Best Cobras Poems
I watch the tears fall from your eyes, but then why am I mad? …This is the day I was
told about, they said I’d be happy, blissful, content, and victorious, so then why am I
sad…
Man, today I met a new side of me, I learned you could confide in me, and know that
your secrets are safe with inside of me, trying to weaken the soul that lies in thee,
but my heart is as wide as the sea. And I’m stronger than I ever thought I could be,
because I learned to forgive YOU, and to love ME!
So I wipe your tears and ask myself where is your strength… the strength that kept
me in complete darkness, provoked words of cold harshness, the times I CRIED and
YOU acted heartless, I let you guide me as though you were my compass, but you
chose to destroy me and feed off my weakness, leaving me to pick up the pieces and
tidy your mess. So if you’re wondering if I feel your pain, my answer is yes!
The pain you feel was a place I once resided in, so my only words of wisdom is take
this as life’s lesson, learn that things happen for a reason, ppl we think we know
change like the season, learn to fight your daemon. Don’t let this be a rerun, don’t let
your soul get beaten, train your mind not to weaken, don’t wallow in your sorrows,
forgive and forget and your life will sweeten……mines did!
I did, I moved on, forgave and forgot, and in turn I am grateful for all that I got. Road
out the waves, rolled with the punches, built back my strength, my emotions and
senses, brushed myself off when you threw me in the trenches. Drowned my
sorrows, faced all my stresses. And at the end of it all I made a few pledges.
I pledge to love me and put myself first, love me through hard times, down to my
worst. I pledge to forgive, we all make mistakes, I pledge to succeed and do
whatever it takes. Avoid all the foes, follies and fakes. Avoid stepping on skins of all
cobras and snakes. I shall not conform to gossiping and sin, because despite what
I’ve been through I choose to win. Do good on to others, be kind, be true, and your
hardship will cease, your sorrows will be few. Now wipe the tears from your eyes,
cuz you finally paid your due. You can run and you can hide but karma will always find
you!
Jehovah of Armies
made a count one day
of all His weapons
keeping man at bay
of non leathal weapons
He gave the skunk his stink
and a little less harmless
the octopus' ink
sometimes more is needed
to get a point across
a little pain and fear
to impress a loss
soon there will be no doubt
about how they feel
if just once they touch
the electric eel
always beware of
little thing with wings
some may bite
and some may sting
one final warning
and one final note
a very harsh warning
is a bunt of a goat
but for those who are
less fearful
and bent on adventure
who challenges the snows
and suns of nature
to those that would climb
Gods invisible wall
shatter Gods ceiling
ignore Gods calls
for those who would face
the ultimate threat
the deadliest creatchers
man has ever met
Gods final judgement
more or less
escape from these creatures
the ultimate conquest
you've made it this far
dont stop now
how much more can you defy
Gods laws
you may escape the tigers claws
be just missed by hungry jaws
quick enough to avoid the cobras strike
smart enough not to challenge
the elephants might
witty enough to escape
the anaconda grip
be very careful not to slip
lucky enough to avoid all fangs
with venomous and vicious names
tempting not the bull
to gore
declairing never to stand behind
a mule once more
so far weve made it
still living and breathing
Jehovah of Armies
protecting and scheming
Gaia in white flame burns
Yaldabaoth himself spurns
A second cycle turns
The Golden Age returns
The first-begotten son
Comes down from heaven’s sun
Barbelo, Armoured Queen
Look gently at this scene
Of Christ’s birth long foreseen
In this iron machine
Hearts of iron will melt
Hearts of gold will be felt
Hearts, gold and meek
Will rule from the word’s peak
Valis will rule and speak
With the lute of mystique
This birth in mystery
Will be our victory
As Polloi rules here
The first child will appear
Clearing the mist of fear
Every past sin and tear
Will be washed away
Clearing a narrow way
The world soul will rain down
Hedera all around
Lilies to make a crown
Acanthus for renown
Myrrh, gold, and frankincense
Without any expense
All goats will return home
All blind cobras that roam
Will be under death’s dome
Miles under farms and loam
Sheep will not fear lions
Men will see aeons
In the stream of Dead Sea
He’ll become a man free
Oak trees will weep honey
On every wild thorn-tree
Grapes will turn Persian plum
Gold will be the plain’s sum
But iron will remain
At sea, war ships will reign
Wars will bring pain
Walls will cover the plain
But when you will grow up
Gaia will drink the cup
Please, come soon, in our plight
You, the viceroy of might
The globe bows to your light
The earth and the blue height
Beseech you to be set free
From Yaldabaoth’s dark sea
You, our lord and brother
Child, smile at your mother
Speak words from the Father
If your lips will not stir
No light will bless your wine
And wisdom shall not shine
(Gnostic poem based on the ancient Roman Virgil's fourth eclogue, often interpreted as foretelling the birth of Christ)
There could be rats and snakes hiding in here.
Yes, I am talking about asps and cobras, big ones.
Hiding under the bed, no, not in my head, under my bed.
Okay, what about way back there, in the darkest corner?
