top of page
  • Writer's pictureIvor M Bundell

Art in Time of Lockdown (4)

Seen in Winchester today

The Peacock

She listened to the telephone that rang

But did not answer it; stiffly she sat

Beside the sofa, on the wall, and that

Was where I found her, where the pictures hang

In various frames - but none as curious

Or perfect in design or subtle shape:

Whose wings are black beneath and thin as crepe;

Unfolding, eyed with blue and glorious!

I fetched a plastic box to put her in

And carried her down to the garden shed

Then left her in a corner fluttering

To sleep the winter long alone instead.

When spring returns we’ll look to see her fly

Among the nettles and then she will die.


4 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

The Silence of the Apps

The dragon’s roar echoes from an airport Over the hills beyond and through blue air To this quiet garden where I sit and stare Addictively at apps like someone caught In a maelstrom, the cyclone’s sin

I Walked with William Butler Yeats

I walked with William Butler Yeats Among the children at my school And heard them tell of unfamiliar days And watched them run and play and fall At sixty now my beard is grey And all my knowledge wash

A Death in the Garden

I lay on the lawn looking up at the wide blue sky. My skin was in need of sun. The late spring had been unusually hot and the garden needed rain, desperately. The sky was cloudless and without trace


bottom of page