Was with  a salacious witch
      with amazing quick silver tongue,
Confidence personified
   she challenged me to chase her,
If I so wish, not in words.
 Her liquid eyes and gestures,
made me mad with pleasure
by the time we reached the peacock hill.
Peacocks, big  blue eyes painted on feathers,
   each, was in love with her, it seemed.
Danced vying with each other,
 to please her, while she winked at me.
As if to say"They'll **** each other
  to get my glad eye"wouldn't I feel jealous?


Helpless, I did surrender to her spell,
 like others in the line, in my front and back.
When just one touch of her index finger,
  would evoke magic, I'll get
Transformed to a young peacock
 of  exquisite beauty, with blue green plumes
none have ever seen before,to flaunt at
others of the ilk, on seeing it they'd back out.


Such a witch is one of a kind,my mind
    whispers, it's she who assures me this,
On the full moon night, due in a week
    we'll fly to the far away  hill where
She'll be with me helping to build a nest,
turning to a peafowl herself,
She'll lay a dozen eggs,
yes, in  to my ear, she says, this is only later,
h
When, she with index finger will
   gently touche me and proclaim, thus:
"This is the peacock I enticed and  
   with my witchcraft ,bound  for life"

Peacock with your feathers so bright,
So blue and beautiful, so full of might,
You stand up tall, proud and bold,
You have so many adventures yet to be told.

Peahen you’re so shy and demure,
Something about you feels unsure,
You don’t know what you want just yet,
You will find out soon, there’s no need to fret.

A falling feather on the breeze,
lilting like the Seraphim
songs of Mephistopheles,
lured her drunkenly to him.

Lilting like the Seraphim,
she drank his iridescence. He
lured her drunkenly to him,
enraptured in naivety.

She drank his iridescence. He
befouled her virtue, was the air.
Enraptured in naivety
no more, would Eden hear her prayer?

Befouled; her virtue was the air
he stole away, a hunched-up thief.
No more would Eden hear her prayer -
the echoes howling his motif.

He stole away, a hunched-up thief,
a fallen feather on the breeze;
the echoes howling his motif -
songs of Mephistopheles.


Footnote: Passages from folk lore:
Hindu - the peacock is said to have angels' feathers, a devil's voice
and the walk of a thief
Chinese - a girl who looks at a peacock could become pregnant
Islamic: the peafowl carried Satan into the Garden of Eden after consuming him

There she is my ******,
Carry my dream as an African queen,
Her words are very sweet, soft, and delicate as honey,
So I feel boom! Blessed to be her only son
She is my shield in the middle of the sunny zone,
I have got nothing much to pay,
Here and there, everywhere I’ll  say;
Have seen none like my queen

I’m blessed with her long way,
She guides me in a better ray,
I appreciate, duplicate, her effort, every day
I dedicate that her love never deplete,
Dynamic, and never lead me astray.
On her side tho’ blue turn grey,
Among four am her beloved kid,
She never gave up on me,
I mean she has never been mean,  
She gives all of her to me, and always there for me        

She forgave me for all I did,
She is my pride song, and  gives me  all I need,
My peafowl, society remarkable,
Rose flower, and society reliable
Do you wonder who is she? My honorable?
She is she, not he, but family dependable,
She’s who she is, even tho’ you cease who she is according to the bible,
There she is, my beloved Mum who makes me loveable and feel cherishable.