Did you check out THAT corner? My voice is rising. I hear it crack.
Better take my flashlight and look hard this time. No, not in my head.
Under my bed.
Well, no the rat would not be. He is hiding in the closet.
A big gray monster with that hideously ugly pink rat tail.
He is probably under that pile of clothes. Not that pile, the other pile.
It might take you awhile to find him. He’s really sneaky.
Probably eating my new jacket.
Can you read me another story while you are here and can I have
two more cookies? What about a drink of water? I am thirsty.
And I have to go to the bathroom again. No, don’t leave, yet.
If you do, I am a goner. Please leave the flashlight, PLEASE!
When spoken to talk lightly,
I have no good advice.
A King of cobras answered me
What he told me then was this.
"There are different things to say
Different things to do
A different path to choose
A different way that you lose. . ."
I didn't hear you clearly;
I didn't catch your name.
Fire burns my conscience,
But no one is to blame.
"Others walk a silken thread,
Others never knew.
Little are those things I know
I never knew I knew."
A cobra and a liar;
A Beggar and a thief!
A missing intuition
Without meaning or belief.
"You are other things you say,
You are half a day;
You would answer callously
And I would go away."
Who would ask me what you know?
Who would like your name?
No one told you endlessly
That I am just the same!
"Walk or talk in bargains;
Sell me for a price.
Your conscience has the upper hand,
And I was never nice."
Yes as inspired by great poet Brian Johnston, I retitle this, ''God's kind of poetry.''
Glorify the Great
Architect
Awesome artist of nature
Author of the universe,
Glorify God
for beauty infinite,
For the markings bedecked
for the striped and the spotted,
The mottled and the dotted
for the gold bedecked
for the glint 'n' glitter bespangled
For the fawns speckled
And other animals dappled.
The cobras bespectacled!
Variety in flora and fauna.
His creation's so beauteous
whether it hath markings
or be it plain,
it's all simply wondrous.
But for God's sake, let that fur
be left solely on its owner
for poachers don't own it
nor do they the python's skin.
So hunters and poachers beware
Unless nobody does care
any longer
if beauty be extinct!
Opt for other options
for your pillowcasing eiderdowns
Don't strip the feathered fauna
of their fine downy gowns!
Be ye cautious about culling or killing
Let no blood be rapaciously spilling
So forever humanbeings may admire
God's stippled effects on animals
And His ripple effect on river canals!
Welcome to the market place of the best in all mankind
buy paintings of imaginings with brushstrokes of the mind.
Words of vivd colour, tapestries of rhyme are shown,
your ears filled with the consonant sound of verses being sewn.
Watch as pots of raw emotion, mixed before your eyes
intelligently kneaded, put aside and left to rise.
Heated with strong passion piping hot straight from the bowl
with floating alphabet croutons to fill your hungry soul.
The Haiku makes a three course meal
and Senryus as well,
Acrostics you'll find satisfying, only for a short spell.
These artisans a hearty bunch, the kind you can rely on,
their aprons used to dry your tears, and
shoulders you can cry on.
The clanging from the wordsmith's forge, as new verses are pressed,
fragrant couplets blossoming, the nectar of the blessed.
A vibrant buzz in alleyways and shadowy secret places,
a warm and friendly welcome to the boatloads of new faces.
No haggling and waving hands, negotiating price,
from ABC to Villanelle it's all free (which is nice).
No chance of meeting Cobras here, so please don't be alarmed,
it's just the meter, rhythm and rhyme that leave customers charmed.
Enjoy yourself, feel free to roam, we're open every day,
there's space here for a stall for you, like us-
you're bound to stay x
Part Three
...swishing away with your sunshrivelled burgundy knotty arms with broad disdainful harvesting sweeps the cobras come out to water in the sweltering heat by the thatched fly-buzzed hole
your low under-the-breath warning tones a reminder of the will of your self-inflicted charge
you never ate until i gorged myself
like the dutiful wife given with a dowry
watching me all the time through the shield of the wisp of cloud of cheroot smoke in your sentinel corner against the far wall your eyes glinting fearing that i might take exception and even before my plate was half-empty you had already darted across the kitchen floor to bring me more fried brinjals mashed greens fried and sliced plantain the steaming rice lying bare by its metal cover hanging on the lip of the open pot-mouth in a clear aluminium pot by my side
now they say you are gone for some plotted and took your life in haste
even before you had time to ensure an heir
others say you were alone dismayed abandoned by your own
prey to enchanters coveting
the plot of land the house derelict forsaken by your absence
they say some one else caretakes it for himself
others no a forbidden son of your husband’s has raked it for himself
alas would you have known how landless nationless stateless i’d be
this dot of ancestral land clinging-clanging in memory
did you know then you might never see me again
nor probably ever hear of me
or if you had how might you have taken it all
did you believe the tales true and false they told
or only what you wanted to hear
of your precious prince you once served in silence and
who had gone to slave in other lands
Notes
eevaa peerankal muuvaa marunthu is a take on another well-known Tamil proverb: eevaa makkal muuvaa marunthu meaning “children who obey even before the order is given are a God-send”. Here, in lieu of children, the word “grandparents” is substituted
chembu: a small usually copper vessel shaped like a rounded vase with a tapering neck and open mouth, used for holding drinking water or milk
kuul: thick holdall gruel which may also be highly spiced
chemman: red soil
Vaithi: ayurvedic doctor, practising the traditional Indian homeopathic medicine
© T.Wignesan 1997 - Paris May 7, 1997 (from the Sequence/Collection: "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent")
Ferocious, East Asian, Siberian Tigers purposely without a conscience, killing crocodiles to feed their children, cobras spitting a paralyzing, vicious venom, God give it, then take it, Life or Death couldn’t occur without his gorgeous, perspicuous permission, souls spacious, her heart’s vacant, blood is thicker than muddy water, possibly depending on this occasion, love without trust, kills most situations which fuels a grueling frustration, ants eating maggots regurgitation, now we run around Rich on Masta’s plantation, beforehand we got hung upside down castrated, slave owners watching our women masturbating, raping them on purpose, to lighten this fabricated nation, anacondas sitting on clouds killing, then eating that thundering lightning, while that tiger sits -n- watches for what he sees is enticing, Life is Beautiful, yet ugly with her many faces of sacrifices, in Life we must make sacrifices, for Life, even though we subtract from the value of it, it’s priceless.
