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Don't stop! The most popular and best Asp poems are below this new poems list.

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asp by Dust , Pixie
Asp by Wolf, Gershon
Asp by CHAKRABARTY, RAJAT KANTI
ASP by Dutta, Anisha
Once An Asp by Gentry, Susan
The Asp by Leiser, Laura

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The Best Asp Poems

Details | Asp Poem | Create an image from this poem.

ASP OF GRIEF

ASP OF GRIEF She buries her head upon this asp of grief — soft with reptilian fangs, hard with poison. Her covetous husband lies upon the Nile’s reef. She holds her abdomen in her arms - his son. with lunar belly... the shape of her husband’s seed ...a fateful eclipse The pit with its bone-chilling cold, hisses with hatchlings, dreaming of spoiled seeds and seas with a vortex, coiling around ships. A queen’s lips burn red, yearning for her king. An abandoned wreck will not lay eyes upon his baby’s sex. insanity’s kiss... eyes burn with crimson lipstick ...unrepentant flames She plays with sticks and desire, enticing asps of despair — gorges with vampiric teeth. She embraces their mock and likewise teases, beckons and pleads for death so fair. Like a breeze about her ankles snakes snip her royal purple frock. entanglement frays... dyed purple threads unravel ...rigor mortis strikes His candle ensign in the dark, a resurrected hero of vanity. The light flickers with feet in the sand, footprints at lover’s leap. His profile in death’s shadow, his purple passion of insanity — laughter litters this carnivorous cave where ashes of dust heap. alluring ashes... Salome’s serpentine dance ...Cleopatra’s veils The sound of a knife being sharpened, his sword with venom drawn, leaps upon his self-righteous chest, a single blade’s deep penetration. No handsomer lover, thighs of steel, tanned and craven brawn. He lost his rapturous beauty bright and fleeting, weeds of veneration. bilious-amber mixes with his crimson blade — a suicide pact 4/28/2018
Asp Contest sponsored by Anthony Slausen *Historical Fiction Poetry Form used: Rhymes and haiku


Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2018


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As I Paddled the River Nile

As I paddled the river Nile
I met a monstrous crocodile. 
She smiled at me enticingly.   
I smiled deferentially.  
Through large white teeth to me she said, 
"I want you in my river bed." 

"We are not acquainted enough
for such intimate, tasteless stuff," 
I cried.  A hippopotamus 
opined, "Hey, we're amphibious. 
We're inclined to romp through marshes; 
come, let's crush some reedy rushes." 

I paddled hard away.  The Nile 
now swirled by rapidly awhile
to the sea.  There where its two brinks 
grow apart it flows past a sphinx 
who lies prone and thinks endlessly 
deep thoughts about eternity. 

For eons and eons his mind 
thought thoughts about how to unbind 
gravity from mentality    
throughout universality, 
that we might freely float;  
no more need to paddle my boat.  

Unfortunately, he has no gumption 
to follow his least assumption; 
but we do chat on fluently
of, to wit, stuff way beyond me 
like hieroglyphic-ally writ 
papyri.  When he will not quit 

I wander alone to a tomb 
where lies Cleopatra, of whom 
each schoolgirl knows; how her last gasp 
came as she clasped to breast her asp. 
Grasp that story's significance
twixt geometry class and dance.

Whilst she patronymic-ally 
reigned, a most royal Ptolemy; 
she told Marc, "My new last 'nym' now'll
be 'Anthony'."  This, post her roll 
out, quite nude, from Julius' rug.  
His offer of sex met her mere shrug.  

I stood amid a pyramid 
or three and pondered where they hid, 
these pharaohs, all their treasury. 
Was power or mere pleasury 
their true architectural plan? 
To ever tell, no pharaoh can.  

These writs I write as my boat drifts
midst original hieroglyphs 
through the Mediterranean.  
I don't need a librarian  
to see, no sociology 
compares to Egyptology.   




Copyright © John Smith | Year Posted 2011


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Iris-w

Prized for perfumes and medicines,
Rainbow personified & God’s messenger,
Resting the souls of dead women,
Decorum of the graves,
Delight of the ancient artists.

Blooming on Minoan Walls,
Sculptured in stone at Karnak.
Living memories of the French revolution.
Clovis put you on his banner
And won over Germanic tribe.
Louis VII adopted you as device,
‘Fleur-de-lis’ the symbol of France.
Germany suspended you in beer barrels,
And France to enrich the wine,
England to give flavour to brandies,
And Russia flavoured a soft drink.

