Long Asps Poems
Long Asps Poems. Below are the most popular long Asps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Asps poems by poem length and keyword.
Most pain comes from something we've lost
,, like a life or a love- or a favorite dog.
How better to deal with the harshness of ghosts,
We plow on; we must plow on.
Will you crawl to a cave and wither away?
Or sit in the sun - repair the wings of your faith,
Will you search for things to fill in the spaces?
But you can't bring what's dead back into life
Death by far owns the deepest of pits.
So, we tap salt and asphalt into the abyss
and plow on; we must plow on.
Each loss forms a string of asps in the mind.
Snapping wildly at sanity and hobbling stride-
Will you proudly wear pain like a soldier of medal and scar,
or cover it up in a 90-proof Mason Jar.
But we plow on; we must plow on.
We're draft horses working the rocky fields of life.
Whips forever cracking in the foyer of the mind.
Wooden backs bowing to the fierce furnace of time.
But we must plow on; we must forever plow on.
Zooming around the room in wheel chair-moves
our child greets us by his beeping toy’s cheer
allowing pets to bark and meow freely.
Gesturing to hush us midst vibrant shhh
our son mumbles his morning prayer list
murmuring our names, gasping in between.
Then he enjoys yummy breakfast crunches
gulping milk and slurping yoghurt gladly
thanking Mom for sizzling eggs served with bliss.
After gargling menthol-flavored mouthwash
he likes warm splashes in his awesome bath
concluded with spray of baby cologne.
His learning zest includes snapping fingers
clapping hands, stomping feet, and zipping bags
while perfecting oinking and quacking sounds.
He watches revving cars in racing spree
ecstatic with the frenzy howling crowd
screaming that blends along screeching vroom-vroommm.
In animal shows, roaring beasts startle him
but he’s glued to hissing asps, hatching eggs
and calmed by chattering, chirping birds’ choir.
For play time, he’s popping balloons with glee
jingling keys in counting one up to ten
as well as ringing old phones and gadgets.
Mindless of pattering rain upon roof
he conquers boredom with clanging cymbals
Strumming ukulele till he gets tired.
Needing rest, he expects my humming mirth
of sweet lullaby against clock’s ticking
as I thank God for heart that throbs with love.
I am a light-bearer;
opening doors
so that together
we may seek--
Of course, there
are no answers,
just questions...
leading to questions;
for we are a species
of seekers, divinely
clothed in the solver's
garments...
solutions not found
on the path, but in
the maker of paths;
not found in the
mind, but in a
maze of minds,
in the tender
of walls, the
pruner of our foot-
steps, keeping asps
from our heals
and scorpions from
our toes. The only
real, is the sense
of being, but in
the spirit-illusion:
the wise knowing
there is no life,
no consciousness
that excludes the
intangible of faith;
looking from the
outside in, I can
be certain only
that I think
I think—no more.
Oh, shed no tear for friendships last gasp.
When the fangs, finally show, a poisonous asp!
Run for your life, head for the highest hill.
The innocent acting asp, on your tail for a tasty kill.
Friends can be asps, don’t you know?
As deadly as frostbite on a frozen toe!
They despised gullible you, having such fun.
You thought them sincere, you are a dumb one!
Worse, you wrote sweet, loving tributes to them?
The asp, chortling with laughter like an old hen.
And now left with few friends, you trusting,old fool.
While the asps, eyes shine, laughing at gullible….. you!
9/20/2022
~1~
Wasps and bees and grasshopper knees waiting to sting and scratch,
Give them an inch and they respond with stings and holes to patch.
Wren and finch and grosbeak syrinx waiting to burst with song,
Give them a glance and they reply with lusty sings-a-along.
Frogs and toads and mud puppy legs waiting to pump water,
Give them a push and they react as diving sea otters.
Snakes and asps and burrowing bugs waiting to slither back,
Give them wide berth and they will leave without a bold attack.
Deer and ‘possums and red foxes waiting to eat our ware,
Give them a snack and they return for the evening's fare.
Stings or scratches, beauty or song, part of Nature’s lessons.
One must learn to live with all and how to make concessions.
Including their own righteousness,
politicians can convince us and
themselves of almost anything –
that the world is truly flat –
they walk us to the edge…
demand that
we stare down into the abyss…
full of asps, coiled to strike –
incurable viruses and lethal
colors of racial division, these
are the bread-and-butter of
evil – insatiable individuals
with lust for power and control
over the destinies of subordinate
others,
the lemonade and
ice tea of fiery journeys driven
by ruthless ambition –
and the Devil,
having his favorites will reward
them well, their name-plates
over gold plated furnaces
in hell….
