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While walking
In his garden
One morning fine
Seeing a snake
He felt fear
Galloping down
His spine.
As a
Camouflaging trick
Attired a green silk
While zigzagging in
The grass thick
He should have
Squashed its skull
With a walking stick.
But he preferred
To walk away
“Let it there stay
I better
Keep it at bay.”

When he
Came back home
At night
He learnt he has
Lost his son
That suffered
A snake’s bite.

Misplaced mercy
Could backfire
To seek peace
With the snake
One must not tire,
For it will drag one
Into a quagmire
Obligating paying
A price higher.

Ask for mercy
An offender can’t
It is also not right
Unless s/he
Is repentant.

Also forget not
“Strike before
You are struck!”
Could afford one
Prowess luck.

If
The aforementioned
Advice you got,
“Hit when
The iron is hot.”

Modesty to
The heinous
And lazy
Is equally crazy.

If a human snake
Buy time
No doubt it will
Will commit
Further crime.
Forgiving  the unrepentant is wrong
Part I
The night, no moon in the sky
The wind, full force as to fly
The cold, as to numb the blood
The trees, shadows the vision flood
The night, dark blue in the water
The wind, of rose is the howled attar
The cold, close to freezing the lake
The trees, static dormant to a shake
The night, solitary is the dark
The wind, momentary is its mark
The cold, nearly settled is the doubt
The trees, silent is their spout

The night, the wind, the cold, the trees

A Swan glides with an asynchronous thread
Feathers in the umbra, the heart partly dead
He has lost his dearest, his alluring arch
Spring isn't coming, no September or March
Once there was another swan
To make the lake shimmer with dawn
Their courtship was the core of the pond
A rare gem of opal coloured their bond
Unlike gems, though, be crushed love can
And it was time's deed right there and then
She now is in a new safe haven
And left was him with an egg of a raven

In the midst of this midnight dreary
The Swan was forlorn and weary
But the clouds of metal became of cotton
The grey marsh sudden, was brief forgotten
A shred of light, two lions glowed
Their manes of fire their passion showed
"What a scene" the Swan had thought
"That's the fervor my heart had sought
Forever bound by a curse of ice
I am void and there's no price
To unlock me from the eternal dream
And let me find my lion gleam"

Still, the sky is yet so white
And the past gloom cannot him fright
At his right the Swan stare
Intrigued by the unceasing flare
A piglet and a spider, what a scene
Why are they ringed by a sheen?
In the night, they play like friends
Fight, discuss and make amends
A web of favours and support
Parades of gratitude are never short
"Oh, is it fondness what I am lacking?
Is this why I am ever cracking?"

Now the display is certainly over
And the Swan hopes to find his clover
No more than ever he is so keen
To live anew and be serene
The night enjoys the happy mood
And let the moon stop its brood
The clouds, at once, no more than mist
An ethereal cast, will this be a tryst?
The moon glitz on a past reflection
A female black swan of mystic complexion
An owl hoots afar and is dismissed
As the hero sings after being kissed:

"Where have you been, my dove?
Why did you leave, my love?
I was so lost in here
Without your voice to hear

Without you to kiss me
Without you to bliss me
I was just a shadow
Missing the rain and the rainbow

But now I can see life
And each thing is so rife
I will give you my heart
So we won't fall apart"

Part II
Night, the moon is sublime
Wind, tame like no other time
Cold, feeble against heart's motion
Trees, mere pawns in this ocean
Yet silence cannot much contain
The disturbing growls of owl disdain
It thrives with strength, to fill the lake
To **** the love and pleasure take
The Swan, still, has just eyes... no ears
So to halt death from ousting his tears
Joy runs his body with iron vigor
His love denies dearth of such rigor

The courtship swims with celestial sync
In an opal ballet of black and white ink
Lastly, his arch the Swan can complete
With a dubious promise of endless heat:
"Our past is antiquity and shall be erased
The future, fertile, a wish to be chased
Let us embrace and with nature be one
Me and you, the rest will be none.
Though, I will only expect your happy devotion
No fear, no sadness, no other emotion
You are my minion, and mine in exclusive
Is this what you craved in your hope elusive?"

