Long Slithered Poems
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The Cobra lay where Cobras lie,
a King within his lands.
With hooded head and armoured scales
and venom in his fangs.
The Cobra soaked up morning sun,
the nighttime turned to day.
As warmth refreshed his deathly sleep,
he slithered on his way.
A mouse or lizard, bird or frog,
a tasty little treat.
Is what he sought with flashing tongue
that sensed his daily meat.
But not today was fate his friend,
his kingdom under threat.
He rose to meet an enemy
that he had never ate.
For in his way a hillock stood
with soldiers everywhere,
none loyal to our Cobra King
his rules they did not share.
In unison the ants advanced
there’s nothing that they feared.
Streaming out from muddied walls
their thin red lines appeared.
His orders hissed from hooded fangs
and poisoned threats declared.
Had no effect on their advance
as up his scales they dared.
From inside out they ate the King,
a royal feast enjoyed.
The reign of terror of his kind,
so easily destroyed.
For poison running in your veins
can not defeat them all.
But little things beneath great power,
can make a kingdom fall.
Ivor G Davies
More than a pot of gold awaits beyond the rainbow’s end;
Leprechaun’s are of the faerie clan and they play tricks.
The clever little bugger’s are sure, your mind to send;
on fascinating journeys that’ll leave you in a fix!
You may end up with two noses for, poking just one in
their secret world of mystic arts, that you are not to see.
The fact is, they’re the real bogeymen,
do not befriend, those Leprechaun’s, so wee!
I had a friend, into their den, went he.
I hear him screaming to this day, his tiny little shout,
barely taps my ears yet, Leprechaun laughs with glee;
I know my friend’s trapped within and will never get out.
Saint Patrick may have scared away snakes;
his courage never frightened the Fey.
While the snakes may quiver and quake;
the Fey thumbed their noses while snakes slithered away.
Written 3-11-19
For: "Pick A Title, Vol. 2 - Rhyme - Poetry Contest"
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
The iron bell in the back of
Bramble's Toy Emporium
chimed midnight with a dull,
metallic clang.
From the dark shadows of
the clearance aisle, a gaunt
figure slithered out, its skin
the color of bruised parchment.
It was the Ghoulish Ghoul, a
creature made of discarded
stitching, stuffing, and old,
forgotten playground dust.
He gathered the skeletal
remains of old porcelain
dolls into a circle and cleared
his raspy, rattling throat.
"Gather round, little plastic
souls, and listen to how the
toys here stay alive," the Ghoul
whispered.
"You think children buy dolls
because they are cute, but the
dolls actually choose their owners."
His yellow fingernails tapped
against a hollow wooden rocking
horse, making it swing violently
back and forth.
Every time a child hugs one
of us tightly at night, we steal
a tiny sliver of their warm, living
breath.
A shelf of mechanical monkeys
suddenly began to softly clap
their cymbals in a slow, rhythmic
death march.
By winter, that child grows paler,
slower, and colder, until they
can no longer jump or run or
play.
The Ghoul grinned, exposing rows
of sharp teeth carved out of rusted
metal jacks and broken dice.
Then, while the house sleeps,
the doll slips out of bed and drags
the child's hollow shell down the
stairs.
The glass eyes of a hundred
Teddy bears glinted in the
moonlight, staring down at
the empty room.
They bring the empty child
right back here to Bramble's,
down into the cold, damp
basement workshop.
He pulled a heavy, silver
needle from his velvet coat,
threading it with thick, black
twine.
"We stuffed the hollow skins
with cotton candy, sew the lips
shut, and pop in two shiny, black
buttons for eyes."
The Ghoul pointed a crooked,
skeletal finger directly through
the storefront window, out into
the empty street.
"Look closely at the window
display tomorrow morning,
little ones, and see if you
recognize the new stock."
The jacks- in- box in the
corner began to turn their
cranks by themselves,
playing a distorted, slowed-
down melody.
"Go to sleep now, lock your
toy boxes tight, and pray
your favorite doll isn't
hungry tonight."
With a wet, wheezing
chuckle, the Ghoul melted
back into the shadows as
The final jacks- in- the- box
popped open.
The ignorant ones claim,
I'm full of petty problems,
a slave to the darkness,
but if only they had seen
how I've slaughtered
malicious demonic sea creatures
that slithered along my spine,
undisturbed nor provoked.
You are the singing sunrise
to my sultry sunset,
weaving silver sonnets
from beige ballads
seducing my spirit
into sweet slumber—
igniting nocturnal
Novembers with
crimson showers
upon sepia stems,
because It's no longer
the climatic chaos I fear,
it's the calm you've crafted,
continuing to be
my constant comfort.
Your devotion adds
color and clarity in my once
monochrome existence,
as you've polished
the dimmed stars in my eyes,
they now glitter like
shimmering fireflies,
a reincarnation
of the strength
from Freyja's tears,
after you kissed them
with your silken soft sagas.
When the days begin
to dawn upon dreary dusks
you've aromatized my
universe with summer scents.
Thor's thunder could
not demolish our
kind of spring as
our celestial spirits
float around the nine realms.
A part of you will
forever rhyme as
clusters of couplets
fated to be,
the rest of you flow
like simple stanzas
of empathic free verse.