Sacrifices
That’s
What Life is
Your heart is a stone
inscribed with cobras, vultures, ribs and reed.
You say what I see is not what you mean.
You confound me with sounds.
One word is a zoo
with water that ripples—
an arm in the pool.
My love is a laser
that dazzles the screen
projecting an image, an effortless read.
And you, so resilient, but ancient, alone
mistrust my projections unscripted in stone.
I can’t help but love an uncrackable code.
With heart holographic, this coupling can float.
May 8 2016
for Hieroglyphs and Holograms Contest
Across great plains, in rich soil valleys
beneath breathtaking, bold painted skies
amber cobras dance on graceful stems
swaying to refrains of flowing rhapsodies
Mariah plays for them on a whimsical flute
whistling notes float along on wind songs
hypnotized by her gentle rhythmic breezes
they bend and dip in choreographed allegro
She's a curse and a blessing.
A giving of wings and a damnation.
The sins of her soul are calling,
Amidst a beautiful song of loving version.
Her demons they dance in unison,
Her angels blow their horns in rhythmic cords.
She'll suck your poison and seal your burden,
Lifting your heart onto the saddle of a black horse.
She'll ride you into the sunset lulling you to sleep,
Whispering promises of a life laden with dreams.
A land where, within soil, innocent blood runs deep.
Trees are withered and barren glowing in moonbeams.
Her mask will fall away and she'll begin to screech.
Her hair will fall in cobras, hissing and baring their teeth.
Your fingers will ache to grab the reigns still out of reach.
The earth will shudder, overflow, and crack beneath.
Millions of sinning souls will fill the chrispened air.
Your mind will want to believe this is only fiction.
As you sink into blood soaked earth, you despair.
Love is not always lifting. It's a decaying addiction.
Snake has been created to deter,
A symbol of power, sex and fear,
Equated with Satan Lucifer and demons in rear,
History where, millions of species,
To speak about listen and hear,
They are Pythons longer enough to devour,
An entire human and swallow him and more,
Anacondas that make your body shiver,
And plenty of fairy and fact stories and lore,
To inform your kind and enrich your folklore,
Adders, vipers and spitting cobras,
That all leave you awake,
Able to cause you death and blindness fainting and ache,
The secret of creation which the Lord could make,
And other species that camouflage themselves and fake,
You in deep jungles, rivers and forests and the alike!
Billowing nimbus writhe in charcoal sky,
zephyr winds whisk waves over briny seas.
I watch, observing clouds hastening by
on showery Summer days such as these,
as crystal raindrops soak my thin chemise.
I seek shelter 'neath a swaying date palm,
my wet hair; cobras, dancing in the breeze.
Then the rain abated; the sea grew calm,
sweet petrichor rising, its scent a soothing balm.
SUMMER RAIN STORM(2) Spencerian Stanza Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Dale Gregory Cozart
n/a in contest judged 7/9/18
Submitted to poem na'd in a July contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart a.k.a broken wings
ABABBCBCC checked with rhymezone and how many syllables
6/15/18
Today you are seventeen years old;
We have brought to you our lineage gold.
We have brought our swiss vevelt lace
And sweet powder for your cherubic face.
Happy we are you are not a "broodlord":
The broodlords, the unhatched -
They say eagles waft in the air,
They see marauding cobras in the jungle,
They shrug at the pain of laying,
Grimace at the fast of brooding;
Tick, tick,tick; broodlords rot the eggs.
March 17 you broke the wall;
The honey was not spilled, the jar was not broken.
Seventeen years now you are pruning your wings.
Sweet to see you bristling your breast.
Happy birthday my baby girl;
Next year I shall greet you again.
For my daughter, Amogemola, on her seventeenth year birthday.