Then, plucked in a state of chastity,
Now, relegated to flavour toothpaste.

==========================


Contest:

The poem was read by me at the World congress of Poets held in Iasi, Romania in 2002 
and has been published in the following international magazines:

Copy and paste in your browser the following links:

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewpoetry.asp?AuthorID=24119&id=121733
http://www.fieralingue.it/modules.php?
name=Content&pa=list_pages_categories&cid=58
http://www.boloji.com/writers/rammehta.htm
http://www.inditecircle.com/pro/art.php?artid=31
http://www.kavitanjali.com/pgjuly07/iris.htm
http://www.alittlepoetry.com/vs06rammehta.html 
http://www.poetsexpress.com/Winter07/DrRamMehta.htm
http://www.poetry.com
http://www.poetrymagazine.com/archives/2001/April01/mehta.htm   



Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2011


Details | Asp Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mark Antony and Cleopatra

Dispatched by Mark Antony to fetch his queen
An Egyptian with beauty of world renown
Five-thousand mighty Roman warriors sailed
Committed to driving Egypt’s army down

Cleopatra was basking on a Nile barge
While the fleet remained offshore waiting for night
‘Neath the cloak of darkness warriors arrived
To surprise defenders and battle incite

Fully armored Roman forces held the edge
Razor-sharp swords pierced Egyptians’ tanned skin
Into the gently flowing Nile, Egyptian blood spilled
The desert soldiers’ garb was softer than tin

When heat rose with dawn’s light on the pyramids
Only a few hundred Egyptian soldiers remained
But they fought with the courage of a thousand more
Determined to protect Cleopatra’s reign

Defenders fought with valor; none sought mercy
Just as victory seemed within Rome’s grasp
A bloody trail to the palace had been carved
But Cleopatra lay dead, bitten by an asp

Noble Antony awaited his army
Rejoicing when the first ship came into view
But they’d waged their fiercest fight futilely
Now they mustered to strength to tell Antony too

Warriors’ hearts were filled with compassion
The sign of a truly devoted band
As they offered support for their ruler’s loss
Antony felt the power of each and every man




*But for the fact that Antony and Cleopatra
were lovers, this poem is entirely fictional.
Antony and Cleopatra actually wed and 
Antony moved to Egypt.

Entry for the “Roman Legion” contest





Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014


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Lizard hunting

I. 
In the orange land, 
the sidewalks race wild with them, 
postured like statues of royal gardens 
the marble lions 
amongst hibiscus limbs. 

II. 
I like the smell of them, 
earth warmed dirt 
and fallen honeysuckle 
baked 
beneath the Florida sun. 

III. 
I poke with 
one tanned fingertip 
where the flesh 
cocoons around their 
soft belly, 
it is like 
the open sesame 
for lizards. 

IV. 
The open mouth of a lizard 
has no bias 
it dangles on ear lobes 
like Coco Chanel 
classic in style. 

V. 
When separated 
the tail becomes an asp 
wrestling with the truth 
of it's loss.


Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2005


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Iris-II-w

Prized for perfumes and medicines,
Rainbow personified & God’s messenger,
Resting the souls of dead women,
Decorum of the graves,
Delight of the ancient artists.

Blooming on Minoan Walls,
Sculptured in stone at Karnak.
Living memories of the French revolution.
Clovis put you on his banner
And won over Germanic tribe.
Louis VII adopted you as device,
‘Fleur-de-lis’ the symbol of France.
Germany suspended you in beer barrels,
And France to enrich the wine,
England to give flavour to brandies,
And Russia flavoured a soft drink.

Then, plucked in a state of chastity,
Now, relegated to flavour toothpaste.

