Best Snakelike Poems
Antares' red glow bears firmly down
upon plush, chartreuse carpet
lying prone against the obsidian expanse,
blanketing sections of a remote
blue sphere, purling,
spinning helplessly
through distant time and space;
slave to routine and rotation,
never daring to break free;
to reach out.
Scorpius sprawls low
across the Autumn void;
a celestial corpse
twinkling, twitching;
inexplicably still breathing,
expelling the last
of her precious plexine light
in a final, desperate act
to awake inspiration, stir passion,
proffer wholeness and healing
to an infirmed, ungrateful planet,
for her end-of-reign recession.
Projecting dreams; visions
like swirling Akashic holograms
leaping forth from ancient pages
of ethereal records,
all but lost to time and apathy.
Twisting snakelike through the cosmos,
her broody gaze steeling
in every direction;
fierce energy bombarding;
burning across the universe.
Intense joules bursting forth;
reaching out to nurture
willing universal souls;
scorching those who reject her,
turning them to table fodder
at a divine banquet
for dark gods.
Sagittarius flickers jovially behind
as if breathless with laughter;
taunting, frustrating,
staying just out of reach
of her vengeful tail.
The rule of Scorpio wanes
upon Orion's horizontal breach
extinguishing the sting-ed cluster;
quelling her tumultuous surge
until late-spring pains
rebirth her fires,
igniting them, emerging again
from the icy chasm
of black oblivion.
Categories:
snakelike, space, stars,
Form:
Free verse
She glides out of the room on tiptoe,
As graceful as a sinuous ballet,
Sliding past sad memories that flow,
Staring, scowling eyes upon her still prey.
As graceful as a sinuous ballet,
Stealthily steadfast, slipping slowly,
Staring, scowling eyes upon her still prey,
She’s ready to strike bloodthirstily.
Stealthily steadfast, slipping slowly,
Marked double-crossing husband might have guessed,
She’s ready to strike bloodthirstily,
As he unwittingly lies down to rest.
Marked double-crossing husband might have guessed,
Slithering snakelike, it’s his scornful wife,
As he unwittingly lies down to rest,
She swoops in silently with sharpened knife.
Like a surgeon’s slash it’s very precise,
Sliding past sad memories that flow,
With bloodied knife in hand, it’s once, twice, thrice,
She glides out of the room on tiptoe.
Categories:
snakelike, abuse, analogy, anger, betrayal,
Form:
Pantoum
Power Of The She Vixen That Oft Souls Destroys
Silk sheets graced her sweet, welcoming night bed
promised relief from pain, sorrow and dread.
With such treasure offered truth becomes blind
dark powered beauty that corrupts the mind.
Each victim was a lamb led to slaughter
once thought, no earthly power could halt her.
For her eyes hypnotized and her kiss stole
the power of light in the human soul.
Time did not decay her soft winning smile
deceptive illusion that would beguile.
This truth I now know, I now truly speak
she prayed on we fools and the very weak.
Her touch and lips sealed with a dark kiss
hiding thoughts of that one would dearly miss.
Her admirers would praise her sex appeal,
her next victim would jump aboard with zeal.
Alas! I was such, I make no excuse
pray I, these revelations are some use.
Lone survivor of her destroying ways
I sit alone awaiting final days.
If should you met beauty that so allures
know its curse, from which there are no cures.
Never allow its touch, deadly kiss
open your eyes and hear its snakelike hiss.
Writing now but nightmares tonight shall come
tho freed, I still hear its banging loud drum.
She, appearing in that beautiful guise
to deceive even worldly, and the wise.
Silk sheets graced her sweet, welcoming night bed
promised relief from pain, sorrow and dread.
With such treasure offered truth becomes blind
dark powered beauty that corrupts the mind.
R. J. Lindley,
April 9th, 1979
Note- Escaped but not without deep and painful scars.
Such dark creatures exist parading in human form..
New Note, 3-17-2018 -
How many survive? How many look back and see the perils of youth,
and its love of danger, mysterious and oft deadly beauty?
Categories:
snakelike, betrayal, conflict, dark, deep,
Form:
Rhyme
I That Troddeth Through Flames Of Hades To Burn
I that troddeth through flames of Hades to burn
Sheddeth my blacken, snakelike and scaly skin
As glowing embers scorch me, this I did learn
Man has no other course but to wallow in sin.
This dark world, its ungodly gifting of pleasure
Holds sweetest, that taste of our depraving lusts
As evil enfolds life and casts its false treasures
Its blackened winds destroy with their hidden gusts!
Pray tell, which saving grace awaits one's reaching hand
And will wield power, to a long, lost soul rescue
Doom and gloom are true shadows within this land
As rushing storms fly forth to envelope me and you!
As I pray, will you understand my great woe?