The Swan is soon hesitant of the deal
His novel grasp masks her appeal:
"Your words of ice burn down my feathers
Your crooked intentions prevent us together
I was foolish in you to trust my belief
Your offer won't stop my desert, my grief
Love can't ever be monochromatic
Yes, there are moments one's ecstatic
But endless joy is not the way
It will prevent freedom and will me betray
The value of love is shallow without anguish of partition
The bones of love are brittle without a conflict's remission"

The eyes of the black swan fumes in red
The clouds, the moonlight they shred
A tempest thunders over the misty lake
Out of the haze, the bird is now a snake:
"Your faith is missplaced in a callow profile
Your passt came closse to you beguile
You think your luck in love issn't departed
But you are full of sself-pity, fainthearted
Honesst love iss the piercer of my power
And IF you find it, I will to you cower
Yet you have nothing; you're dessperate for ssomeone
Had welcomed the deal, you wouldn't be undone"

The water spreads cold with every heartbeat
The quick rime sings Swan's defeat
The snake reveals its fangs of ink dark
And bites the Swan, a sanguine red mark
All seems lost to this tragic hero
A heart's betrayal in the absolute zero
Until a hoot echoes through the trees
And the bird finally the owl sees
With claws of steel, the snake it slashes
In response, lightning flashes
It breaks the ice and the reptile sears
The Swan is now saved, but not from his fears

A boy wakes up in a nice little room
With a painting of the lake and a flower in bloom
A bee buzzes around about the place  
And in the White Rose, lends with grace
Both make a sound akin to a chatter
They seem happy with their talking matter
The angered boy, annoyed by the insect,
Into the painting, the bee he projects
With a new aspect thrown away
He burns down reality's display
And when a dove finds its way out
The man its wings brake and his out route
This poem tells the story of a forlorn Swan that finally finds his true love but ends up discovering she is an illusion of his own desperate desires. It is divided into two parts as this is a large poem that features two different sets of struggles: finding happiness for yourself while everybody around you seems to have already found their answers, and learning that falling in love with anybody solely because of loneliness and desperation is not healthy in the long run. The poem transforms the speaker into a Swan and ends with an ambiguous point where it is unknown if the Boy is real or if the Swan is actually the real version of the Boy. Or maybe it is left ambiguous if the emotional events of the anthology have left the speaker confused about what is real and what is a dream (is the dream the reality he wants to exist in?), and now he needs the face this new reality he is in instead of dreaming about mystical animals, storms, and flowers.
Alicia Moore Jan 2021
She carries bruises in her grasp,
Like a plague she cannot unclasp.

The bruises hurt as much as heartbreak;
A piercing bite        
from a              
venomously
seductive      
snake.
Marie Dec 2020
The Umbilical cord is cut upon .... first breath.
Separating us from mother;
Pushing us to thrive in a manner outside...
Maternal internal cannibalistic vampirism.

Circumcised upon ****** classification.
Separating us from father;
Peeling away the skin,
Exposing the core of the apple.

Hair is pruned.
Separating us from the psyche;
Leaving us in the dark,
Like a shadow without a heart.

Held up by our foot.
Strung like a pretzel;
Smacked by the tune of historical blood,
Claiming degrees of separation.

We deny...
We are
       (Mother and Father...
        God and Devil....
        Creator, Perpetrator,
        Anti-Violator and Master Manipulator.)
  Adam, Eve, Snake and Apple.

--Marie Moldovan ©️ 2020
Seranaea Jones Feb 2021
-


I hit something with my right front
wheel on the highway as I drove
home one evening.

