Take heart, fellow writers; the weekend is nearly here. Only today and Friday to go. Considering everything I’ve done this week, I’ve decided to post some more lighthearted material and offer up some of my old work again. This one is called “Peahen”. Like the first one, this poem is from my undergrad poetry portfolio. It grew from an attempt at a prose poem and I’m not sure if it’s any good. On top of that, it morphed into an expression of anxiety, judgment, and dating, so it hits a raw nerve for me. I’ll let you decide its quality.
Without further ado, I present “Peahen”:
Peahen
A million violet eyes encircled me
Their feathers spread in full display, unfurled like ball gowns gliding across a flawless wood floor. There were necks of lapis lazuli and scaly emerald. One had ghostly feathers, another the ashy feathers of a duster. They strut with bobbing necks. Their onyx orbs bore down on me— pure, deep oblivion. The eyes closed in tighter, and tighter; peach and golden beaks, cactus-needle claws ripped through vulnerable flesh. Rusty blood oozed through open wounds, their jeweled fans swept air from my lungs.
They screeched horrible love songs, pleading
Image retrieved from Flickr
Thank you for amusing me. I hope that you all find a little encouragement in the fact that everyone has work that they’re not so proud of, and I’ll make certain to continue to remind you of that for as long as there are writers who are discouraged by their harsh self-criticism.
If you have any old work that you’d like to share, be sure to post it in the comments below. You never know what might pull another writer out of the depths of despair or inspire the next bestseller.
