nearby.
He snapped off the smaller twigs, leaving himself with a
makeshift pole. Slowly and carefully, he inched his way over to the base of the
oak tree. The peacock watched his every move warily. He poked the pole up towards
the peacock, hoping it would understand his intentions. After a few tentative
pecks at the pole, the peacock stepped onto it gingerly. John lowered the pole
slowly, letting the peacock find its footing before going any further.
·
The Peacock's Rescue
·
A colorful bird cried out
in vain,
·
Stuck without wings to fly
below,
·
Calling for help in a
plaintive strain.
·
I heard its desperate
squawk from afar
·
And rushed to see what
could be the matter,
·
There perched atop in the
branches bar,
·
A peacock trapped, in a
colorful flutter.
·
With pole in hand I
carefully climbed,
·
Up through the leaves green
and thick,
·
The peacock watched as I
inched and primed,
·
To set this splendid bird
free with a flick.
·
At last on solid ground it
proudly stood,
·
Spreading its tail in a
shimmering fan,
·
In thanks for saving it
where it brooded,
·
This rescue inspired words
from my pen.
·
The Peacock's
Inspiration
·
My colorful muse spreads
its gorgeous tail,
·
Preening and strutting
without a care,
·
Its beauty renews my spirit
bare.
·
The vibrant blues, greens
and gold it wears,
·
Fill my mind with vivid
scenes and airs,
·
Flowing descriptions onto pages
pour,
·
Inspired by this peacock
and more.
·
Where writer's block had me
locked away,
·
This peacock has shown me a
brighter day,
·
Filling my poems with
lively scenes,
·
Of nature's splendors and
living dreams.
·
My feathered friend, you
are my muse,
·
Your grace and colors my
pen now use,
·
To craft new verses with
imagery bright,
·
Thank you sweet peacock for
flight of my write!