=============================

Eighth Placement
Contest: Flower Power
==================
The poem was read by me at the World congress of Poets held in Iasi, Romania in 2002 and has been published in the following international magazines:
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewpoetry.asp?AuthorID=24119&id=121733
http://www.fieralingue.it/modules.php?name=Content&pa=list_pages_categories&cid=58
http://www.boloji.com/writers/rammehta.htm
http://www.inditecircle.com/pro/art.php?artid=31
http://www.kavitanjali.com/pgjuly07/iris.htm
http://www.alittlepoetry.com/vs06rammehta.html http://www.poetsexpress.com/Winter07/DrRamMehta.htm
http://www.poetry.com
http://www.poetrymagazine.com/archives/2001/April01/mehta.htm   



Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010


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Tale of The Asp

Burlap marinated in back water ponds,
that's what the spirit of truth often dons
always forever and far beyond strong... 
pillar of marble in cyclones of neglect
hold tight to its wings, soar above feiry pits.
   Untruth, the drunk weaving down silky road 
a pair of vertical eyes, a million pot holes..
always the deciever, never yearns to give back
so much fleeter than what you'd expect
don't fools fancy chasing the tale of the Asp.
   Truth, the cay of salvation circled by sharks
lone firefly ripping the mask from the dark
gilded loom of the humbled and homespun heart
   Untruth, supreme seductress of grizzled ID
abyss of the water colored smile  
always bleeding death back into hopeful eyes.




Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2018


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Asp

A-s-p are three high-functioning letters
And while I imagine that some might do better
  Here are some ways to bring them together

At the start of a word we have aspirin and asparagus
Not to mention aspartame, aspects, and aspersions
Then there's aspire, aspirations, and asperity
  And maybe even an aspirator, between you and me

Of course, if you have asp in the middle
You get asp in the end
As you'll find in clasp grasp, hasp and rasp
And it works the other way too--
  Which I'm sure you can grasp

That brings to an end this discussion of asp
For more, read the Bible or Shakespeare
  Or find a teacher to ask


Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2018


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To my poetry friends

There is a message for you at this greeting link. Aloha, Connie

http://www.jacquielawson.com/viewcard.asp?code=5267523408196&source=jl999&utm_medium=internal_email&utm_source=pickup&utm_campaign=receivercontent


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014


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cancer and confetti

it all blows around 
zig zagging in front of the eye
a million bits of lemon dipped confetti
tapping the carapace of a life
fawn dappled-silver maple leaf- days
leopard spotted-howler monkey nights 
everything summed up in gossomer skin
infiniti licks the newborns fresco face
shines the asp and threads the eyes
shuts
in
a generation or two
tombstones are forgotten
no more granite tears or plastic flowers
only ravens on the rot
on the whole-just a meaningless bowl
of put on for whom-for how long-

life gnashes at the neck like lion teeth
the sweet leaves the veins to soon
sad pitter patter of an actors eulogy...
sugaring stumps and bitter moons
every word twists the air...
like cancer and confetti



 



Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2012


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Train Track To Abstract

Asp! I can see I am not going to be on time? That's a fact! I am late, and must wait, while a gate holds me back from the tracks! What a pain is the train dashing by!.. Rolling on at a pace of a snail in a race I am bracing to stifle a yawn All that freight, makes a pass while my eyes try to grasp graffiti that is now flashing by.. On the side of each car is a scar that was splashed by a guy with a message to send.. It departs 'round the bend So the gallery ends.. Farewell to the art from a friend... I am late... but the wait was a blast!
_______________________________________________________


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013


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R and R

R and R

Fan those palm fronds a little faster, boys
As I recline here in dignified poise

I’m Cleopatra, your Egyptian queen
I require the most sumptuous cuisine

Not queen for a day, but for a whole week
Surrounded by tall men with great physiques

Quit your bellyaching, why can’t you grasp
I’m not fated to succumb to an asp

Just provide me with every luxury
Or I’ll send your wives to a nunnery

For seven days I’ll be waited upon
It’s my vacation so I can dream on

Classes I miss and work piles on my desk
As I relax, remaining statuesque

Rest and rehabilitation is grand
On day eight, I’ll respond to your demands


For Carol Brown's "A week to do as I please" contest


Copyright © Diane Locksley | Year Posted 2010


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RAVENOUS ELDRITCH WRATH a collab with Olive Eloisa Guillermo

RAVENOUS ELDRITCH WRATH

The darkening skies in choir of wrath;
The wind brisk banging blows;
The withering of trees;
The falling twirling leaves;
The branches sudden irate tweak and split.

Giving way to the rushing threat of death
Will another candle die in it's final flicker of light?

From afar

High hasty orisons a gong in melancholic play
Voice of mournings didn't save the day
Only shrills that echoes in elevated ebb

Sullen faces white as powdered chalk
Sprung to view when moon casts its glow
Bloodshot eyes a plague ready to pierce and blow
Dark coloured lips close and open to rumble slow:

"Sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name.
sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name."

