Snake Poems - Poems about Snake

Bitten by an Iscariot snake #blossommonyei I trusted you, we had our fun, Shared so much, thought we were one. But when I needed you the most, You turned away, just like a ghost. It hurt so deep, I felt alone, Lessons learned, a heart of stone. Now I see who’s...

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the abandoned house was full of mice I brought in my snake, Mr. Nice he made sandwiches of each little beast I watched him gulp down his squeaky feast...

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The day comes When a snake is not a snake Slithering, scared less Silent screams as I shake A snake is a dream turned nightmare Labored breaths and cold sweat Visions of a snake-filled hall I've not endured yet Then, a snake is fevered Half hour shower on the ground Climbing straight into bed Without burning a cloud A snake is the process Of turning fear into guilt A...

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snake in the grass is a real thing they’ve hidden since dynasty known as ming oftentimes knocking off the cherries bing zapping toes with a little ting-a-ling yesterday this was one under my blue swing waiting with his girlfriend to have a fling they were both much thicker than twine or string they caught a bluejay by his slowest wing my taser gun...

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O raja reigning is the light of all lights electric rays beaming oscillating waves I embody my spirit in a physical form I kindly request her divinity to roam beseeching with contrition She begins to uncoil at my very core, sonorous hissing ensues as she journeys thru she breaches my walls of defiance as she performs her purification ridding...

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I crawl through darkness — small, scared, biting at shadows to keep my life, to keep my fear away. I hold my breath, keep still, hiding trembling beneath the strike, trying not to break, trying not to pour my heart out. Everyone sees the fight — the flash of scales, the flicker of anger — but no one sees the fear that claws beneath the surface, the quiet battle I...

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So that’s it for Rohit…and have to admit his parting gambit Little to cheer in his career nadir year ..was all rather ***** Hard not to discard someone supposed to be leading the men Even with Sharma’s zen..when you’re averaging just over ten Time for a transition so his position was moot and got the boot Let's not be...

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This poem is featured in Dr. Ivan Edwards' upcoming anthology, Resonance of the Soul: Flowers and Harmonics, published by IEME LLC. The book will be available in e-book, softcover, and hardcover formats upon release. Available on YouTube. Healing - A tribute to those who battle mental health The journey to wholeness: Reflections on mending wounds, overcoming...

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Out of a hole near a pond so small, A baby frog gives a croaky call. But mama frog is nowhere around— A snake lies waiting; dangers abound. The baby frog peeks out of the hole— It knows its fate—no frog would console. With fear, it leaps out into the pond; From there, it finds a way to abscond. It doesn't know snakes...

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barking dog warning my swimming hole nature wins snake heads on the pond...

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Lord knows the Devil I encountered. Hidden hypocrisy swayed naivety I exuded. Smiling with grace but crossing betrayal behind your back while holding my hand with the other. Delicate melodies of grace strumming along inconspicuous quos while feeding me with Eden’s fruit hung in God’s hand. Mirages of desolated oases surrounded you, A pity fool I became at your wits playing me instead....

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MISTY as the powder of my soul The demi-god of legend Haunts like snakeskin Wandering my dreams Igniting my being Begging for your touch Smoldering my loneliness Forever...

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They call us snakes. Evil. Cold blooded. Cruel. Why would you say that when learning someone was diagnosed with a mental disorder that was out of their control? Oh, but right, you hear about it on crime shows and boisterous podcasts, so that makes you a licensed-to-judge therapist. You hear about it in shootings, thievery,...

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How wicked the tricks of your serpent’s lair a lingual place of wild mango magic behind caliente lips where a supple sensualist lies in seductive ambush rum on the rocks spices the red bed of your taste buds libation temptation whets my wish like a knife on stone medieval my want to stir my tongue in your firewater my fingers a...

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Aaro stands still and sees a snake among green leaves. What she thinks, she becomes, her eyes wide as new moons. The painted snake moves without moving, its path already chosen. "I can make things real too," whispers Aaro to herself. Each day she plants a thought like a seed in dark soil. Each night she waters it with dreams that never sleep. The snake found its...

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