Short Snaking Poems

velvet under leaves 
snaking roots 
of ivy...

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Silent moon-lit night
Snaking inside my thought's train
Longing to hold you....

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the wind, somehow seen,

                         snaking over cornfields green,

         winged, serpentine !...

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stripes snaking through verdent grasses
we follow along in a helicopter
appreciating that natives are free
like wild mustangs, enjoying their full power
not locked in zoos, separated by bars...

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Adventurous moonlight

Snaking through trees left and right

Landing on your smiling face

Unaware of the sly pun gone by

Mere backdrop to the laughing cries

Of summertime in the city

Pity...

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noon sun's halo at play

       silence echoing away

              scarecrow sways the day



              warm wind, somehow seen

       snaking across cornfields green

winged, serpentine!...

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Slip sliding from chilled breeze
Slivers of flurries waltz
Softly mantling old trees
Silver-coated by rain:
Snaking down down glossed yard
Soon...frost will enchant you
Smile! Crystals peck your cheeks....

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Orca breaches amid 
oarfish snaking among
oblivious new pod.
Orcan arching bodies
obscure oarfish slithers
on an unseen loner;
ocean’s oldest secret.





3-28-2022
In Search Of Prey Poetry Contest
Joseph May...

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Apomasu, the stream snaking
Under the forest drinks enough rains 
Grasses flaunt their greenest gowns to 
Ungulates who were 
Starving at the dry banquets of 
The previous months

Birth date: August 8...

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Mist covered tall trees
Myna on a wire
Sunshine mugged by clouds
Smoke of factory
Road snaking uphill

Cold numb fingers
Chill wind on face
Dry thirsty throat
Eyes yearning more

Humming wind
Rustling leaves
My breathing

Wet soil
Wet wood

Bread...

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The river kicks up its heels in swinging sway and lilt.
Winding downstream in a sinuous snaking stream bed it built
By eroding outer bends, building up its inner bends with silt
Defying the straight and easy path, which like a flippant lover it jilt...

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I ask of the desert dunes,
The stately Kilmanjaro, the 
Mambilla outcrops;
I ask of the great forests
The seven old rivers
Snaking through my black 
homeland;
I ask of the noble rains,
Every ancient observer;
Does it matter who built the 
Old Zimbabwe
When we feed not today
Our hungry hordes?...

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A snaking mouth sloughs two spines;
the rattle of vertebrae.

A woman learns to ride them, feels
the trombone slide of a dragon’s tail.

A man lifts on tip-toe
not wanting to fumble.

They knit lusts to opening prayers,
cadavers to body bags, 
close a gnash of gaping space -

block a cold throat
from an exposed face....

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fog-dampened sunbeam,
       gleaming stairway to somewhere,
up, down anywhere!


                      while 'neath sun's halo,
                                silence stirs echoes away,
                      scarecrow scares the day!


the wind, somehow seen,
         snaking over cornfields green,
winged, serpentine!...

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clouds tumble over peaks damp air chews chill skin
fingers grip their bones no retreat or trace of steps
snaking tongues of mist race upwards leaden cloud overhang
two worlds press
hammer hands  nail a tiring flesh 
breath hooked to peril
now grin and yowl  now shout 
a stone arrowhead aimed at nothing and everything
climb on...

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Can't go out
Weather won't permit
Too cold, too wet, too slippy
Dressed up warm 
I clean and cook
And wash and iron and polish
Listen to the radio
Despair at the news
Hum to the music
Escape from the world
Enter boredom
Slowly at first
Then snaking into the psyche
Banging with frustration
Screaming at the world
I wan't to explode...

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a placid scene
under eyeliner horizon
dew drops tearing across canopied skies

roiling thunder
shaking the earth and heavens
a flood falls, staining porcelain facade

the stream snaking its way
through flat-topped mountains
and forests untouched by man

the river returning to its origin
a sordid spring once wet with creation
now run dry by rage...

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Locust of green
       Swarm of yellow
       Procession,
       Snakish march along
       The snaking path
       Obeisance!

       Mother,
       Dark fertile mother of
              Ijesa-isu Land
       Giant potter of thousand fingers
       Meek moulder of Midas touch
       Age-long furnace of golden embers
       Behold a citadel
       Alas!...

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Snowy week, snaking ever so gracefully down,
    Kicking up cold powder blanketing the ghost town's
       Ice slopes, leaving behind you...
     "I passed through here" tracks brand-new.
    Nothing could be more carefree!
 Gosh, I wish I knew how to ski!


Skiing Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
Date written: 01/20/2023...

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The snow 
covered ground
accentuated chameleon
leaves quietly hanging
from stoic branches
of proud trees piercing
chilling spaces
of the coming eve.

Above in the cold
silhouetted sky
the coming full moon
briefly peeked out
before the slow passing
of dark veiling clouds.

Below, a snaking trail
of red lights
made their slow crawl
across this winter canvas
of nature’s brush....

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Grit flies from spinning rubber,
the traffic is edging through roads,
narrowed, by the plowed and pushed aside.

Curb-side snow remains; solid humps turn brown,
in an un-melting light.

A lone chicken hawk circles an iced-over acre
of snaking roadway,

its black track attracts the birds eye,
as if it were the contrail of an elongated rat,
stretching into a bolt- hole of frozen sky....

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Listen to poem:

Signal fires by the second ignite the abyss
Only an assassin of the deep that knows not to miss
Love in the universe more than defines this
Darkness is given more than a trillionth kiss
Snaking through the galaxy distruction in its hiss
Identifying as a rock it will leave a mark on this premiss
Gone will be all worries brought by its dismiss
Noting the impending doom, I will enjoy such bliss...

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I was little
My dad called me
Medusa
I owned
Feral hair
Curls 
Snaking
Untamable
Fierce
Growing independent
In any direction
Like me
He said

He said it 
With pride
And I believed him
Why wouldn’t I
He was my dad
He knew everything

So I converted to
Independent
I pretended
Fierce
I grew 
Untamable

I became myth
Medusa
One who kills
One who dies
For the sake
Of all men...

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And still

It was not all over, 

As if you wanted to listen 

To the dying echoes

Of my leafless urge

Snaking through the 

Valley of my just widowed heart.



While the shape of dead tolls

In the blue evening 

Till the last purple flame

Of lust for life-

Dies away, leaving

Heaps of ashes

On the bald foreheads 

Of the darkest hours-

In the nuptial bed

Of my crystal heart....

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At the edge of darkness
	Sleeps the epitaph of mercy,
Since the time spark-lit her magic
	Shadow cursed the hour of urgency.

Here comes the ancient mist…..
	Snaking her way beneath the well of toxic grim sin,
Thus commences the chase, till the end of days
	 And so begins the epic of the invisible amongst the unseen.


(C) Obaidur Rahman. Published in the poet’s debut book of English poetry titled “The Mystic Inferno” in 2012....

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