Best Snake Poems
I was thirteen and you...well you, a sophomore by then..
that night you stopped by to see me, at the Jr high game.
Friends most of our lives..you called me "kid" and I loved it when you did!
Hey "kid" come go for a ride on my new motorcycle!
The night was cool..you slipped your leather football jacket around me and
we both laughed as I disappeared into its sleeves.
What would I have to give to once again relive .. the way you looked at me just then?
As though you'd never really seen me before..like I was no longer a kid..
Your big hands gently touching my face..fingers running through my long
black hair..carefully exploring my mouth as though you were tasting my smiles..
Suddenly, you jumped back like you had just been snake bitten,
and we were both laughing again.....
You never called me "kid" again...
I never told you, that was my first kiss..
12-8-2013
©Donna Jones
Dad had threatened for some time, to reclaim the land behind the shed,
where rubbish over many years, had stockpiled but now instead
of being easy to be shifted, blackberries, docks and thistles grow,
entwining history of ours… and you know we didn’t know.
Mum cracked the whip one Sunday, handing out the different tools
for us to shovel, fork, pick and slash; of course she made the rules.
We weren’t to stop until the rubbish, had been cleared and left to show
a barren space to be landscaped… and you know we didn’t know.
Johnny parked the truck close to where we’d easily load the tray.
First we had to slash blackberries, to open up a pathway.
Old fencing wire and bent droppers, we pulled and tugged. The work was slow.
Plus bits of motors, old oil filters… and still we didn’t know.
The ‘Old Man’ knocked a stump out I can’t remember being a tree,
it disintegrated into pieces; white ant workings I could see.
Plastic pots and old fuel drums, onto the tray we heave and throw.
Just on half the plots been cleaned up now… and still we didn’t know.
A concrete trough and a mattress spring, mesh from an old birdcage.
A kitchen sink broken in two and a pushbike at some stage.
Sardine tins, a barrow bowl, and a seized up mower that won’t mow,
now there’s just one corner left to clean… and still we didn’t know.
A stack of roofing iron near the fence; the last that had to go.
One by one we dragged the rusting sheets… and still we didn’t know.
Dad picked up the final sheet, and then he quickly threw it down again.
His face was white and ‘cripes’ he shook… we ‘bloody-well’ knew then.
She has eyes like a magnet, that pulls one in
To a steel web where there is no escape
Then she licks her lips as she watches you
Tease and taunt you, tell you where you have been
And her evil smile, that is her type of rape
Telling you what will happen to you
A Black Widow Spider's heart and cold to the bone
A forked tongue of a snake and she will hiss
The Devil's child, you are her toy
The Queen of Evil sits on her throne
The kiss of death is her kiss
It is you she wants to destroy
You search for a way out, you beg to be free
Desperate, as if there is no hope
Crawling you are at your wit's end
She begs you to flee
To hang yourself, she gives you more rope
Then hugs you like a long lost friend
Freedom is something in a long lost dream
To the salt mines, ball and chain
Her poison, is your water to drink
All the time she is thinking of another evil scheme
So her pleasure will be your pain
Escape, is all you can think
For every tunnel has some light
After a fog lifts, there will be sunshine
Following every storm, it will be calmer
Sometimes it takes a lot of wrong to be right
And goodness will not die on the vine
Even the snake will bite the snake charmer
SNAKE OIL SUNRISE
coiled lies an oily snake
circling the rim of the cup
eschewing the softness of milk
the sweetness of sugar.
A black hole – waiting – beckoning
the bleary-eyed robot
leaving a scent trail
harsh, uncivilized,
unadulterated,
psyche popping
caffeine.
11/30/2016
submitted to WAKE UP WITH COFFEE OR TEA CONTEST – Poetry Contest
In a covered wagon he travelled west
For every ailment he had a cure
His miracle oil he claimed was the best
People he conned were the sick and the poor.
In remote towns he would set up his scam
Helped by two' friends' in the crowd for his trick
Who' volunteered' but were part of the sham
Arthur the cripple and poor sighted Mick.
But they were fed up of his trickery
And exposed him to the crowd in the town
The conman shouted" Mick what can you see"?
