Best Snaking Poems
In the silent breathing of night,
treading through
the darkness and the hush
(A heavy band of slave)
like black ants snaking
through the forlorn distance.
Grieving with tears
Of yesterdays burning anguish.
They hum a languid song
On the fragrant breath of wind.
A haunt that invades my trembling eyes
With a thousand boundless tears
That quivers through the night.
The dreaded echoes came down the black pathway
Like a thousand men
Galloping through the sultry breeze
(Were the heartless whips that toiled)
With dumb hands,
Feeding paled pink flesh
With endless stings of cruel misery.
The stars curled around their naked feet
As they trampled the grass
Wet with lurid dew and the masked
Beds of fragrant hues
Prancing in the hallowed night.
I could feel the storming of their sorrows,
The rock of their heart
Drooping with defeat.
Despair a master to their fading hope
That sailed across their faces.
Oh those foul notes budding with despair
Branched within their eyes.
The lulling whispers of their shackles
United with their treading feet like hooves
Cloaked with heavy weariness
(It surrounded the dead of night)
I hung up my fears
For I was bright with their pain
Oh I died that day
Oh I died that day
While drifting to the helpless East
To that damp cold earth filled
With drowsy mournful Asters
Then the smell of dead men came alive
Black dogs clustered to the earth
Their children beside them with gripping hands!
I saw Nazis march yesterday
upon the streets of Charlottesville.
And, with swastikas on display,
crazed clansmen chanted blood will spill.
I saw Satan grinning with pride
at racial slurs shouted in hate.
And, bigots standing by his side
help the violence escalate.
I saw torches light up the night,
snaking through the black neighborhoods.
And skinheads looking for a fight;
all that was missing were white hoods.
I saw white supremacists, proud
of drawing blood and spreading fear.
And a car plow into the crowd,
its intentions made all too clear.
I saw President Trump place blame
on both sides for this killing spree.
And, a shocked nation reel in shame
at how prejudiced he could be.
I saw the projected end of
tolerance and democracy.
And, mantras of hate replace love
with smugness and hypocrisy.
Quatrain
8/13/2017
Chains of Colonialism
With guns they came
With whips and chains
Chains to capture the Dark Continent
Chains snaking across Africa
Africa blessed by nature
Africa a precious jewel
Jewel coveted by imperialists
Jewel stained with blood
Blood of the disenfranchised
Blood of innocents
Innocents slaughtered
Innocents subjugated
Subjugated like cattle
Subjugated nonentities
Nonentities to colonial masters
Nonentities bowing to alien flags
Flags of oppression
Flags of exploitation and domination
Domination of inferiors
Domination of natural resources
Resources robbed
Resources nurtured with sweat and tears
Tears of those with no voices
Tears of those whipped and silenced
Silenced by superiority
Silenced by weapons and fear
Fear of foreign invaders
Fear of certain death
Death of ancient civilization
Death of treasured culture
Culture stripped and raped
Culture battered and fragmented
Fragmented destiny
Fragmented people
People crushed to the ground
People with no more sweet songs
Songs of freedom and happier times
Songs of nationalism
Nationalism and solidarity
Nationalism thwarted
Thwarted to divide and conquer
Thwarted to castrate minds and bodies
Bodies chained and beaten
Bodies killed for defiance
Defiance against injustice
Defiance against colonialism
Colonialism in the name of God
Colonialism in the name of kings
Kings
God
05-01-2016
Contest: Dig Deep - Race Relations - Conflicts - Colonialism
Sponsor: Marugo Mo
Placement: 2nd
Creeping creepy creepers, the crawling trellis
jutting out of everywhere
snaking through country and metropolis
twisting turning in floral bliss
but more like snakes that hiss
But in quietude feign death for self-defense!
Weeping willows with an unreal surreal sorrow
weeping tears of dew onto the silted furrow.
Perhaps weeping for bretheren felled
in deforestations and land clearings in
my imaginations of the call to preservation.
