Best Snags Poems
With Your Voice I Sail
My voice
may stumble, failing
a clear path to trace but
your smiling voice always steers me
clear of snags and boulders and, as I pass
through stormy waters, you alone can light
the clearest path to shore. With your voice, songs,
fragrance filled, unfurl their sails and freely flow
on the streams of my mind, and my grief now lies at ease
as dark words like giant fallen trees are left untouched
on some distant battlefield, and I can glide out of
the wind’s shadow, in the rhythm of time,
words billowing soft out of my mind.
Categories:
snags, friendship, hope, words,
Form:
Concrete
On a path laid as a snake,
Trodden down a winding wake,
Curls and slithers into night,
To thrones of ever-dimming light;
I hold still and gripped with feeling
In a mist that wraps concealing,
And I glimpse her flicker by
From the corner of my eye.
Heartless granite fissures break
At prayers to God of souls to take,
In their vessels bled to white,
Shells of failure and of blight;
It snares and snags as ivy veins,
Upon the brickwork, grasps and strains,
And I catch her ribbons fly
From the corner of my eye.
Set adrift in this domain,
The dead volcanoes that refrain,
Never smoking nor erupt
For the end was sharp, abrupt;
I feel the ether of despair
Envelope skin with frosted air,
I spot the crystals melt and die
From the corner of my eye.
No space for sorrow to explain,
To tell how love was savaged, slain,
The stir of breath can bare disrupt
Or wall of silence interrupt;
A fear of days, in truth, compare
With nights that always hunger there,
Unguarded moments, her I spy
From the corner of my eye.
Categories:
snags, loss, lost love, love,
Form:
Verse
Written: July 17, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Quote: "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words," By Poet
*********
It glides—not gently,
but akin to a scrupulous scalpel,
a syllabic salve for rusted throats
and trapped desires.
It drips down the well of grief,
melting into metaphor,
softening jagged memories
into pains that are easier to bear.
This poetry is not serene.
It is slick with secrets
and greasy with grammar's
serpentine filth,
and sentences thrum
through the engine of anguish.
You utter the words,
and the universe starts to shift.
A bearing in the brain,
a balm under the bruises,
and syntax strung, such as silk
between broken cogs of memory.
Each line is dense.
Each verse unwinds—
caught in the hinge of desire and pain.
Essence of the oracle,
gleam of refinement.
Let it spread:
a rhythm that caresses,
a mouthful of taut truths
seeping through the snags of silence.
Categories:
snags, analogy, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
tap of nails, slide wood, pull drapes
stains loiter in round mug shapes
water sipped, books stack, words leap
hush wizened pages, neighbors sleep
journals, confessionals, down or up
old cartridge spills, pens horde in cup
shackled hands, lungs breathe, heart drums
an empty tissue box, lamp hums
Try, stay busy, must forget
One more read, she might regret
mordacious night, she wakes from sleep
her bursting thoughts alone must keep
pack nightstand, smooth trifle snags
slip his book in its carry-on bag
His words elicit songs in ear
from his masterpiece, held dear
open drawer, last book in pile
bottom of the heap, exiled
giving in, she dares to rest
his hard cover on her chest
remove jacket, ne’er oppress
dust off passion and caress
thumb his chapters, breathe him in
recite his name and notes again
too much cologne, too much sweat
open pages, fan her breast
She knows he does not write for her
emotions shatter, dreams endure
she scribbles margins in duress
between his lines, her discontent
the nightstand drawer hides her distress
she’s indexed under “o”, obsessed
Written 4/4/17 for Eight Word Challenge Contest
Categories:
snags, books, crush, longing, night,
Form:
Rhyme
I love a sunburnt Aussie bloke, with great big, muscled arms,
His rugged well-built shoulders, and face with all its charms.
I love his thongs and singlet too, and stubby shorts you see,
His beer gut proudly hanging out, he is the one for me,
I love his Aussie greeting way “‘G’day mate” when we meet
His laugh so loud, make no mistake, you’ll know him in the street.
I love the Aussie Sheila too, she’s really trim and taught.
Long legs, tight skirt, big bust, great smile, a real good-looking sort.
I love her when she’s on the beach, bikini clad real brown,
Or when she meets her friends for lunch, all dressed up for the town.
I love her friendly way she says “G’day mate” when we meet
Her laugh so loud, make now mistake you’ll know her in the street.
I love an Aussie BBQ, with lamb chops, snags, and steak
And ‘Big Red’ sauce, a loaf of bread, some salads we do make.
I love the Aussie breakfast time with Vegemite on toast
Or Sunday lunch no better that an Aussie dinkum roast.
I love our wine and spirits too, but best is Aussie beer
It’s Fosters, Gold or Tooheys Blue, you won’t find soft drink here.