As my story will make
Odin ashamed, and
Fenrir cry, so when all
the beauty of butterflies
congest my throat,
preventing me from
pouring dreams of
stardusts upon
your selfless quill…
always remember us
for the times we swayed
and enclasped into
our own silhouette,
running from the
stormy disarray of society’s
serpentines,
swimming in Satanic
sapphire seas.
Whilst the debt I owe
for your generosity will drown
me in endless poetry,
floating on metaphors
without blueprints,
keeping the vampires
from Beelzebub's door,
releasing me from the
chains of uncertainty …forevermore.
I threw up at one o’clock.
I hurled again at two.
I threw up banana, an ugly color yellow.
I threw up eggplant, and it landed on some non-fellow.
So sorry, I gulped, as un-tasty bread slithered down.
My raw throat has now turned a putrid, ugly brown.
And please, please, don’t put this out on Facebook, Sweet barely-know-you-cousin of mine.
Beause if you do, this tightly held relationship is at the end of the line.
In a little honorary text six seconds later, I read,“That was absolutely one hundred percent so mean.”
I could picture the idiot laughing and dancing all the way to her even dumber computer machine.
So It Does
Gently tickling the tree tops as the giggling leaves frolic and play in the sultry summer sun.
Caressing and cooling the skin, it's fingers run freely through loose lavish locks like no lover can.
Nary a notice when blasting the blades made to siphon it's strength, spinning, working, it solders on consistent, strong, always unrestrained.
Billowing the buxom sails urging ever onward into the unknown daring adventures to be had.
Whispery kisses to majestic mountains takes tiny fractured flecks in time making jagged crests and regal peaks wither in it's wake
Fine desert sand, it's dunes Slithered slowly like waves across the wilderness, suddenly, voraciously with great velocity enveloping the sky, stripping flesh from bone.
Compelling the atmosphere downward thrashing twisting demanding the earth to surrender whatever it desires.
A soaring galactic vortex spun up from the oceans bowels stalking it's victims, dumping it's deadly deluge with ferocity and force.
Shifting sands and powered mills,
dancing leaves and withered hills,
Typhoons swirl and twisters spin
friend or foe, I give you the wind.
Into slithered path of forest green
my imprints mark a search for peace,
as bushes hide like shades unseen
where vines’ fragrance holds its release.
Drained, I see life through a flower
struggling to curl among meshed weeds,
these limbs falling on ash of hours
like old willows bound to concede.
Enduring climbs upon a hilltop
the blaze of night in gold appears;
so far the wrens, too near I drop
till leaf of hope breaks, as morn nears.
Dusk now closes its drowsy eyes,
as forest still grants what is mine
breathless from new mist, I arise.
while soles run here in thoughts divine
Mau 2018 Standard Contest of Brian Strand
A day's evening time, The sky was overcast, The northern breeze blew, The rain was drizzling slightly, Brightly, the lightning flashed, The thunder continued to rumble loudly, In the light, that single path was visible, Quickly, the reptiles slithered across the road, To welcome the rain, the frogs croaked noisely, My teeths were chattering in the freezing cold, The earthy aroma hit my little nose , I gasped and walked all the way home, That experience taught me a new lesson.
Condo Commando Landings
They came in shiny silver saucer shaped air ships
With cylindrical flashing red lights in the night
From Planet New Jersey
Alien space crafts…. I mean .… weather balloons, (according to NASA)
From many light years…. I mean… traffic lights away
Landing in Miami first with a thirst for power
They slithered from the… ‘Weather balloons” in zombie brigades
Heads tilted, drooling, snorting and looking for trouble
Your condominium community is their new headquarters
Condo commandos are here to stay
A cruel fiduciary species without any borders
Going from door to door
Giving owners & tenants lists of rules with magnitudinal orders
Millions of regulations, line item expenses, and assessments
You must fulfill….You will fulfill…you will comply or die!
“Resistance is futile!” They cry…. Or mumble…or moan
Or whatever it is the walking dead do
If you walk on pavements you will be fined
If you have babies they must return to the womb
No plants…. No flowers… No signs on your condos
And keep your doors closed at all times
Don’t think about crime. Don’t ask any questions
And pay your condo dues or be sequestered
Her eagerness to be successful
bought her to him to be alone
Her need and. desire to copulate
Made loving her less a chore
The wines and bread to began
The evenings scored in song
Might this night start our togetherness
A perfection of you and I
Nothing to sort through
Alone just you and I
Months later he spoke the names of Kong Oru
Kung Fu-tzu Siddhartha Gautama Yosef Ben Yaakov
and Yeshua Hamashlach Batjoachim in Prayer
AS he worked up his nerves to marry him as she
Was pregnant.
He had this as there supper.
Apis Mellifere Mare Crisium
Pigeon and Gamehen
With Mushrooms and Rice
Marinade, Olive Oil, Pomegranate molasses, grated ginger, crushed garlic,red current sauce,soy sauce, lime juice,fish stock,
Liquid smoke, marinade for three to four hours.
Veggies
Green peppers,red peppers,onion,garlic, yellow squash, mushrooms, bacon, sunflower seeds,sesame seed oil,slithered almonds, raisins.