IF LOOKS COULD KILL
My dearest darling delectable Medusa
I was wearing dark glasses on the day we first met
You wanted your hair done, but it was no use-a
as venomous snakes should be treated by a vet!
It was obvious that you’d once been so pretty
But you’d been cursed by that wicked Athena
Then been banished from town and the city
Your beauty gone; Athena couldn’t have been meaner!
I love to caress your angel like wings
As writhing asps kiss your hideous ears
You’re the one who pulls at my heartstrings
I’ll be your love throughout our twilight years
One look from you can turn men to stone
I wear dark glasses so it doesn’t affect me
My love for you has blossomed and grown
We’ll be together forever for eternity
Sponsored by Viv Wigley
Love letter II Contest
3/24/18
Penelope’s in a hopeless quandary, backed into a corner.
She enjoyed the flirt of youth. Had no one warned her?
She rejected freedom of reflection. ‘Who’s she? ...not a saint.’
Penelope painted on her face, mirror-perfection - faithfully quaint.
Platinum blonde tresses, like a fisherman’s net, she caught men.
Each quiver would fall helpless - guts and glory auf wiedersehen.*
Poison of poise and perfume - ahh, ylang ylang like chains.
With serpentine strength of a boa, in crushing the mighty, she reigns.
Caught by two knights, found unfaithful, she’s dragged to the quay.
“The truth,” one spit out. The other, “You witch!” ‘Another day
perhaps she’d do penance.’ She struck fast with doppelganger asps,
fastidiously holding them below their necks, she’d practiced the grasp.
Dear, sweet, tears - she’d developed an antivenom and a liar’s remorse.
Delicate angel, tender child - she fights fire with fire not with brute force.
She drops to her knees as the knights dive and she releases the snakes.
“Oh why! Oh why would these men leap to their deaths over me?”
The guards believe the improbable, gushing to her aid. Penelope’s free.
2/12/2021
Mind Your P's and Q's Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
Word list:
Penance Poise Perfume Platinum
Quay Quiver Quandary Quaint
*auf wiedersehn - goodbye
There could be rats and snakes hiding in here.
Yes, I am talking about asps and cobras, big ones.
Hiding under the bed, no, not in my head, under my bed.
Okay, what about way back there, in the darkest corner?
Did you check out THAT corner? My voice is rising. I hear it crack.
Better take my flashlight and look hard this time. No, not in my head.
Under my bed.
Well, no the rat would not be. He is hiding in the closet.
A big gray monster with that hideously ugly pink rat tail.
He is probably under that pile of clothes. Not that pile, the other pile.
It might take you awhile to find him. He’s really sneaky.
Probably eating my new jacket.
Can you read me another story while you are here and can I have
two more cookies? What about a drink of water? I am thirsty.
And I have to go to the bathroom again. No, don’t leave, yet.
If you do, I am a goner. Please leave the flashlight, PLEASE!
ASP OF GRIEF
She buries her head upon this asp of grief —
soft with reptilian fangs, hard with poison.
Her covetous husband lies upon the Nile’s reef.
She holds her abdomen in her arms - his son.
with lunar belly...
the shape of her husband’s seed
...a fateful eclipse
The pit with its bone-chilling cold, hisses with hatchlings,
dreaming of spoiled seeds and seas with a vortex,
coiling around ships. A queen’s lips burn red, yearning for her king.
An abandoned wreck will not lay eyes upon his baby’s sex.
insanity’s kiss...
eyes burn with crimson lipstick
...unrepentant flames
She plays with sticks and desire, enticing asps of despair —
gorges with vampiric teeth. She embraces their mock
and likewise teases, beckons and pleads for death so fair.
Like a breeze about her ankles snakes snip her royal purple frock.
entanglement frays...
dyed purple threads unravel
...rigor mortis strikes
His candle ensign in the dark, a resurrected hero of vanity.
The light flickers with feet in the sand, footprints at lover’s leap.
His profile in death’s shadow, his purple passion of insanity —
laughter litters this carnivorous cave where ashes of dust heap.
alluring ashes...
Salome’s serpentine dance
...Cleopatra’s veils
The sound of a knife being sharpened, his sword with venom drawn,
leaps upon his self-righteous chest, a single blade’s deep penetration.
No handsomer lover, thighs of steel, tanned and craven brawn.
He lost his rapturous beauty bright and fleeting, weeds of veneration.
bilious-amber
mixes with his crimson blade
— a suicide pact
4/28/2018