I love our sport, we watch a lot, of course we are the best,
We’re always fair, we understand, just better than the rest.
I love the Aussie rules we play, that’s football, not ping pong
And how the crowds call out real loud if the umpie gets it wrong.
I love the summer tennis too; it’s watched by young and old
Or a cricket match the Aussie way, dressed in the green and gold.
I love our patriotic style, the anthem that is sung
‘Advance Australia Fair’ I think, don’t know the words just hum.
I love our multi-cultural race, from lands quite near and far,
As a nation proud we do stand because that is who we are.
I love the freedom that we have, our wide brown land to roam
This place we call Australia; this place we call our home.
Categories:
snags, humorous,
Form:
Ballad
Am I forced to watch you leave again?
My hand is left holding empty air
hadn’t I just held you as we walked?
And now, there is need for repair.
For there is a stitch in my heartbeat,
it snags on something in my chest
another broken piece of myself
left trapped inside my breast.
You took the photo; I got the empty frame,
left me to sift through the debris
couldn’t you try to say more carefully
that you no longer needed me?
The glass that’s on the floor
is the aftermath of our destruction?
It mirrors the repairs to be had on the inside
as the heart attempts reconstruction.
Categories:
snags, angst, lost love
Form:
Rhyme
It has come to my attention,
That all's not as it seems;
For people see things differently,
Describing the same scene.
Some may find the howling wind,
A mournful, restive cry,
While others may describe it,
As a peaceful lullaby.
Some people find the rain drops,
Upon their window pane,
Monotonous, annoying,
And dreary, cold the rain.
A sunny day is sweltering.
Some find it way too hot.
Others say enjoy the warmth,
Relaxing on a cot.
A neighbor may keep to himself,
Seems rarely to go out.
Some will wonder 'bout this man,
Just what is he about.
A lady seems so happy,
Outgoing, so care free.
Some will say that she's a flirt.
Not a lady she.
It really doesn't matter,
What could be the situation.
Some will see the goodness,
And others consternation.
You're more at peace within yourself,
And happier by far,
If you step around the puddles,
And don't look for snags and barbs.
Categories:
snags, allusion, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
Only on his veranda does he feel like the king of his castle
No better place to put up his feet and take stock
Much gratitude swells when he sits back with contentment
Years of dedication behind him, of planning and hard work
Voluptuous dreams both come true and anticipated
Enraptured in reverie that nurtures peace of mind
Recognizing a moment that’s wrapped in perfection
Adventurous conquests in harmony with life’s snags and hurdles
Nowhere more than on his veranda does bliss seem timeless
Daring not to challenge the ephemeral balance of prosperity
Affluence by any other name in a great country of opportunity
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~A SIMPLE MAN~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on October 31, 2018
Categories:
snags, appreciation, dream, happiness, home,
Form:
Acrostic
With speedy, gutsy ease
her Irish father rolls up the front room rug
Gaelic music lathers the air in merriment
Nelligen at 8, composed
snags our attention
in hard shoe clicking
her rapid, intricate footwork
its drumming effect, a heart pulsating
Nell's rigid torso
that trails upward to white-blond hair
bouncing,
catching light like weightless feathers
Small feet in black hard shoes
tapping
from toes to heels
Image fixed in place like her pale rose-bud skin
Up against the wall, I mimic her movements
My feet a tangled jigsaw
She laughs, kisses my cheek, tousles my hair
like tufts of grass
At 9, I want to go to her, to cradle her state of grace
for however long we are children
The suddenness of age frames our winter
A peer backwards through a series of lenses
to stitched moments that slide in memory
foot taps through our rooms
I know full well that I am responsible for my own mis-steps
for sitting out her dances
for never solving most puzzles
even when I pull back
from now
Poem composed: June 13, 2021
Categories:
snags, age, child, children, dance,
Form:
Free verse
“Should we deny ourselves pain, we would deny ourselves entry through many doors in our heart leading to where our soul patiently waits.” Poet
Many cannot conceive truths the faithful believe,
such as jagged edges lead us to deep places
where tranquility waits to be reality.
If only brains could disengage that souls alone
decided what to leave behind or closely hold.
When I stumble from life's roughness and bruises swell,
I cannot help but deep dwell in my heart and soul
where my injured bits sit ripped in cramped, frozen fits.
If we do not hurt, we do not bleed a true need
to learn which medical aids best persuade healings.
Life often snags me in jagged edged episodes
until I repair all frailty-stretched through prayer
and place it in my Father's hands of perfect grace.
The more jagged edges adhere, tagged for repair,
the more need we build to yearn for and turn to God
which grows awareness of our true depth caresses.