Mick said "nothing, I heard Arthur fall down"
Snake oilman was speechless and he went pale
The townsfolk seized him and threw him in jail.
Written on 30th December 2018
By 3 a.m. he often would awake
I’d feel the bed shake. . .
shake. . . shake. . .
He’d say my name and ask:
Are you awake?
I knew inside he quaked. . .
quaked. . . quaked. . .
He could not sleep, so nor could I.
The essence of his being ached. . .
ached. . . . ached. . .
I only could console; I could not kill
that awful pain that rakes. . .
rakes. . . rakes. . .
The snake invades one’s brain to
poison sleep. Maliciously it waits. . .
waits. . . waits. . .
until the darkened morning
when it creeps.
He’d weep, and for his sake
I’d pray. . . for day.
Written about my husband when his depression/anxiety were very bad at one time.
I walked my dog down by the junction
When he had a canine malfunction
He jumped on a snake
A bite he did take
And now he has reptile dysfunction.
Have a Guiness and let’s toast St. Patrick
Whether laddie, lass or old codger geriatric
A bold gent with such clout
All Eire’s snakes he shooed out
Never has there been a saint so theatric!
Robert
I am an old codger geriatric
But I will raise a toast to ST. Patrick
For shooing those snakes
Away for our sakes
He definitely was Saint Fantastic
Beryl
Dear snake charmer, i see you brought your lucky charm
Go ahead and tame the poison in my bloodstream
Quell the anger in my snare, do the impossible and tame time
Make the audience clap for me, or you
Who cares anyway? as long as we steal every ounce of their attention
I just wanna play a little, fool around without sinking my fangs into your warm skin
I forgot how to kiss so all i'm left with is a hiss
Toy with my body but make sure i don't wrap myself around you
For the last time i hugged a charmer, i stole the life out of his eyes
Play me a song with your flute but ease up on the volume
I wanna hear your heartbeat as it echoes in the air
Say a little prayer for me, maybe you can cleanse me of the sins of my father
The one with the lethal tongue that lied to the children of eden
So how about you play that song for me
JGM
As I walked through a meadow singing a song,
I heard a hissing voice say, "Hello. Come along."
It came from beneath a patch of thorny weeds,
whispered, "Are you one of those good seeds?"
I feared the snake would strike from coiled position,
but it seemed to be waiting for my admission.
There was a fiery light burning in its beady eyes,
as distant thunder rumbled in graying skies.
I dared not let the reptile know the fear I felt within
so, I answered the snake, with gold glistening skin.
"I don't think of myself as a righteous good seed.
but I do my best to perform many a helpful deed."
"What of you, snake? What is it that you like to do?
Tell me why many people are always afraid of you."
He flicked his tongue to catch the scent of me,
took some time before replying, then he did decree:
"Snakes like me have always been misunderstood."
Then he rose up higher and the cobra fanned his hood.
"We're called "Lords of Evil," but we're merely snakes.
Some of us are poisonous, but for goodness sakes,
many of us do good things on the land of Mother Earth.
Shouldn't that mean that we have a measure of worth?"
He uncoiled and slithered under an apple tree's shade.
I should've walked away, but couldn't, so I stayed.
My mind was overflowing with things I wanted to query.
He beckoned me to come nearer, but I remained wary.
"Do not fear me for I'll not sink my fangs in you, child.
I'm sick and tired of snakes being slandered and reviled.
We're thought of as devils and demons from Satan's lair,
beheaded and killed for no reason, and that's not fair."
I listened to its complaints and with him I had to agree.
Snakes always get a bad rap. Not all of them are beastly.
Suddenly, he stopped talking, and I thought he was asleep
until he opened one eye, asking if his secret I would keep.
"I won't tell anyone about the conversation we just had,
and promise to spread the word that not all snakes are bad."