Against ethnic cleansing of greenery for selfish building
As per man's construction for mere recreation
Velvety-green tear- stained faces or rather foliage
When dew is stuck on them as nature's trinkets of pearls.
And over there touch-me-nots swaying coyly
like prim and proper maidens
in the fantastic floral gardens.
And what in the world is this case?
Imitation flowery in place of imitation jewellery?
Yeah, thats poinsettia in a vase
Leaves in the disguise of flowers
Its actual flowers relegated to backstage.
And ethereal fairy-slippers await their never coming wearers
and Indian pipes to be admired by Red Indian sightseers.
Oh and here's another spectacle- but sniper tactics this time
Yikes! Let the naive insect world beware!
Whilst the bloodthirsty killers lie in ambush
Those camouflaged jungle guerrillas
or should we say the venus fly-traps!
Or a more harmless one yet mimicking the scary
A snap-dragon flora, its mouth opening and snapping shut.
Then watch that mega-sized jumbo giant flora
The world's largest flower
No stems, no leaves, plant-eater plant, rafflesia.
Is it too much for the faint-hearted ha ha.
And wow now watch that incredible costume, oh my!
A flower masked as some pesky fly!
None other than the remarkable fly orchid.
And yet another, the silent music of the fiddlenecks
Fiddles as if for the light-weight fairies.
And lastly not forgetting ofcourse
the sky-blue unforgettable forget-me-nots
A memorable bouquet but themselves devoid of memory.
Ah nature lover poets if you wish to view
more of flora in a fancy dress masquerade
Go ahead and flip through the pages of
a botanical, floral
horticultural
pictorial journal.
And see for yourself the fantastic flora's charade
or else imagine them dressed as a floral renegade!
"HUNGRY GAMES"
"I can’t find the words I want to say! “
Under the moonbeam and sparkling scattered stardust,
I can feel the dew, which surpasses through the night.
As I speak to you in tongue, this stale flavor becomes overdone.
A taste of what is behind them luscious ludicrous lips.
I finally ask!
“Do you not feel what I feel?
Can you not feel my heart hesitating and holding hectically?
Addressed with attach anticipation on your side!
It is my hesitation, to answer with, “Please?”
The dwelling night disappears, underneath my deepen darken days,
In which makes every day, another night to come.
The wondering and whining worsens a little more.
I ache for seconds more, than my mind begins to mend.
The mornings keep approaching fast, the silences breaks!
Shattered scattered splattered words, finally released.
You start to nurture up around your notable noble nearsighted eyes.
For I have starved, just about all I can take.
Master of this crying slave…
“Your perception burns, the prescription, of persuasive deception.”
Your inacceptable improper intention cannot heal me now!
Leaving an awkward awareness feel, which lingers to the lustiness’, lost inside of me.
With a wallow with a swallow, soaping and spiting the sight of you.
Meanwhile your thoughts focus on the painful pulsating pleasure.
You will unleash on me…
For leaving all the crummy crumbling crumbs under our silver satin sheets.
I will be smacking and snaking surrendering and yielding, yearning at your will.
Please Master Can I have another, Cracker in bed~~ ?
by;PD
"That Place"
In that place where you were abandoned,
that place, they never thought, you’d come back from,
in that place where it is believed nothing grows
in the long night’s tortured darkness, deep down, well,
a spark lit something quite quiet, far removed and forgotten,
and now it grows rapidly, coiling inside,
snaking sharp-edged like mother’s tongue root
it transmits something alive, something like love,
its veins drawing back in again a loquacious life,
the moisture from tears, a necessary nourishment
from the lake of disbelief, betrayal, trauma and grief,
a bless'ed blooming in disguise,
the succulent luscious life those all important tears gift;
what spreads from the darkness and its erratic reach,
calling into it all embers of ethereal light? Now ultra-lit,
some revolutionary reincarnation arrives back from the dead,
it soaks the unseen light up greedily, for it is extraordinarily hungry,
to taste if but just a drop of sunshine in the glory of forever and ever,
this is what it dreams when it sleeps;
after the amen, hibernation,
it grows and it spreads robust, rigorous (not necessarily), yet,
like a beautiful irregular disease, there is no turning back
once the light kisses it and it has a taste for life,
it goes looking for some kinder heaven;
yes, this is accurate, I do believe -
from nothing something blooms
from nothing, the arrival, awake,
life lessons learned,
what is poor, and what is rich,
what is true and untrue
Candide Diderot. '24
Blue sky, glorious golden sunshine
Elements every farmer needs.
