Long Rattler Poems
Long Rattler Poems. Below are the most popular long Rattler by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rattler poems by poem length and keyword.
sweet pungent
fermented hay
dark and warm
slithers of light spit
through the cracks of the
warped weathered wood
old pie tin lies in the dirt
in its corner
where the mean old bull snake
drank milk with the cats
and kept the rats and rattlers
at bay
there's a buzzing and a hissing
on the other side of this rickety door
inside this old abandoned barn
I decided to explore
I'm about to shove through
but before I do
I look down to see
an Arizona black coiled up
its cold eyes
drawing a bead
whoa there little fella
didn't see you
used to be
I'd blow your head off
tan your hide
and roll you up to toss
in a cigar box
with the others
now--I don't know why
you seem like
such a harmless guy
you didn't strike
well then won't I
and I like the light
reflected off your shiny scales
and the way you glide
so smoothly and methodically
over rough wood
nothing anyway
through that door
just old leather
bridals and reins
broken down boots
and rusty tools
outside
light blinds
squinting to see
corroded red tank
shot full of holes
every idiot with a gun
can't resist
putting in another one
and the dusty chaparral
stretches up to the cool pines
as far as this trail goes
I follow
just a
not quite
snake bit
Arizona boomer
kick'n around
couple of days after
that bloody November
moon
(I set my alarm to)
yeah
whatever it means
sometimes its better
just to keep moving
with the sweet
sun on your shoulder
no rush
whatever I'm looking for
it's gonna find me
even the snakes
and the bloody moon
Rocky, high lofty mountains do stand tall and
boisterous waves continuously applaud
The rooster crows to commence:
musicians of dolphins, humpbacks and orcas,
vibe with sonic vibrations and
voice their vocal orchestras
Ravens, seagulls and doves chirp the song
The sly rattler rattles his noisy instrument
Crickets click a cool jazzy beat
Mr. grand waterfall has a cascade of steady water tunes
Two love-struck pigeons are dancing in sequence
A gazelle leaps over an enormous rock
A nifty lion roars over a raw hearty meaty meal
There in a meadow, young puppies are barking
a screechy and a pretentious bark
Flowers beautify the landscape: to see
roses, lilies, orchids, impatiens, tulips,
marigolds and lovely violets
They a natural soft colorful prism arrayed
The hills and valleys are unfolding its beauty
Two strong stallion horses are elated
showing their mighty strength
leaping in the air with their hind legs and
hooves kicking
A myriad of fruity fruits are in abundance
and diverse foods favors for taste buds pleasures
like are grapes, oranges, and watermelons
The green trees are spreading out their green leaf branches
giving out; a cool natural shade to all earthly creatures
All people in the world with understanding are rejoicing
and attending. They shouting out praises
and benefiting that of "Earth Praises"
Feeling a bit scaly
and my usual fleet-footed
I followed a lizard
into an evaporating wash --
somehow, all living critters
eventually enter the wash -- the
lizard looking for insects, and the
coyote looking for lizards
and to drink from a puddle
of water -- more like
a thimble full, the sun reclaims
quickly when 120 -- dwellers learn
to conserve, survive on less
in the desert; did not see
one environmentalist though;
probably in a comfy college
dorm, or staff lounge, sipping ice-tea,
writing his or her next hit piece, main
focus on how he or she suffers along with
a greatly abused planet. Gulp, gulp!
Honestly, I prefer the company of lizards,
coyotes, and an occasional rattler -- always
having found the desert far more hospitable
than Arid intellect.
Hopped a rattler out of Akron.
Rode the high end all the way.
On the Erie-Lackawanna,
Made North Jersey by next day.
Between a bottle and a biscuit,
And that’s all I’m gonna say.
‘Twas a rude accommodation.
No Angelina on my arm.
Stumbled in Towaco Station,
A-number-1, no false alarm.
I raided Harrigan’s at midnight.
Came to find my lucky charm.
Jacked a barstool with a seatbelt.
Took that baby for a spin.
Tanked a beaker full of vino,
Ran some red light sure as sin.
I traced the towpath to a piss pot;
Couldn’t keep from falling in.
Old Black Joe and Camptown Races
Waged a juke box culture war.
Jumped a willing breakneck filly,
Spilled her potluck on the floor.
I played her pussy foot to cat’s paw,
Then I danced right out the door.
Fleeced a rummage sale in Boonton;
Empty pockets, long-term loan.
Found a brown old five cent nickel,
And a plastic pocket comb.
Ain’t no sweet back, blue-eyed beefer.
New Hobohemia’s my home.