I see beyond the
sea-snake crown
of thick-leaved jewels,
as a gossamer veil
conceals jealous goblins
shape-shifting above
a snow-dappled forest
of freckled weeds…
there third-eye rests
amidst tangerine tentacles
tearing my cinnamon
green clemency
glazed with holographic
lime gold clover….
now I’m torn
between wicked willows,
and a weeping angel,
vying for my
peridot throne,
embellished with
envious emeralds,
piercing passionately
through sparkling scales
of mermaid skin,
as peacock oceanic fairies
within skeleton silence
flutter mint-teal memoirs
of a narcissistic mantis~
tangling starry soliloquies..
there eagle-spotted
mantas swirl across
moon-kissed streams
unfolding marine magnificence
through mysteriously
malevolent musings..
I care not for the
rustic trinkets you wear
on fiery feathers
like cluttered calligraphy~
screaming in
high-pitched stillness,
longing to be seen and heard,
their faded fragrance
glows now within
tranquil twilight roots
like a forgotten facade,
while I sit secluded~
in my flaming coral garden,
as the modest maiden
of the rosemary sun,
unmoved and unbothered,
by the wailing wind
carrying notorious narratives
of eclipsed echoes
from sorrowful souls,
where hollow fangs
caress cruel
currents of chaos,
oblivious to the
sonatas of jasmine rain,
for I sing not for the spiteful
tides of tethered turquoise,
rippling with
salt-soaked souvenirs
mirroring the
untamable agony
of lost ancestors.
a k
n e o e v t e y d
s s t e, s i m e
e a i d "t a t, a - - - : ~ ~ the rest is hiss-tory
h r!"
t
snakes-owner
…………………..
poet-mrs.anjali denandee , mom
…………………………………………..
i am a snakes-owner…..
i catch snakes from here and there….
by my own-hands……..
i am very-expert……
i live in a village-corner…..
to my snakes , i take too-care………
i put , in bamboo-baskets……..
give to these , milk…
all drink it………
on many-ways……
i show the dance of the snakes……..
many people enjoy it………
the crowds give me foods , cloths and also money……..
i am not poor..
by these , i eat..
i dress……
and also i buy my useful-things …
by the money……
one day ……
a doctor says to me ,…………
‘’ if you give me the poison …….
then i shall give you money ‘’ ……..
i agree with him,then…..
at every month…..
he contacts with me……….
and i give him the poison…..
and take money……
he goes back in his city , then…..
we contact , again and again……
after some years…
i become very-rich-woman…….
one -night …..
i give milk ……..
to my snakes…
and at that time…
a snake bites on my right-hand….
i think that …
i shall be dye…..
without any treatment………
yes…by my collection …
of the poison……….
the doctor creates the medicine …
but i can not take it………
i know that….
after some-times………
will stop , my heart-beats…….
yes.it is the reality……
where is my safety ……
I have seen them stand outside my door,
pleading mother to help stage their show,
on our verandah with stony floor,
tattered clothes, hungry child, wife on tow!
dusty robes speak of miles he walked,
two woven baskets on wooden yoke,
usual wares with which he embarked,
a venomous trade to feed his folks!
with widened eyes I saw him sit down,
his sweat pouring down in summer heat,
mopping face and brow with long sleeved gown,
asks favour of water, food to eat!
rested and nourished his show is on,
a crowd of urchins get a free peep,
melody like from an old car horn,
he blows sharp and sweet but yet so deep.
speckled cobra nearly five feet long,
rocks in anger with an open hood,
heat of summer is no time for song,
disturbed from slumber, how very rude!
As child was overawed by his skills,
such deadly snakes controlled by his Been*,
there is tragedy behind each thrill,
truth of life, often hidden unseen!
snake charmer’s life is twin tragedy,
education denied from a child,
for snake it is to be in custody,
to lose their freedom to rule the wild!
let’s solve this tale with education,
help their children go to a good school,
use their skills to help conservation,
so the snakes roam free, the wild to rule!
*Been a musical flute made from a coconut shell used by snake charmers to distract the snake
Premier contest winner (3)
Written 4/01/2021
9 syllables each line except one that has 10 syllables
‘The Snake Charmers’ poetry contest
Kai Michael Neumann sponsored
The snake sidles up to Eve
from God she soon seeks reprieve
With us yet, it slithers into Halls of Power
injects venom ~ brave leaders cower