Should I run far away, will you too, dare to go?
Robert J. Lindley,
July 12th 1994, ( Why We Know God Exists )
Categories:
snakelike, art, dark, evil, humanity,
Form:
Sonnet
With a snakelike hiss, the train doors close
the engine rocks and rumbles on clicking
over welded metal couplings: iced, glazed, froze,
the steam heat in clouds arose, rail licking.
On velvet we sit, lace behind our heads,
stewards bring tea for the clock is ticking.
High tea at five, we're fed like thoroughbreds
for dinners late (at eight) in formal dress.
A honeymoon for two not quite purebreds.
1/24/15
Categories:
snakelike, travel, vacation,
Form:
Terza Rima
The gathering storm rattled snakelike over distant hills,
Heads of dust and debris thrown as charcoal relief
To the vast expanse of the sky;
In the drought of reason, heat radiated a stillness,
Diseased and brooding, motionless as fissured statues
Or corpses in their time of desiccation.
The old grudges quickly stirred, their animation jostling with fever,
Until they burst tall and armoured, bloody hands
Raised up to the heavens;
Ceaselessly goading, provoking war dogs, effected
Reprisals in a rain of missiles, for attrition ruled
The stalemate kingdoms with seething deities.
The storm is coming, a travel of increasing ferociousness,
Laying waste to desert blooms and flesh,
And sat upon the pale horse the name is always death.
Towers of toasted glass and white steel,
Market places, schools and homes…and people…
All fair game carrion before such implicit dominion…
Categories:
snakelike, death, history, life, loss,
Form:
Blank verse
The Praise Dancers…
In stilled silent
space
between garnished tables,
the word exploded:
gyrating motion
spilled out
here and there;
yet
bare clapping hands
and naked feet
made
no sound.
Staccato movements
shot upward
finger waving arms—
crescendo praises
descending
bending knees
pulled
bowed heads
to poised reverence.
Sleeping soul spirits
woke
to thrice toilsome
tried hearts
fluttering with audacious hope;
dancing to the rhythmic notes
of faith
snakelike Salome sought
to defile.
With heads held heavenly,
they danced
before the head of their lives:
the true and ever living God.
Categories:
snakelike, analogy, celebration, dance, faith,
Form:
Free verse
Every time
my brain pauses
I can feel
(taste)
your bloody kiss,
the softness
of your lips,
the sharpness
of your fangs,
the pressure
of your snakelike tongue,
the pull
of the wolf
that dwells within
wanting,
longing,
desiring
to shred skin
(again)
with the likes of you.
Feeling
the death like breath
of the night
on my bare skin
as we quench our hungers
(together)
under the full moon,
as the mist
settles
on our fine coats
dampening,
slickening
us,
enjoying
the loam
wafting through my nostrils,
the touch
of the moss
under my paws.
Flexing our claws
within ones flesh,
the beat of life
throbbing
through the thin,
tender skin
of the neck
the arching of my neck,
as you
snap my head back
by my hair.
Tingles
as your teeth
scrape across my epidermis,
your claws
tearing through my flesh,
back arching
as you dig in.
Your body spasms
as I rake
your belly
with my paws
and you gasping
as I
drag it down
your inner thigh,
scoring
a thin red cord
that starts to drip.
You becoming
breathless
as I pause
to let you contemplate
what I might do next………..
………….
all this as the dew
slickens our fine coats.
Categories:
snakelike, passion,
Form:
Romanticism
For She, This Victory Was Gained- Sonnet number 2
You that loved her for her long, yellow hair,
I for her grace, charm and brilliant mind.
You left her sick and without a damn care,
while I nursed her to health staying behind.
Nights that you had her wrapped in your lies,
You fooled her with your snakelike charm.
I sat alone trying to break your evil ties,
desperately fighting to defeat your harm.
That summer we battled for her sweet hand.
A contest between your evil and truth's might.
I defeated you utterly with a true moral stand,
And you the rascal fled away in the hot night.
Now we together found exactly what true love is.
Love is "we and ours", happily not,"her and his"!
Robert J. Lindley, 07-26-2015
Note: Very loosely based upon a past experience in the late 70's..
Categories:
snakelike, age, allusion, angel, appreciation,
Form:
Sonnet
Gazing,
Greek letters display of curious origin.
Impregnation skin softly writhing aware letters
Sea
Alpha, Omicron, Tau, Psi, Mu, Rho, pass through all the rest and each other figure 8
Jangling in strange confronting orbits
Gossamer skin flays, the letters
Pulsing, transforming, letter of many letters, blur into the naked moment
Peeling, ghostly skins of finest rice paper move in snapshots.
Antique movie projectors of the future in gleaming metal dimensions provide the beam of data.