Again and again they chant-
As they go round and round
Stopping awhile to kneel 
Then raise their hands up in the air.

[their shadows sleek as serpentine hiss
casting chills in the catacombs'  wall]

On the centre...

A blindfolded lady in white hangs on logs of X
Her tied arms spread left to right
Her legs set apart but truss tight

Down to where the log stands
A black man half-naked in mask holds a whip
Slashing it side by side in quick thunder thudding trips

A quietness abounds as the chanting stops
This eerie eldritch silence eating into the night
She of the above allows rays to glisten:
"Moon of the dark, tranced faces listen"

I of the numbered, tattooed, scribed, scored
Command you to stand, heathens, my horde!

Silence is shattered by the cracking of his whip
Lacerating white linen, now in reddened seep
Cries turn to howls, the beating of this beast
Joyous dancing tongue, rasping at this feast

Faces now morose. Excitement high! Incite
Darkened desires in crave, this mooned night
Slowly he walks towards this writhing tethered
Taken, she will be forsaken. Feathered!

His hands against the X, his face leans
Asp tasting, touching drawing red
Dressage of white, now cast, her flesh
Hungered, undaunted, heathens chanting

"Sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name.
sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name."

Now taken, clouds drift amidst cobalt blue
An empty soul lies listed, under darkened hue
Spores now carried, bedded, soon they'll born
Every one a number, forever they'll adorn
Heathens, oh! chanting ones, bow, now sworn

I of the numbered, tattooed, scribed, scored
Bow, chant, blindfolded, taken, your now adored.



© James Fraser and Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Written October 17, 2014


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014


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Revised- Reflections On A Gift Of Watermelon Pickle...

That half grown chrysanthemums/
Stirring up like accuser's.
Life is compared with what two things ?
Which do you think is the richer more revealing comparison ?
Poets use many symbols/
Geese flying south can be a symbol,
Of that of approaching winter/
Heart's symbolize love,
In this brief expanse we call life,
One may want to cry out in a revolt ?
Other's simply take in a breathe of fresh air/
Ponder that many other's that don't even care ?
We all must become united in this great cause !
Not to use this concept loosely/
Yet to humbly ponder a thought,
What do you all think tells a more detailed story ?
The poem or the picture ?
Love can grow out of a billowing cry/
Perhaps a cut nor a mere stye in the eye ?
The seventies had embarked on this journey/
Not to mention that of Timothy Leary ?
This took us to a vast opened door !
To break on through to the other side/
Lest I emplore,
Still we have every bit of reason in which to grasp/
That lattice decor to that shine on the asp,
A sweet juice filled with fine honey nectar/
The future resources,
Allow the creative poet/
To begin to explore the valley of much more !
In gaining the proper word/
Fresh out of the Autumn air !


Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2010


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RAVENOUS ELDRITCH WRATH a collab with James Fraser

RAVENOUS ELDRITCH WRATH The darkening skies in choir of wrath; The wind brisk banging blows; The withering of trees; The falling twirling leaves; The branches sudden irate tweak and split. Giving way to the rushing threat of death Will another candle die in it's final flicker of light? From afar High hasty orisons a gong in melancholic play Voice of mournings didn't save the day Only shrills that echoes in elevated ebb Sullen faces white as powdered chalk Sprung to view when moon casts its glow Bloodshot eyes a plague ready to pierce and blow Dark coloured lips close and open to rumble slow: "Sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name. sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name." Again and again they chant- As they go round and round Stopping awhile to kneel Then raise their hands up in the air. [their shadows sleek as serpentine hiss casting chills in the catacombs' wall] On the centre... A blindfolded lady in white hangs on logs of X Her tied arms spread left to right Her legs set apart but truss tight Down to where the log stands A black man half-naked in mask holds a whip Slashing it side by side in quick thunder thudding trips A quietness abounds as the chanting stops This eerie eldritch silence eating into the night She of the above allows rays to glisten: "Moon of the dark, tranced faces listen" I of the numbered, tattooed, scribed, scored Command you to stand, heathens, my horde! Silence is shattered by the cracking of his whip Lacerating white linen, now in reddened seep Cries turn to howls, the beating of this beast Joyous dancing tongue, rasping at this feast Faces now morose. Excitement high! Incite Darkened desires in crave, this mooned night Slowly he walks towards this writhing tethered Taken, she will be forsaken. Feathered! His hands against the X, his face leans Asp tasting, touching drawing red Dressage of white, now cast, her flesh Hungered, undaunted, heathens chanting "Sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name. sacred candles. sacred flames. Aid the magic I name." Now taken, clouds drift amidst cobalt blue An empty soul lies listed, under darkened hue Spores now carried, bedded, soon they'll born Every one a number, forever they'll adorn Heathens, oh! chanting ones, bow, now sworn I of the numbered, tattooed, scribed, scored Bow, chant, blindfolded, taken, your now adored. © James Fraser and Olive Eloisa Guillermo Written October 17, 2014


