Best Snaky Poems
A body abandoned
needs to mourns its last breath in death
a heart cast aside
still aches to meet its last beat
and a free spirit yearns for a winged monarch moment
to fly in the spirit of freedom…
opportunity
flares a tongue
snaky and bittersweet.. a flicker
grows flames that twist passion’s kiss with kismet
a chance
to escape on a breath of air
an exhalation;
warm incense offered to vesper -
the wish of a scent to slip through the keyhole
above the hiss of heat
and gasps of air
rushing combustion to a roar
airy mystics spoke in the eerie smoke
w h i s p e r s
urge the purge of perishable pain
unclasping lonely-linger’s grasping fingers
soft-spun knit and purl unravels
as vintage yarn twined with sun and rain unties -
aging rays fail to stave Winter’s grays
and the ethereal thread of an earthly creation
releases its tendril
from the spinning wheel’s weave of circular seasons
from seed to harvest and warmth to chill
vestiges of sisterly hands cup a ceded sigh
chrysalis celebrates destined to re-emerge a butterfly
terminal tremble of a twilight trill is hushed
vulnerability swaddled
cradled by clouds of silver and gold
a mortal’s surrender consummates upon the pyre -
cinders cleansed of tears and cries and vices
but never the dreamy intrinsic colors
of the opal’s unfurling blaze
she ascends
a flash of embers relieved of ash
taking fire to the skies with a tigress torch igniting
molten pools spooning the spine of the western shadow
heralding an awakened afterglow to the afterlife -
lamplight gilds mare’s tails hooking heavens
pathways adrift from the burning thurible
of a trinity on the cusp of rebirth...
incense rises upon a heated atmosphere
riding the riddle of the four winds
beyond realms of soil and salt - reason and logic
yonder the profound truth of the-not-humanly-known
seeing past reflections within mere margins of a mind’s mirror
accepting the enlightening throb of the enigmatic pulse of creation
becoming one with the ultimate mystery
the wish of a scent to slip through the keyhole
fulfilled with exchange of gifts -
the offering of her sunset shroud
for the white mantle of sunrise
Tongues of solar flare writhe in combat kiss
—flame-throwers unleashed
iron words h a m m e r e d in fire
ferrous words melt-morph into heart-welts
once under skin
hear the fevered air burn with cheers;
c a c k l e s of c r a c k l e s and h -i -s -s -s
bellies of tears full of fire; fire feeds on gasoline tears
fire-eaters’ —bellies full of flames
turn inside-out; fire-breathers shape-shift
from love doves to squawk hawks
bonfire of marital bliss consumed by wildfire
desolation burns holes in lacy i n* t i* m a* c y
ashes
fall
from
s o l o
cigarettes
. . . nuclear winter in summer
t h r o a t s of songbirds c h a r r e d
. . . silence
follows blaring —w h o o s h— of serpent fire
purification in cremation of all OratiOn sound
liability and liberation
animate to dissipate in snaky smoke of HeLL-wraiths
apathy clouds form they rain on red heat
smother a smolder mother a cease fire
ember-ice; scalds freezes t–h–a–w–s
whets flesh — and wets fire extinguished flower bed
ashes laid down
—passion’s quiet confetti paves a path—
w. a. i. t. s
— s l e e p w a l k s
… d r e a m s
Night's silent shadows softly fall
from moonlight's muted, mellow glow,
that shroud the land with sunless shawls
on cold ground glazed with glinting snow.
Tree branches, seen with broader breadths
by shadows that bestow their form,
splayed stark atop the snowy depths;
by wind, they swirl like snaky swarms.
Small bushes sway between the trees
to shadow snow like ghastly ghosts
that dance deceptively to tease
and harrow wary human hosts.
Pure, peaceful pageantry at night;
such lovely landscapes, to be viewed.
But, sometimes shadows strain our sight-
with varied visions misconstrued.
March 27, 2018
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon
Mile 6 Poetry Contest
Necessarily to Samora
On the stream, a cork was thrown
She sank in
She tripped on
She was picked up
A beach, a wave and a sailing ship don’t matter.
You will arrive at the time of coming back.
-Faceless towards passion-
When the dawn was agonized, morning came
I’d be dreaming my dream
The delusion of paddling the sea of love without safety
That passing by valley slits the front of my house
Brings and takes water -don’t you mind giving me a cup!-
This instant…
Domesticated with pain
Your loyalty is vital and you are well-worn
Imagine you
Laying nearby in others snaky arms
The arms that shot my heart
---it shaded lights on more beats
Instead of the distance
Gone astray is not at ease. With the wind and with the wind
This instant…
Time struggle against time
As you smoulder my mind's eye into a fantasy
Days are nights and the same line of attack, sub- stories
Why reddish rose in my hand as you are all roses
I obey the truth; I’m only irritating other’s plant
I gain the fragrant of my tiredness –walking on by-
This instant...
Up above where air outdoes
The reverie is stubbornly standing
I still jump onto the floor preparing a glider for love
Uncut ropes and a silky seat for two birds
Poetess is my bird on shoulder, in veins and between bones
This instant…
Underneath the last sparkling star thinking and gazing
Into things that have been my own
That will never be my own.
Getting back to the memories
Swimming in an endless pool of images and words
Quenching the desire of missing, just somehow
This instant...
My senses flounce your absence
Your silent acquires me the language battles
---God! A German flight pierced the atmosphere
Shelled many wild birds there as I was only watching the scenes
This instant...
The valley’s slit leaves a border line
Face on the pane; I steal glimpses
Wiping away tears by sunny bar entity
Hanging on someone to bring me gathered drops
Steadfast-
“No more than one” I say to heaven-
I was working for Jack Daymond, a farmer,
who farmed livestock, potatoes and vines.
I s’pose he had over two hundred cattle.
The spuds and the grapes grew in lines.
Oh gawd! Jack had me slaving ‘til sunset,
keeping his farm spick and span.
Jack kept his eyes on the produce,
while I was his cleaning up man.
And that meant me days were all busy,
spraying and killing off weeds,
grubbing out hundreds of tussocks,
before the darn thing set its seeds.
Sometimes old Jack was a good bloke,
he’d jump in with a fine helping hand,
and we’d spend our day in the paddock,
destroying the weeds on his land.
We were digging out plenty of thistles,
in the north paddock up near the creek,
and we worked like a couple of Trojans
clearing what should have taken a week.
Then a voice loudly filled up the air.
And it was quite menacing too.
A bloke in a suit was striding to us,
declaring his strong point of view.
“Mr. Daymond, I am here to warn you,
that I represent government’s need.
It appears that with government water,
that your quota you far did exceed.”
“I’m here to check your irrigation,
and make sure you’re not being unfair.”
Jack Daymond replied “Do what you must,
but don’t go in that paddock up there.”
The bloke in the suit became snaky,
standing over poor Jack with a leer,
“Don’t tell me where I can or can’t go,
See this card that I am holding here.”
“This card is a reminder to you,
I have authority over your land.
I am allowed to go wherever I wish,
have I made myself clear? Do you understand?'
Jack looked down at the card in his hand,
and knew there’s no sense to rebound,
so Jack nodded politely and joined me,
grubbing thistles from out of the ground.
It appeared that Jack had been beaten,
and in silence he’s taking it hard,
between thistles he gazed to the paddock,
at the bloke who had shown him the card.
But then a grin formed on his face,
we heard yelling like never before,
for the bloke in the suit he was sprinting,
and it’s something we cannot ignore.
Jack beat me on reaching the fence.
With the bloke in the suit in full flight,
and hot in pursuit was Jack’s Jersey bull,
with a look that was all sheer delight.
As the bloke in the suit got beside us,
with the bull behind him by a yard,
Old Jack cupped his hands and yelled out -
“Your card! Your card! Show him your card!”
Midnight, Cerberus roams across the sky,
Chasing stars and barking upon the fly.
Hound of thunder, cloud riding the air,
With three heads and snaky tail awry.
Lightening cracks like a whipping lash,
Indoors, onlookers make a wild dash;
To escape the unnatural fiery glare,
Of the monster mongrel raining ash.
My pet dog cringes in abject fear,
Crawling into a box he is near,
Huddling low in the safe wooden square,
While the hell-hound doth sullenly sneer.
Excitedly snapping boots into skis,
Thinking it’s nice, this cold winter breeze
That rustles the trees
And makes words freeze
Just when they are spoken.
Movement starts out shaky
The precipitation flaky
Swirling skiing trails look snaky
And soon legs will be achy,
But winter has awoken.
Soon, rushing down hills,
Disturbed snow spills,
Falling in frills,
And then it stills,
Forgetting quiescence was broken.
A crash breaks the calm
Sudden like a bomb
Looking down, blood soaks palm
It hurts! -- where’s mom?
But the pain is merely a token
For a love of winter, unbroken.
Adam, my Adam prithee
answer my plea
Will you join me in savoring
the
fruits of yon tree
Eve always cool as home made
gabagool
Why mess with the bosses'
one sacred rule
Adam don't accuse me of
protesting too much
But a kingdom for an apple
sounds easy enough
Eve there's a lot for us both to
consider
Like taking advice from one
prone to slither.
Adam doth these leaves make
my lithe form look fat
Eve they cover all the best
pieces, wad up wit dat?
Adam thy visage is a Tempest
of gloom
Eve I fear we screwed up
bada-bing bada-boom.
Adam everything seems
different betwixt thou and me
Since we ate of the fruit of
that forbidden tree.
Twas the promise of equal
footing Adam forsooth
Eve that snaky rat bastard
wasn't telling the truth
(sung – in a round pussy willow warble - to the tune of --
Oh Where Oh Where has my little dog gone)
With a flam boy hunt deft jais nais sais quois
firm lickey split tongue
and two bell yule yar pissant
little nappy ruck berry filled up paul ling sacks
viz peppy la pew doth not peter out,
and weathers clawed rained swipes
from hello kitty when faux pas gets swung
assisting climbing Jacob's ladder
(without pussy footing,
orb bing a putz like the president)
advancing quick to attain orgasmic rung
while heading into a slippery sloping sluice
(with prickly endeavor emitting cleat trill
smooth sailing along a ****
re coarse upon phallic shaped pung
crossing la brea tar pits (peppered
with lai bee ha tricky bridge over the River Kwai)
comprising ideal place de la resistance
to woo tang clan foreign nee Kate,
where two puckered rill lee fleshy ruffling rills
tinged pinkish lips overhung
a challenging escarpment,
where many a brave Tom, Harry or Dick get hung
up, particularly while searching for fabled “G” spot,
cuz portcullis hamstrung
even the most fiercely determined
Engleburt Hump per dink
necessitating the moist risky ski maneuver
as most studs know tubby gelandesprung
though booby prize wool worth any slimy setbacks,
where sticky gook gets flung
from angry cat,
who does not in the least find amusing,
and if further pricked with rage
not averse to hurl dung
gar (with) ease at snaky,
retractable hardened beastie boy twill clung
for dear life and limb (er, or twig and berries),
while applying crampons (bivouaced
within his maxipad), viz bung
gull low, essentially a ball peen size cove
hammered out by Dashiell Hammitt, where coiled,
kinked follicles strewn tightly inlet among
pheromone laced verboten fruit.
The foggy snow hats the mount peaks,
The chilly wind frosts all snaky creeks.
The shelter covered by creamy layer;
Face of a pane of the wistful thinker.
The clear icicles cling from the gutter,
Like the tearing of a sadden perceiver;
The thousand drops flood within:
Reviving my mother's teaching.
Once a spoiled teen in mother's arms;
Had poetical talent with full charms.
Then flew to adore distant flowers,
Received pitiful consequences later.
The obstacles shadowed the daily life,
Just a few of them have been rectified.
The foggy days repeat over and over?
Only self-confident man can endeavor.
Even powerful mind soaked in tears,
Let the body move on without fear,
Hopefully the snow fog will cease;
The strong heart could stay at peace!
Tomorrow the weather could be fine,
Keep moving on the tough, nasty line,
Even the fuzzy way lessens the vision,
Try hard to find the right destination.
Go on to reach out the ideal flowers
That bloom in the beautiful weather;
Leave the foggy days, obstacles of life,
To pass over the foggy day and smile!
My wife Lomet fell in love with a comet
Hugged the Tuttle and fastened him to grommet
Tuttle was tattler
Snaky and rattler
Lashed his tail in parabolic trail--kismet
my wife lomet/limerick/copyright (c) rajat kanti chakrabarty 21 november 2014
like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,
like a trophy ?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.
The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.
A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.
The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death ?
SATISH VERMA
As I walk down the sloopy,snaky road ,the strings of my
Sights pull a dusty harbour of a canary.He strings his harp
To the little boy in the plains of the sunniest reed
Boy: The days are gray on us,we are lost in the pit of
Barren laughter,tears from the skies never run dry.
What ails a rainbow world thus?
Canary: As you walk down the sloppy,snaky road,on the
Signpost of a cruel reed hangs a bridge that links
Hearts so close.The chords of human fates are
Intertwined.We go ahead,always there is a new
World up the hills.
Tears from the skies never run dry, the bridge of love
Cloese in on our hearts.By the side of your crooked
Heart lies an oasis,tender and beautiful.
There lie minds that soar above desert of hate.
The truest beauty is that which the mind breeds.
As you walk down the slopy, snaky route pause and look
For, there is a bridge that whispers beauty into our hearts-
A bridge so close to our fates.And through this we weave
Together a garment of hope and love.
There was a fancy snake from Paris, France
Who had a thing for lacy underpants
He tried to put some on
But they only slid down
They were designed for cute, pink elephants
There once was a rattler from Nairobi
Who found himself in Arizona's Gobi
When he saw a rocket ship
He thought he'd take a long trip
Aboard spacecraft "Obi wan-Kenobi"
a mouse frolics in the sunny meadow,
'neath the grass slithers
a snaky shadow.
a short, smothered squeak, a muffled struggling,
flowers flirt with the breeze with
nary an inkling.
a feathery blur plummets from the sky
with razor-sharp talons and
a cruel cry.
rips the serpent with its cold, crooked beak,
then flies off to feed its young
nestled at the peak!
.