Clear butterfly wing skins, of most delicate light composition drift away on sighing notes.
Northerly pinned eyes of cartoon snakes circle round their primitive crayon bodies, snakes scattered, handfuls of straw.
Ivy sneaks, moving snakelike, twisting embrace of delicate moving entwining, tiniest crimson leaves wave and cavort.
I brush them with my hand, a sigh, a shudder.
Rippling passes, a pleasant tremor of metaphysical nostalgia, exhaling-inhaling, large-small eyes go in tremulous quark orbits of no time.
Letters-Snakes-Ivy,
Changing, blue hues pass into yellow moons of eclipsing black-hole pupils.
It is another,another, another, another-another, other, forgetting-remembering, passing, fading, rebounding, incoming, trailing away…
Exultation of indistinct revelation.
Looking, hidden information lurks in creeping shadows that run when thought over.
Forearm falling trapeze into screaming meters, Terror/Enthronement beep rapidly, hyper strobes paralyzed awe droning to absurd levels.
Genie teleporting snapshots poof like insane santas blasting through never-ending chimney floors.
Cessation, Self, Other, Break, Form, Mystery, Spin
Only can appear if vanished first, no first can be found, cannot appear to vanish. Not vanishing, so never appearing.
I am back to myself, gazing at the arm. The arm, the letters, the snakes, the ivy do not contain the thing to know, they are.
I can only follow and behold.
Categories:
snakelike, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
Singer Sir Mick Jagger
Walks with a swagger
Wriggling snakelike hips
Pouts with big rubbery lips
Texan model Jerry Hall
Is very skinny and tall
Their Bali wedding wasn’t valid
Mick no longer lives on salad!
Clerihew Couples for Valentine's Day Prizes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
1/11/19
Categories:
snakelike, celebrity, humorous, music,
Form:
Clerihew
tittering totter is not a high heeled smoke alarm nor a ship
Valve number eighteen is open said the rasping snakelike male. Slithering. Pipe like gatherings of serpentalias sweeping. Above and below. A surface scarred tissue. Where no schooling enters for education is blinked and blanked and covered with an asymmetric blanket in huge cobra sweeping duties to silence even a spill of sauce from the didactic crockery, and stainless steel cookery. So that is to the veins and vernacular vesicles said the other snake like individual. Slithering slippery sharpened staves staffing steeled shapes. Oh dear. Mr ford Monegasque will not be impressed for that is one lobster less he will consume this year. Let us hide underbelly and underbids for underbrush is fantastic news for an under flowering underflow plant. Plants in pinnys ride on horses that whinny in horseshoed shapes structural. Gymkhana leaping gourmet lunches in ice cube hats. Great. Linger no lecherous luxury in a bean curdle whilst stirring eleven antiquated apple pips. Juice. Wow. And all that wallow. From a hollow. In a nice clean bathroom window. Z polytheism Z at seven driving digging draperies to twenty one mermaids in a sink. Z *** z.
Categories:
snakelike, allusion, aubade, baptism, bible,
Form:
I see you're still here,
drowning in the ginger beer.
Peeking, pilfiering, scraping the veneer.
Snakelike, with a sneer.
Don't misle that horny steer-
please watch your language, dear.
Uch, why? No.
You silly pyro.
Then you go.
We, as a whole
ceased to grow.
Now back,
heaping flack.
I must have
stepped on a crack.
Forgiveness is a given,
as long as you're livin',
regardless of schism.
You threaten to leave,
wear it on your sleeve.
I see you're still here.
Categories:
snakelike, friend,
Form:
Free verse
With a snakelike hiss, the tangerine train doors close
and the engine rock-rumbles forward
clicking over each joined metal coupling.
Long gone are the pristine days of virginity
and the impassioned rush of slick new parts.
The small sounds of newspaper pages turning,
and whispered phrases penetrate the antiquarian din.
As an industrial landscaped melds with the
stark spring sunshine through the cars’ graffiti scared glass.
The rigid plasticine interior fills at first stop
with giggling, rose cheeked girl-children.
Herded in single file to the rear of the car,
by Moslem matrons wrapped in head scarves.
The girls’ blue-plaid, pleated, school skirts,
dusted the cobalt seats.
Foreign images, our images, reflect
Dali-like from British eyes of blue, brown, and green,
an American couple
on the way to Wimbledon station.
Categories:
snakelike, childhood, travel,
Form:
Free verse
Stories pour from my third eye in an iridescent stream of emerald green light.
CONSCIOUSNESS HAS NO COLOR.
And one day my consciousness will transcend the mere shape of a letter./ The slippery sound
of a sentence slithering snakelike from the space in between your lips. Trading the velvet
vocal vibrations of my throat for silence's silken texture.
Categories:
snakelike, introspection, on writing and
Form:
Free verse