A thump was felt, followed by
"Clank" "Clank" "Clank" "Clank"
"Clank" "Clank";

Well, I stopped to investigate—

And found the microphone cable
of a CB radio embedded into my tire
between the treads,

I did not pull on it for fear of deflation,
so I taped it to the valve stem and
slowly made my way home.

Ended up having to pull the tire
off the rim in order to reveal the
scope of my situation,

And discovered within—
                                         
A dead Cobra...


s jones
July 2020

.
21 Feb 2021


this poem was written  
after pulling the aluminum
hexagonal handle
of a scratch awl out
of my tire last summer—

of all things...

Cobra—
a brand of CB radio
popular in the late 20th
century


.
Ayesha Nov 2020
"I can stop whenever I want," I thought.

Days pass on in a blink or two, nights even lesser
Sometimes they linger to catch their breath
while the moon sails like a leaking, exhausted raft—
forever rowing, never moving— in a silent sea
And even if I could grab hold of the sky
and spin her till a peachy blush lit up her face
what good would it do to this melancholy land?

When a grief-stricken snake banged at my door, one stormy night,
I let him in for his toothless, shivering lips
—blue like cold himself—
became the very cause of my liquifying heart;
what could the piteous reptile be offered but
a chalice of fresh, steaming, crimson blood
He gave me his ruby smile and I tied it around my neck
How do you repay such love— how so
if not by surrendering your own doomed flesh?

Did I, or did I not
Roam about narrow alleys of ancient cities housed with words?
make home with wounded rugs left
in places even orphaned kittens avoided
—slept like an unborn child through sunless hours of dark's embrace
Swam through tireless waters—
with a pillowcase filled with tales
Crowned by impressed kings in some lands,
robbed by faceless folks in others.
Carried a plank or two when stories stopped earning me food

All worth another flip of the unheard page
Did I or did I not then forget it all—

As winter moved on to the land next door
sky stole away the very snow she had once abandoned;
lifted the frosty veil off her sun's flushed face
But even as fox gloves and lilies opened their arms,
I let the snake stay in my castle walls
sent out an army and fought wars against stars
when he said he deplored the light
He grew up fast, developed a habit of hissing—

And the neighbourhoods passed like ecstatic tides
left behind by unstopping ships

The moon keeps chasing his blooming sun,
never too far from her rays
and they kiss in the mornings and kiss in the dusks
And the sky steals quick glances at sea,
as he smiles knowingly
The snake fills up a goblet of wine,
feasting upon treys filled with meat—roasted and boiled and baked

And I stumble through empty streets, vomiting out all but him—
Vomiting out all that’s left of me—

"I can stop whenever you want," he whispers.
Samara Nov 2020
Poison is a woman's weapon-
venomous like a snake.

It won't **** you
all at once
like the brute force of his hands.
Instead, it takes you slowly-
deteriorating your sense of self
making you wish for death.
Death that brings end to dying.

she has no moral qualms
when it comes to you and all your wrongs.
she only knows betrayal
and that's enough for her.
Zeena Miedema Oct 2020
I fought a snake last night.
A boy came after me to do the same.
But I told him I already did it.
He seemed to not really believe that I already gone through this fight.
It was over but he made me do it again.
So I threw the boy to the snake and ran.

Something in me told me I had to do this to really finish it.
Couldn’t help being a bad ***** in my dream.
It was his time to fight so now I had to leave.

Be free.
Run, run, run.
Run to the city.
The brown empty city in the night.
Through the night.

I don’t know why this keeps on happening.
It’s like I’m forced to fight every time before being able to let go.
Can’ t just shake it off cause there’s always something, somebody left to fight with or fight for.
And afterwards being afraid of what will be my sentencing.
It’s unacceptable, you did something horrible.

Something in me told me I had to do this to really finish it.
Couldn’t help being a bad ***** in my dream.
It was his time to fight so now I had to leave

**** it off and then you can run free!
Run, run, run.
Run to the city.
The brown empty city in the night.
Through the night.

Life = death &
Death = life.
When you let go you will know.
You will know when you let go.
23-10-20
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