With crops rippling in the breeze
Combine harvesters whirl into action
See them steadfastly snaking along the fields
I can hear their dull drone from morning to night
Farmhands work tirelessly to gather the harvest
Making hay whilst the sun shines
Every second of the day is so precious
Until the final rays of the red sunset fade
Only then the farmer leaves and can rest
Harvest moon rapidly rises
Silhouetted in the majestic oak tree
A barn owl roosts silently in the quiet of night
Nature Poem – Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
08~02~15
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
It's used as an afterthought, fattening festive
arrangements for Mother's Day, Easter,
someone's birthday. An underrated vine,
enhancing center-stage flowers whose star-power
doesn't wear well. It's the "coming attraction"
that's there after the clapping dies down,
replanted by doorstep or gravestone. "Grow,"
I say, "Change my life with your traveling beauty,
your common denominator, your scrawling
signature seldom sought for autographs.
Snaking around graves at our family plot,
it's an ongoing gift, out-giving the giver
with its "overwhelming darkness", reminding us
where there is life, there is also death. Surviving,
thriving in hanging pots the less hardy exit,
it surprises and delights, reaching down from limbs
of trees for soil, unchallenged there in pine straw
until tender tendrils insinuate their way
to daylight through tapestries of needles
When the ivy becomes dense, I will know
you are there: ivy of my heart, ivy of essence,
the graceful way it swings and sways, how
it takes to new habitat in the way you, Julie,
cut a swath through New York City after lifetimes
in the easy South. We are old souls, older
than the hedera, cousin to ginseng, reminder
of the movement of the heavens, the ability
to bring things together. You were shelter,
the poets' headpiece, bringing peace
to my household. Resurrection and rebirth,
Julie, in this Easter of ivy.
I listened for the rain,
it emerged slowly now and again
from a crepuscular caliginus sky,
the tenebrous mist that trickled down lightly in the by and by
as if they were drops of salted tears
shed by an unseen entity's fears;
it was the dream that seemed far away
to hover throughout the day
with scattered light cool breezes
beating and flushing the tree leaves into the eaves,
spitting, spewing, snaking, swirling for all to see
stretching just above the distant canopies;
for once the weather predictions were spot on,
it remained overhead for three days within the briar
each day more intense than the prior,
no reprieves as it fell west to east
and cycled back again from the ocean to land to feast
on shorelines, forests and homes as if a wild, relentless beast;
the drops were big and cold
chilled by some northeast winter's scold
quiet then loud drumming on every roof,
streams and puddles formed aloof
into places where footsteps once abound,
the earthy musk odors rising from the ground,
now the lush grass rolled over
patted down the pelted clover
bowing in submission to the stormy drover;
I heard its' tumultuous cry
rocking, pitching while on the fly
without a whisper or a word before it died,
I heard it,
the rain sighed.
Hymn to Pan
Before Morocco was Roman, you see,
the music of Pan was African jazz.
At the Wednesday night prayer meeting
the percussion discussion of Mingus goes on,
getting' all jumpy and sweaty inside.
This is the time of the passionate stranger,
of bullfights and trumpets, of magic and lust.
You should see that goat high steppin'
playin' his pipes for centaurs and satyrs
while rivers of wine and buckets of beer
splash the maenads snaking with joy.
Seven black dancers leap on a cliff,
five different rhythms make them alive:
It's music that spears them, one at a time!