Fear no roughness on your heart but recall toughness
in your faith that will divinely define what gift
the rift can bring forth, be it soul growth or knowledge.
Jagged edges can teach us more than a college.
Categories:
snags, angst, conflict, deep, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
Porridge is ploppy' broth is real thin..
However this true 'soup of poetry' fills things up to the brim..
I'll admit its sometimes murky... yet its flavours real strong...'
its long on warm welcomes to whoever jumps in'
It can be hot at the bottom and bubbly on top;
I hope that your senses can take in a lot.
There’s lumps in the mixture that can challenge your swallow;
But if you stick with your portion you'll see how it beats imitators hollow.
I've hit a few snags.. I'll admit there are trials,
Yet the Judges aren't for 'hanging'
(I mean they make decisions sometimes) L O L...
Now I don't put that in verses, well I hadn't till now
It probably won't Rhyme, but it’s to late anyhow,
Now just where was I? Oh yes you must try,
And keep 'a circulating or you might boil the pot dry.'
I've been trapped in the bubbles that might be silly to you
But the old silly-bubbles do get me in a stew,
If you bite down on one, and you hear a slight ahh!
It’s either a soft or a hard one, now you may not be sure,
Like the egg and the chicken... That got squashed by a car;
It can be quite academic, if you make it that far,
and if that does happen,
That you travel that road,
A nice plump 'foul' wouldn’t hurt ,if its in the brew throwed
If the egg isn't seen, I don't give a dang.!
Pop that bird in the pot, that'll be just the thang....
©Joe Maverick 30-11-2013
Categories:
snags, community,
Form:
Light Verse
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
that’s a cog in the natural wheel
flowing longer than mans’…
time upon earth
and home for the blackfish and eel.
They say that the time of the crayfish
goes back to the dinosaurs’ day
and rocks that are fighting…
the endless flow
ever slowly, have eroded away.
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
fighting the log on a bend,
diverting through snags…
rippling on sand
finding it’s own way to wend.
Platypus live in a backwater swirl,
where flotsam is blending with foam
a track has been worn…
down from the bank
and leads to a water-rats home.
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
Well guarded by wattle and gum.
Sword grass and fern…
ti-tree and hazel
are providing a haven for some.
The parrot and fantail along with the bellbird
create many tunes in this vale.
Whistles and shrieks…
one syllable notes
or the currawongs’ melodic wail.
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
where I am a gourmet delight
for march fly and leech…
bush fly, mosquito
or the bull-ant’s unbearable bite.
There has been flood when the river runs wild,
and the land is totally drenched,
the litter from hills…
is wrapped around trees
with mountain silt weakly entrenched.
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
with a calming appeal for my mind,
Where I can sit…
where I contemplate.
It’s a place to completely unwind.
Nature has given me more than the peace
in the harmony it does deliver
here in the valley…
pristine, unspoiled,
on a time-honoured stretch of a river.
Categories:
snags, nature, river,
Form:
Here squats a Black Widow spider,
who sups a swig of sweet cider.
He spies her there,
scoots close to share
and sips the hot brew beside 'er.
She darts with aim to devour,
her size gives her lethal power.
She fakes a hug,
then snags him snug;
true bliss defines his last hour.
For some who deceive are gifted
to mask when power is shifted.
The prey's surprise—
he's soon incised—
his parts all broken and sifted.
Categories:
snags, betrayal, food, humorous, insect,
Form:
Limerick
(A Double Divine-form not include in your list)
She digs into her pocket's hollow space
and snags a tissue, swipes her eyes.
Her fingers touch a bar,
a rich, dark treat.
She chooses dash as treasure's resting place
then cranks the key, gets a surprise
when heater in her car
melts hoarded sweet.
She zooms around her town without a care
yet feels her appetite evolve,
while scent from heater vent
plays a coquette.
She knows the fault is hers but deems unfair
as still her nose betrays resolve
and brings about consent
to buy briquette.
Categories:
snags, candy, car, chocolate,
Form:
Carpe Diem
I've been caught in a web of lies
As filthy as that beast crawling;
Along each thread, I wonder how
It flexes; does a lie retain it's shape
After stretching to the limit?
Or does it snap and free the prey?
Look closely at the silk
Do you not see that all its ilk
Bears resemblance to the one nearby?
Just pluck at the string
And hear it ring
And listen to them mutter.
Sometimes the web of lies is spun
Not by many, but by one
The one that snags on the sticky thread;
And struggles, then the web is woven
You can't escape the tightened net
It only narrows when you push
Notice the geometry of the intricate web
A Devil's star; the molecules stab
Across the middle into an anvil
It reverberates; then entropy wipes out
The vibration you'll always hear and spout
Until the pincers go right past your chin
Categories:
snags, allegory
Form: