Confronted eye to eye
Deep in the jungle
A Bite
Predator venom attack
Accelerating poison
Effect thereafter
Slowly shortness of breath
The thought how much time left
Body rhythms started to erupt
Suddenly black out
King Cobra took charge
Control and Large
Death was slowly sinking in
Medical Staff response arrived
Luckily in time
The venom was quickly extracted
Victim survived the ordeal
Could have been worse
The venom could have been with no reverse
Curse of the King Cobra
Caution alert
Beware
What if a cobra came out of my toilet and bit my butt?
What if the plunger did not kill it and it also bit both legs?
What if I stomped on it and it bit my legs off to the knees?
What if a mouse sneaked in, and the cobra went after it?
What if I had to crawl to the phone, but did not make it in time?
What if my children and grandchildren found me dead?
What if they thought the cobra was a new pet and they kept it?
What if my dogs got angry and went after the cobra?
What if a rhino came out of the sink instead of the cobra?
What if he had his horn stuck and I had to help him?
What if we injured the horn and he had to go to the vet?
What if he did not fit into the car?
At least I would still be alive.
I have a large print Webster’s dictionary on my desk.
I flip through it and write down words that interest me.
Then I decide what kind of poem I am in the mood to write.
If I want an alliterative poem I choose lots of words in the same section.
dictionary, dictated, diaphragm, diagnosis, diabolical
If I feel like an acrostic poem, I make sure I am spelling the word right.
Acrostic poems do not do well if the initial word is misspelled.
Sometimes I wake up, look at the sink in the bathroom and think
What if a miniature alien crawled out of that drain?
What if a cobra swished out and bit me while I was brushing my teeth?
My imagination loves playing this kind of game.
What if the refrigerator came to life?
What if an opossum crawled out of the toaster?
What would I do? What would I say?
Would the opossum be able to talk? Would it be pink?
My muse Trixie likes playing with these kinds of ideas.
She throws things at me during the day and during my dream state.
I often wake up with an idea for a poem.
Unfortunately, that idea usually peters out and dies before breakfast.
I have probably lost as many ideas as I have ever had.
Shh…..!
Don’t scare them away!
Let us watch this macabre dance
and enjoy the art in rivalry!
A battle between
two champions.
both in the arena,
armed with nothing
but
teeth and fangs,
stationed immobile
face to face,
eyes emitting sparks of ire.
A cobra
with spectacled hood wide
hissing and shrieking,
spitting fire and fume
and a mongoose
with bushy tail up.
Who would win
this murderous combat?
Yet to see!
Golly… gosh!
If you decide to get a cobra
Better make it one who is black said Mrs. Minty.
We have a pet cobra that is white
She is prolific, her babies number twenty
I was horrified, for snakes are not my favorite things
I cannot imagine choosing to be with them.
And yet here was Mrs. Minty, whose praises many sing.
Who thinks a white cobra is her friend.
When he sees
That cameleon stops
to change colour,
tell him to check it proper
may be his sight
is not right.
When she sees a cobra
Tell her to make hot porridge
In the calabash and
carry it on her head
She will walk in the jungle
Like an African Queen.
July 03/2023
One thing I know about Gangs:
They have their own cobra's fangs;
Those who've got maturity,
Still threats to security:
Their leaders Good - Bad feeders,
Very few poor mind readers...
Another thing about Gangs
Their angry fists on doors: Bangs!
Every one of them Raw Tout
From a once nice voice Rash shout
Gangs have their own officer
His looks always The Sinister
Yes A Capo: wished Sergeant
Eyes on Rum, not Detergent
Sandra said “Abracadabra”
To up conjure candelabra,
Calling self Unrepentant Fox!”
Her mind “Dark mystery and Black Box.
She knew the Business of Magic,
Statement quarreling with logic;
You remain noisy: keep talking,
You don’t stand still: keep walking;
Sounds much like a monkey’s chatter
Which to one shall solve the matter
Your task: to keep charming The Eye
With any Well-Prepared True Lie…
A woman parading cobra
And said to have lived with zebra,
Her watchers for candelabra
From - Could you believe it? - her bra!
"From Bra A Candelabra!"
Cobra woman had a unworldly glow
There was something purple about it
She shown in the dark like a psychedelic popsicle
We gave her and her pet a wide berth
choosing to sit anywhere but their corner of the jungle
Cobra woman had a reputation for transmogrifying her enemies
I did not want to be her friend, but ….
I did not want her to put me into the enemy category
Could I make friends with the cobra?
He brought his head up and stared at me.
I don’t think so.
-I just wanted a friend
-One without ulterior motives
-Know what I mean?
-They never ACTUALLY listen to what im saying.
-They just nod, and smile, they agree at all the right parts..
-But, the whole time they’re just counting up their brownie points to get into my pants.
-Like “eventually I’ll give in.”
-Ill have moment of weakness, or a moment they could take advantage by knowing me so well and having my trust.
-Like a cobra they wait to strike me down like some sort of weak mouse.
-Their forked tongue whispering lies through my ears and to my soul.
-Reminding me all of the things I've told them in confidence. Now being weaponized against me.
-Maybe its best,
-to be alone.
Slippery
Cold
Carries dark spots and patches
Wet looking
Rope-like
Crawling
Shooting up
Hissing
A raising up of a floppy triangular head
A flinging out of a string-like tongue
A poisonous bite
A careless death
All these contribute to the fright of a cobra
Even though it obeys and dances
With the Indian flute
Even though with poisonous teeth extracted
A first impression and knowledge
Is always important and unforgettable
First, a phone that insistently rang,
Soon, a voice that croakily sang,
Then, a door that did as insistently bang
And a steely chain that knew how to clang…
Next, a calmly approaching unsmiling gang,
Face to face with him, they should hang
And relaxed the bastard watch against the pangs
From their boa-constrictor-mimicking ropes with cobra’s fangs…
And it was to be a torture fully intended;
Its former arranged duration evilly extended,
Victim’s final lifeless body made to lie supine,
As just that to any onlooker should be fine!
a hooded snake looks me eye to eye,
death just two feet away,
he sways his head with a warning hiss,
“keep still or you have had your stay!”
he coils his body with a slither,
God had made him that way!
in a conflict of souls he will win,
I should stay still if I am to see another day!
he edges his way towards the door,
still watching me eye to eye,
he seeks an opening with a final hiss,
then quickly slithers away!!
In that brief encounter of man and snake,
he won the battle that day,
in combat would have killed me straight,
but he taught me a lesson in a way,
he chose not to hurt me though he could,
a moral that with me would stay,
He showed more compassion to a man,
than most men would have done that day!
Premium contest winner (3)
Written 16/March/2021
Contemplation poetry contest
Craig Cornish sponsored!
''Such-like a cobra, thy strike need to be achieved, prior to --it is perceived.''
A
kite
cobra
hisses
on high
sky.
To flight or to fight
-In such height -
The gusty wind, the hot daylight,
Snake charmer below, quite right,
Birds that fly mimicking with delight
Or to freely, with arms open, try,
While flirting rosy clouds, to fly
-In blue sky-
And gleefully cry
With no sigh
Are
What he can try.
He does fly
Terribly
High,
So
He chooses to fly
-In blue sky-
With delight,
To the tune
Of kite
charmer
who pulls
the
long,
tiny
end
of
his
tail
..
.
Sept. 9, 2020
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (6)any form any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
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