Summer speaks to me by waking me up early
Playing tunes of beautiful song bird melodies
Blowing cool breezes in early mornings
Creating chimes of rustling tree leaves
She speaks to me through marvels of elaborate spider webs
Through various trees’ dazzling green shades
Through fascinating designs on butterfly wings
Through flutters of humming birds and dances of dragonflies
She speaks to me by offering plums, peaches and numerous berries
And various melons, figs and delicious cherries
Growing scrumptious tomatoes in the garden for my luxury
Exhibiting vivacious blooms on rose bushes and crape myrtle trees
She speaks to me shining bright through brilliance of sunlight
Warming the afternoons and dehydrating grasses on hillsides
Crafting radiant sunsets and captivating afterglows of twilight skies
Generating buzzing mosquitoes in stillness of evenings’ dim lights
She speaks to me through an astonishing sight of a skunk mama and her adorable babies
Showing a watchful face of a raccoon sitting in an oak tree
Displaying an occasional slithering of a rattler or a snake native
Birthing numerous insects and active lizard progenies
Through magnificence of marvelous starry nights
Through frog croaks and cricket lullabies
Through precious waters of the lake
Summer speaks to me and I listen with gratitude in my heart……
snakes on a wall
rattlers all three
no pictures or any
pretty things
just demon scalps
no
they're not evil
I ate the big one
he was old and rough
three days from pay day
half a tank
two shotgun shells
no mourning doves
and there he was
yuck
they're better young
taste like chicken
and not so tough
won't shoot 'em anymore
just shoe 'em off the porch
little bullsnake last night
on the patio under a box
picked him up before the dog
got his scent
tossed him gently
over the fence
I see 'em crossing the road
and stop to help them
wherever I roam
not to get crushed
maybe a snake is
what I was
or maybe a snake is
what I become
A rattle snake sunning itself
on a well walked hiking path.
I should have killed it
I had a 410 shot pistol
carried just for that purpose.
I just edged around it and walked on.
I mean it really was a beautiful creature.
Later that day
talking to a fellow walker
he mentioned a lady had got bit by a rattler
on that same path just an hour after
my meeting with it.
Sometimes you have to select
between two likely evils or two
predictably bad choices
and let Intention and outcomes
fall as they may,
especially if you are too nervy or cautious
to prod a snake away with a stick.
the rain water inundates my home,
and one day almost killed my little one,
had to carry him across to a dry ledge,
and this is the story, every rain.
Kind sir, I said to the big mountain,
since you are so huge and so mighty,
can you please stop the rain?
There was no sound,
amidst thunder and wind,
water kept pouring, running down the hill,
submerging trees and flooding the river.
I scampered back and forth,
from my food stores to my home,
children get so hungry in the rain.
night vigil in my little deep tunnel,
amidst the brambles and stones,
to keep the venomous rattler out.
bright day and the rain has died down,
and the house is dry.
I counted the little ones and all is right.
If not the rattler, it is the fox,
and the barn owl and then this rain!
I have decided to move home from here!
a cave where the big striped cat lives.
my cousin says, it is added security!
“ever heard of a mouse living with a cat?”
I sometimes laugh to myself.
The truth is sometimes, you are safer
hiding with a known enemy
than living with an inconsiderate friend.
The picnic was set for today:
A cause for two hips and hooray.
With Split and Blueberry,
Their time would be merry
That’s if nothing got in their way…
The deviled eggs had to come first,
‘Cause a picnic without them’s the worst.
They proceeded to beg
The hens for some eggs,
And boiled them when they were submersed.
But when Bat and Gat started to pack,
Their picnic plans went off the tracks.
It was almost Bat’s fault,
Since the pepper and salt
Hadn’t made it yet into the sack.
The only thing they had to do
Was to pick up their friends Split and Blue.
With a rabbit and goat,
And their deviled egg tote,
They could hike to the overlook view.
Well, the eggs made a pretty nice spread
When added to Split’s honey bread.
But, sitting down eating,
An unwelcome greeting
Then filled them with terror and dread.
’Twas the sound of a huge rattlesnake;
What a racket that rattle did make!
Though none could find him
Out front or behind them,
Poor Blue and Split started to shake.
Then Gat sprung away like the breeze,
And spied him from up in the trees.
She pointed to Bat
Where the rattler was at,
And told everyone else to freeze.
Yikes, the snake tried to strike at his knees;
Bat evaded his strike with great ease.
Quick did a side-stepper,
And doused him with pepper,
And the rattlesnake started to sneeze!
Well, that was the end of the battle;
They all could now safely skedaddle.
The pepper, in fact
Brought such an attack
That his sneezes set off his rattle!
They all walked home in the sun,
And all had turned out to be fun.
An eggcellent day!
Yes, hip, hip hooray!
Bat and Gat, hero cats, number one!
A strange woman blasted into the family reunion
Came in loud and crass; obnoxious. Showing off.
No one knew her.
I was selected to ask her to leave.
Mom! She said.
It was one of my foster children from way back when.
I did not recognize her.
She had been a porker but she had slimmed up
And gotten two feet taller.
She picked me up off my feet, hugging me with a huge hug.
My husband stood up, concerned when she carried me to the old person’s table.
“Veronica!” he said, acting delighted.
I was not fooled; he never liked this one.
“I can give you some diet tips,” she said, setting me down in the middle of the desserts.
I have lost sixty-seven pounds," she told him. "Looks like you
found most of them."
In fear, other relatives began to leave the reunion.
Our family is full people with tempers.
No one wanted to hear more and they forgot I had married a pussy cat.
I began devouring a dainty sliver of coconut cake.
“Sixty eight calories,” she declared firmly.
I had a piece of pecan pie in my mouth now.
“Sugar entices cancer to consume our colon,” she said.
I knew I looked as happy as my husband who flounced off.
I picked up a spoon and began digging into the pan of lemon delight.
I guess the more nervous I become, the more I eat.
Veronica was rattling off warnings, advice and diet tips the whole time.
No one had ever cleared out our family reunion this fast.
I kind of admired her new-found confidence.