One says “It's crazy,” one says “It's love,”
three new rhythms awaken the dead!
Fertility spirits moan and shout
as flutes and oboes evoke ancestors.
A soprano echoes a baritone's wail.
The sky man wears a cloak of feathers,
the earth woman wears a skirt of grass.
A neighboring tribe joins the fray
entering caves with torches aloft,
wearing masks of stallions and mares.
The god who grants all desires arrives
riding a winged golden lion
as twenty eight drummers climax at once.
I can believe that joy is infectious,
I can believe that music is Life.
I'm going to jump and roar my approval
she's going to ride a broad chested centaur
the people will tussle a long hungry python
when Pan calls us in the middle of the night.
POTD~
In the misery of a paler grey nightfall
she blinks like citrine glazed along walls,
Ivy of Boston flaunts her shimmer without guilt
as palette of amber claims her lustrous glides
slithering with her bohemian lift,
rosette flesh blushing in chilled breeze.
Social climber this paramour, whirling
among plants wanton wild ,
trickles of mist freckle palms of curled leaves-
stem for stem-- translating the language of time,
of how branches relish herbage flow
as my wet hands paddle my dusky breaths
through mid-evening's freeze.
How her alchemy draws gasping sighs
more red than red could ever tease,
and that gypsy's heat...leaving mortals
in awe-...that her fluid pose seems to jut out
from a glass frame to rush forth with all
her womanly senses gushing, snaking,
writhing in the middle of ghastly, boney winter
meant to return on the edge of wild abandon,
enticing men with her faceted charm
never ever the same each time.
I Form - Imagism 9-18-24 6-20 lines
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Golden Kiss
Summer bows out and leaves a golden kiss
Maize dozes in mellow aster afternoons
Orange glows on future jack-o-lanterns
Multicolor bumpy gourds ride snaking vines
Yellow corn silks dance like razzle dazzles
Apples drink in the fading crimson sun
Sunflowers sigh -autumn storms breach the sky
Geese with twilight on their wings see new stars
Ruby gems of cranberries swim in bogs
Purple grapes soak in the warmth for harvest
Twirling leaves leave frosty lace skeletons
Fuzzy bees bid adieu to yellow days
Tawny acorns shiver in the cold nights
Fall wears an amber blush of jubilee.
As spring leaps forward
And winters shroud
Is cast back
The putrid stench of earthy damp soil
And the litter of fallen leaves death and decay
Along with freezing damp foggy mist that bites
Fades and clears as the sun appears
Pushes through the drab grey
The blue pushes away
The twisted contorted stretching tendrils
Small arms of a rugged wrinkled tree
No longer bend and bow to the will of the wind
The cocky blackbird
With its Black feathers and yellow beak
Scurries and scrounges
Among the fallen crumpled copperish leaves
Hoping to find a morsel treat
Athletic Squirrels jump from tree to tree
The silver ribboned rippling winding stream
Glistens and sparkles like diamonds brightly gleam
Miniature mountains moist green moss covered
Jagged boulders and stones the snaking stream
Weaves and twists around
With a rushing hush
The air remains somewhat fresh and crisp
Loses the fight and its bite
As the yellow solar orb above warms up
To kiss the ground with loving lips
Caressing wandering fingers
Stroke and tease the ground
The fertile earth gives birth
And rebirth anew opens up
Filling creations bowl
And thirsty cup
The treasure chest overflows once more
With abundant gems and countless gifts
On nature's shopping list
The nights get shorter
The days longer
As the sun awakes
And becomes stronger each day.
Swimming in the water of my own making.
Waiting to be found out, body quaking.
Thinking I have a few extra minutes snaking.
My co-worker in conspiracy is also shaking.
The stress has our bodies up and aching.
Give me an instant of easy leaf raking.
Or a day of cinnamon bread baking.
Or a day of creative print making.
Constantly fearful is a huge undertaking.
Waiting to be found out, body quaking.
Swimming in the water of my own making.