Best Serpent Poems
Slippery Sam the serpent sang songs.
About sexy slitherers in thongs.
The tunes were quite crass.
Cause thongs up their ... .
Let's face it, that just never belongs.
My apologies for being smutty. I think my mind is rotting.
The serpent's evil doctrine he'd tried to inflict
Tore peaceful communities assunder; causing conflict
The ghost soldiers would come in the dead of night
Taking on the evil serpent with firepower and might.
They would infiltrate the serpent's lair and be in disguise
And unleash hit and run tactics with the element of surprise
This enraged the serpent who put a price on their head
And he would pray to his god of evil; wishing them all dead.
It was in the Middle East that the serpent came to light
Waged a killing spree thinking it was his god given right
All the ghost soldiers' had to do was follow the trail of the dead
Then corner the evil serpent and cut off its head.
Offsprings of the serpent are now starting to nourish
But our civilised world must ensure they don't flourish
All nations must come together and stop this pure evil
And stop innocent people from suffering unnecessary upheaval.
Our world would live in fear but for the ghost soldier's sacrifice
But to rid the world from evil someone pays a heavy price
Some of these ghost soldiers paid with their lives
And would do it again to ensure; evil no longer thrives.
Written 24th February 2020.
Dedicated to the special forces of many nations who waged a behind the scenes war on ISIS in the Middle East.
Their covert missions' helped bring about the end of the self proclaimed caliphate and freed many people who were slaves' to ISIS.
The caliphate is no more but the behind the scenes war continues to this day.
Twilight fell onto my
windowsill
Demon fire in full
retreat
The stars above
glowing pulls on a rug
Woven deep into the blackness
I sleep
Days grip is unchained
the cantor sings as he prays
As St. Michael cries
THE SERPENT UNDONE
The sun has now left
though your dreams not bereft
Only the night
—points to heaven above
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
GARDEN OF THE HEART
I am the Garden
in me all things live
in me nothing is forgotten
here we enter
after being done with the Serpent
flamed or in darkness
when the Cross enters from below
we die, never to be reborn
Over naked breasts and belly
shadows dissolve in milk and manna
transmuted to rainbows of gold
in the body of the Magdalena
droplets dance fiery ice
where Power is gained through
entry into the Garden of the Heart
another way then becomes the forgotten
Nothing more entices, no fleshly desire lingers
wisdom is my key to the
Gate of Chrysanthemum Purity
where Patience is enthroned at the
fulcrum of two spheres
after we’ve climbed ladders of courage
listened to mournful entreaties, tolling gongs
shook hands with Keepers of Freedom
Our giving becomes our taking
Separation, the Union
the going, a returning
returning, our resting where the
Centre of Silvery Strands is Stillness
born of angels and white doves
as Truth cloaks, after paying
in sweat and tight purple silences
Few know how the Garden imbues
or how matrix minds dissolved or
what a tiny imprint is hidden in the
Palm of God-Goddess where the
Palm of Blood and Thorns
washed us from the shores of
ancient lands into the
moistness of I N F I N I T Y
SERPENTS’ SOIREE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slinking silently, a slithering sight,
Seven silly snakes, under starlit night,
Sassy scales shimmering, shining so bright,
Sipped sweet scotch, subtle, smooth, and smokey,
Seeking to score and swap silly stories.
The Infernal Serpent
coiled ’round the soul of man
strangles the love and understanding
imbued by the Creator
supplanting it with hatred and distrust.
The result
conflict
Collection: Attaining Peace
Written: June 2019
Warm smooth coils round
my head
scales tickle my forehead
I want to scratch
quick tongue laps my ear
The body moves… languid
like water over smooth rock
Or is the snake inside
my head?
Is there only one or many
seething and writhing?
Is the poison real or
imaginary?
If I move too fast or
think too fast
will it?…they…
strike?
If they strike will my death be
only in my mind?
If not entirely in my head
will anyone grieve?
Trisha Sugarek
Butterflies and Bullets
I saw it on a stormy night
When lightning struck the sea,
The waves crushed on the sand with might
the wind howled endlessly.
I stood upon the midnight shore
The rain cold on my face,
The echo of the oceans roar
A haunting sound embrace.
Then with the lightning flash I saw
A creature through the mist,
It’s slender neck rose with the roar
Of lightning, and it hissed.
Its oval head with glowing eyes
A moment caught in light,
A creature found in myths and lies
I saw within that night.
Then with that moment it was gone
Yet in my memory,
I see it in the lightning’s sun
A serpent in the sea.
The Serpent
The government is camouflage in optimism.
As the serpent, the government begins to drop wisdom.
Making you believe everything is for the best.
Only to ended up in our community chest.
Slither from the governments nest.
In our hands is where this serpent rest.
Controlling “We the people” and the media that we absorb and view, and what we learn today in our schools.
A landscape of political paintings views start-building walls of oppression.
The severity of hardship we are puppets of our government.
As the ideals of modern society start crumbling, of dullness and diluted spirits”
Leaving “We as the people” pessimistic.
As the stripes on the American, flag divides red symbolizing bloodshed cries.
White represents a blank unprinted advertisement between citizens and government.
Division and separation we react to negative authoritative regulations.
Coming from the politicians the reputation and representatives of our government.
Leaving us damaged or altered we also become this, united we stand.
The serpent.