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2014


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Fidelity and Curiosity

Fidelity and Curiosity

Curiosity quickly seeks and finds
Tearful times; swiftly
Hiding from view, slickly.

© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 26, 2010

Poetic form:  Englyn  

Poetic Form: Englyn penfyr (Short Head/End Englyn)  REFERENCES follow:
http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/zoebrigley/entry/the_measures_of_1/
http://edsitement.neh.gov/view_lesson_plan.asp?id=410
http://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/413765


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010


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New Hope Refreshes

New Hope Refreshes

As we endure life threshes, heartaches spawn.
Dreads dawn; enmeshes.
New hopes mist refreshes.


© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 26, 2010

Poetic form:  Englyn

Poetic Form: Englyn penfyr (Short Head/End Englyn)  REFERENCES follow:
http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/zoebrigley/entry/the_measures_of_1/
http://edsitement.neh.gov/view_lesson_plan.asp?id=410
http://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/413765


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010


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Asp-

 
ancient deceiver
slithering symbol of kings
perhaps Cleo's bane
 


Copyright © Patricia Sawyer | Year Posted 2011


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The Freeze

Put me to sleep in ice again
Sounds travel well
Through anything but the cold
Relationship mined with pain
The world in silence is swell
I cannot hear the chill between
The asp stinging thought told
I'm frost bitten in 
Or bells all callous toll.the green

"Twenty below Zero"


Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2013


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Iris-w

Prized for perfumes and medicines,
Rainbow personified & God’s messenger,
Resting the souls of dead women,
Decorum of the graves,
Delight of the ancient artists.

Blooming on Minoan Walls,
Sculptured in stone at Karnak.
Living memories of the French revolution.
Clovis put you on his banner
And won over Germanic tribe.
Louis VII adopted you as device,
‘Fleur-de-lis’ the symbol of France.
Germany suspended you in beer barrels,
And France to enrich the wine,
England to give flavour to brandies,
And Russia flavoured a soft drink.

Then, plucked in a state of chastity,
Now, relegated to flavour toothpaste.

==========================
Dr. Ram Mehta

Third Place win in:
Contest: Best Blossom Design (Flower Poem) sponsored by the Destroyer Poet

=================================================

The poem was read by me at the World congress of Poets held in Iasi, Romania in 2002 and has been published in the following international magazines:

Copy and paste in your browser the following links:

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewpoetry.asp?AuthorID=24119&id=121733
http://www.fieralingue.it/modules.php?name=Content&pa=list_pages_categories&cid=58
http://www.boloji.com/writers/rammehta.htm
http://www.inditecircle.com/pro/art.php?artid=31
http://www.kavitanjali.com/pgjuly07/iris.htm
http://www.alittlepoetry.com/vs06rammehta.html http://www.poetsexpress.com/Winter07/DrRamMehta.htm
http://www.poetry.com
http://www.poetrymagazine.com/archives/2001/April01/mehta.htm   



Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2005


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Alpine Wind

It is too hot and humid for September!
Even dust specks descending in the room's sunlight
are beads of sweat running down my sides.
I bring pencil, crossword and ice tea 
to this chair and table, these angled shutters, this ceiling fan.
In a world of metaphors
perhaps a cool alternate reality can emerge.
I sit still as glaciers, remembering houses
I have lived in less impervious to heat than this, 
but still this silk flower arrangement bulges with moisture, 
saturates my bones.  Their stems, like torchieres,
explode in fountains of light;
the morning sun fades for want of power.
I have drained salmon blood truer than you,
disdain the lilies, echoes a chorus of golden cat-tails.
Pink iridescent roses uncurl with laughter.
"Alpine Wind", beckons the puzzle to my neon veins;
somewhere in Webster's English waits a panacea of snow,
a virgin crest white as morning, firs towering,
their cones crisp as Pippins.
In my mind I cannot conjure adjectives
to match December's frozen silt.
"Foehn", I write Across, imaging the Down words 
will dangle from each letter like Christmas icicles.
I suffer through "Lunches for Caesar", "Egyptian Cobra", "Asian Gazelle",
knowing in my exasperation that crystals will never drift
up to my window; that "Salads", "Asp" and "Goa"
bring deserts to my desert.  They languish in the web
of these obscene flowers, make umbrellas of their petals.
Soon I will perforate them with my No. 2 spear.
I murmur, "This'll get the thistle".
"Beach Sight", ask the Crossword again.  Four letters.
I think of waves as arctic oceans would lay cold and soothing at my temples.
Alas, "Dune" is all that fits, miles of arid dust for Caesar and his cobra
to mock me as they conquer.
Condensation has gathered on my glass.  I press
the tumbler to my forehead, think again of arctic seas.
The fan sends a breeze down to succor this weary pilgrim;
I am better for an instant.  My fingers leave
translucent windows in the frost.  Through them I see
icebergs glistening in Alaskan inlets,
snakes and Caesars drowning in the flood.
The illusion melts as my forehead dries.
Even the wooden blades above me send Santa Ana winds
in their endless spirals.
Other words begin crossing my Alpine Wind:
"Serf" and "Ego" fasten themselves like leeches in a fetid swamp.
Letters coagulate in "Fungus", "Mire" and "Moss".
I am suffocating in the coils of that Egyptian Asp.

Suddenly I attack with the eraser, pounding
like a sledge hammer, smudging lines and squares
until only Foehn remains, clean and new as when I first wrote it.
Now Asp gives way to "Alp", Caesar falls in a "Fjord".
Fungus is dead with "Weed Killer".
Villages appear draped in blue calm,
chalets and seaside cottages shine in gentle sun.
My glass is an icon for the God of Winter,
for "Norsemen" and "Reindeer" fleeting across the page.
At the tranquil hub blows my Alpine Wind now cool like Autumn's first sigh,
the icicles promises yet to come.


Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart | Year Posted 2017


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The Fog

Creeping in like a sinister asp
eerie hands of a midnight fog
wrap themselves around a lone gaslight

Eyes that watch through a veil of darkness
...in waiting for the silken swish 
of the lady of the night

Who lingers beneath the sallow glow
adjusting her satin garter
and re-touching the rouge on her lips

She gasps as cold fingers grasp
her porcelain neck and wander
where only lovers hands should go

She screams a silent scream
that no one hears
as a distant foghorn drowns 

a voice lost in the void of an uncaring night


Copyright © valerie bellefleur | Year Posted 2010


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EBOLA


Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.aspx
Ending the life of the innocents   
Both sexes and ages you destroy, to
Offer widows and inconsolable orphans;
Lamentation and mourning to my motherland
Africa
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Copyright © IRON BENDER | Year Posted 2015


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A Roman Tale

A ROMAN TALE
By Roy Merritt

Caesar had seizures but Brutus cut him no slack
And though he claimed he was his friend
He stabbed him in the back
He'd taken over the Senate 
And they thought he was a jerk
But Brutus himself seldom showed up for work
And soon Augustus and all of his crew
Knew for certain what they should do
And Brutus knowing there was a reward
He did what he must and fell on his sword
Auggie and Antony had become allies
Though both secretly Caesar despised
They just wanted the crown they each did conspire
To wear the laurel to lead the Empire
Augustus took the west and Antony went east
And soon with that woman in Egypt he'd feast
She tempted him with her sweet delight
She herself had Rome in her sight
And Antony you know his wife he dismissed
Forgetting that dame was Auggie's sis
A foolish thing for a man to do
He bit off more than he could chew
And mounting an army he did something dumb
And Auggie crushed him at Actium
Back in Egypt Antony did flee
Hoping once more that woman to see
Knowing now he faced but strife
Antony too took his own life
And Cleo losing him lost her grasp
And she herself caressed an asp
And now they're celebrated for breaking the rules
But if you ask me they were just fools


Copyright © Roy Merritt | Year Posted 2016


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THEY RANG A BELL

Sisters
with a nom de plume,
Currer,Ellis,Acton-
Charlotte,Emily,Ann died much
too young

see their portrait by their brother Bramwell @ npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?LinkID=mp00572&rNo=0&role=sit


Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2008