I am the one who once traveled by flight and foot
And now I slither around on my round-body
My tongue has always been and still is split in half
In my first stage of life my speeches consisted of fire-bursts, ice-shards, smoke rings, and whirling-wild-winds
Now my speeches are speedy rollings-of-the-tongues and a-spitting venom-filled saliva
Horned was I back in the days after I had hatched out of my egg
Now my mushroom-like head consists of my eyes, my nostrils, and my ears
Once I had massive teeth to help me emasculate my food
And now I must swallow all of my food whole
Many primitive cultures have used me as a symbol for both good and evil
I symbolize the Morning Star, and have been blessed with many different names
Nevertheless, I am worshiped by many cultures of mankind as a powerful being
I am the Light-Bringer, and the Knowledge-Bringer to mankind and am similar to Prometheus
I seduced Eve to bite the apple in order that she may have knowledge and become like Yahweh
I am also Quetzalcoatl, the revered sky god of the Aztecs
Without the symbolism that mankind has placed upon me I am nothing more than a plain reptile
Tali Karng : le Serpent du Crépuscule – Translation of W. Les Russell’s « Tali Karng : Twilight Snake » by T. Wignesan
(W.Les Russell, b. 1949 in Melbourne, joined the Royal Australian Navy – where he received training in photography – in 1965. He soon found himself at odds with the hierarchy, and so he requested and obtained an honorable discharge in 1970. He worked for the Education Department in Victoria for ten years as a photographer, and thereafter served on many levels on various aboriginal uplift bodies in Victoria and Queensland ; in the latter state, he helped to make the Aboriginal Mining Information Centre, according to Kevin Gilbert in Inside Black Australia, 1988: « …one of the largest indigenous research bodies in the world… », and says of this poem in English that it « shows a control and imagery far beyond the parameters of the majority of Australian poets to that greater universal level beyond country, beyond life. ») T. Wignesan, Paris, December 14, 2016.
Tali Karng : the serpent du crépuscule :
Dans le cratère se trouve le lac.
L’eau brun roux : peu claire profonde ;
Le lac froid : un lit des feuilles et des écorces
Déchiqueté raide le mur du cratère
Tous couverts gris vert imposants
Plantes alpines et Cendres de Montagne
Où des oiseaux délicats de plumage éclatant cabriolent
D’une branche à l’autre en chantant d’une voix douce
Jusqu’à l’arrivée subite du soir doré
Et :
Tali Karng : le serpent du crépuscule :
Est en train de chasser près des eaux du lac.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
He's on Her, Like The Serpent,
Beginning A Social-Disease,
Uncontrolled, Speaking VooDoo,
Dolls Talk, Forcefully Desired,
Now Emerges, Into Flow, As Their,
Blood Creases, Under Skin, Sharply
Sticked Needles, Through Out,
A Burning Fire, Between them,
Where Their Bodies, Serve, Hunger
On A Platter, Sacrificed, As They Gore,
Eyes For Each-other, And The Rainbow,
Shines It's Everlasting Light, Among,
The Nightly Golden Moon, GODESS sky....
(Maya mythology or Mayan civilization describes a Sacred Serpent or Vision serpent as being the vehicles by which celestial bodies, such as the sun and stars, cross the heavens. The shedding of their skin made them a symbol of rebirth and renewal. In Yoga it is called Kundalini)
Spirited, chromatic flare, igniting
Force, energy for creativity
Enough sense for solution and secret
Within your stomach I am the answer
For ever I have been fitted within you
A lambent lotus, a crest of the light
I am the cause why you get awakened
Within your stomach I am the answer.
Am a sacred serpent lying coiled
You have to stir me to for full arousal
And with a speed of a sound
Within your stomach I am the answer
Your animating passion I will open
Guiding you to the room of pure love
Like a silken lotus you will be adorned
Within your stomach I am the answer
+++++
Date 8-12-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form: Free Verse
The theme chosen is 5) Spiritual
Fifth place win
Contest : In the Faraway byGiorgio V.
So the tree stood in the centre of the desert
mangled by winds of change and truth of joy
chains of dust and torrents of rare rain
Burnt black and senseless by an
unrelenting Sun of nightmare beauty
orange was the sand of scorpions
orange was the mirage of miracles
orange was her veil of innocence
As the tree stank of heavenly myrrh
itched to pour its oil over orange
nippled breasts and buttocks
stroke curves and carves
of luminous beauty with its
ancient branches of stony bark
as beetles made holy love in its
crevices of dark deep velvet depth
And the mangled magic of the myrrh
stood short and stumped and watched
the breath of a timeless desert
slow movements of noble camels
with long thick lashes speaking of
magnificent slowness in the lick of lick
a lip in a lip
Tree of a thousand loves
sprinklings in sparkles spaced
over a tent of chiffon on sand
slithering with patterned serpents
and eyes of dark magic, of long
limbs all in One
twine and twine and grow together
as all become One
with myrrh and magic
heavy beads of sweat and
amber laugh and scream
Moments of a tree of ugly love
as ugly melts into vacant beauty
irresistible wordless wrinkles ageless
Deep furrows of sweet scent
sent desert creatures weeping
to smiling stars as a tree of life
stood stock still to imbibe
eternal myrrh itself
Mirrors remind her she must live alone
Everything she sees, she turns to stone
Dismal future she now faces
Ugly snakes upon her head like laces
She is a gorgon, Medusa is her name
Athena punished her, for beauty was her shame