"adder" poems
...Short partings do best, though: time wears out affections,
The absent love fades, a new one takes its place.
With Menelaus away, Helen's disinclination for sleeping
Alone led her into her guest's
Warm bed at night. Were you crazy, Menelaus?
Why go off leaving your wife
With a stranger in the house? Do you trust doves to falcons,
Full sheepfolds to mountain wolves?
Here Helen's not at fault, the adulterer's blameless -
He did no more than you, or any man else,
Would do yourself. By providing place and occasion
You precipitated the act. What else did she do
But act on your clear advice? Husband gone; this stylish stranger
Here on the spot; too scared to sleep alone -
Oh, Helen wins my acquittal, the blame's her husband's:
All she did was take advantage of a man's
Human complaisance. And yet, more savage than the tawny
Boar in his rage, as he tosses the maddened dogs
On lightening tusks, or a lioness suckling her unweaned
Cubs, or the tiny adder crushed
By some careless foot, is a woman's wrath, when some rival
Is caught in the bed she shares. Her feelings show
On her face. Decorum's flung to the wind, a maenadic
Frenzy grips her, she rushes headlong off
After fire and steel... .
3.4k
Black adder awaits
Stalks it's prey
First strike
Second strike
Third strike
All is calm
Black adder is dead
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
1213
We like March.
His Shoes are Purple—
He is new and high—
Makes he Mud for Dog and Peddler.
Makes he Forests dry.
Knows the Adder Tongue his coming
And presents her Spot—
Stands the Sun so close and mighty
That our Minds are hot.
News is he of all the others—
Bold it were to die
With the Blue Birds exercising
On his British Sky.
–
We like March—his shoes are Purple.
He is new and high—
Makes he Mud for Dog and Peddler—
Makes he Forests Dry—
Knows the Adder’s Tongue his coming
And begets her spot—
Stands the Sun so close and mighty—
That our Minds are hot.
News is he of all the others—
Bold it were to die
With the Blue Birds buccaneering
On his British sky—
2.9k
He that dwelleth in the
secret place of the most High
shall abide under the shadow
of the Almighty.
2 I will say of the Lord, He is
my refuge and my fortress: my
God; in him will I trust.
3 Surely he shall deliver thee
from the snare of the fowler, and
from the noisome pestilence.
4 He shall cover thee with his
feathers, and under his wings
shalt thou trust: his truth *shall be
thy* shield and buckler.
5 Thou shalt not be afraid for
the terror by night; nor for the
arrow that flieth by day;
6 Nor for the pestilence that
walketh in darkness; nor for
the destruction that wasteth at
noonday.
7 A thousand shall fall at thy
side, and ten thousand at thy right
hand; but it shall not come nigh
thee.
8 Only with thine eyes shalt
thou behold and see the reward of
the wicked.
9 Because thou hast made the
Lord, which is my refuge even
the most High, thy habitation;
10 There shall no evil befall
thee, neither shall any plague
come nigh thy dwelling.
11 For he shall give his angels
charge over thee, to keep thee in
all thy ways.
12 They shall bear thee up in
their hands, lest thou dash thy
foot against a stone.
13 Thou shalt tread upon the
lion and adder: the young lion
and the dragon shalt thou
trample under feet.
14 Because he hath set his love
upon me, therefore will I deliver
him; I will set him on high,
because he hath known my name.
15 He shall call upon me, and I
will answer him: I will be with
him in trouble; I will deliver him,
and honour him.
16 With long life will I satisfy
him, and shew him my salvation.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
He stood on the mountaintop facing north
Calling winds ,water and fire forth
He the white wizard and patron of the earth.
His rival conjured up all below the ground
Where souls burned and evil abounds
He was of a black moon and dead stars
Who was forbidden to enter heavens gates
On their knees they prayed for victory
The white wizard to the one in the skies
The black wizard to he who abides in the underworld
Where sinful souls do lie
North south east west
Chants muttered under their breath
Star covered staffs raised to the sky
The war for humanity had begun
Turn round facing each other
Now it was the destined hour
Commanding bolts of lightening
Through the air with just a glance
Spells, charms, ancient runes
Spirits cackle and rant
Now come the anger of the destroyer
He too had his tricks of conjure
A wall of poisonous smoke thick and deadly
From his fingertips came the cobra and adder
Inhalers of the soul attacked
Cursed snakes of the mind
The white wizard had the words of the holy
The power of the almighty on his side
It was a terrible battle
And it could have been the end of it all
Had the victory gone to the black wizard
The sun drop from its kingdom and fall
Though goodness and purity do not always prevail
On this day of conflict between the darkness and the light
Weakened the dark wizard could not overcome
And was forced to kneel before the wizard in white
But it was agreed between them
As each signed his name in blood
They would meet again in time
On the battlefield of evil and good
The white wizard and the black
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3),
Tammy M Darby
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
What should I be but a prophet and a liar,
Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar?
Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water,
What should I be but the fiend’s god-daughter?
And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog,
That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog?
And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar,
But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of the Psalter?
You will see such webs on the wet grass, maybe,
As a pixie-mother weaves for her baby,
You will find such flame at the wave’s weedy ebb
As flashes in the meshes of a mer-mother’s web,
But there comes to birth no common spawn
From the love of a priest for a leprechaun,
And you never have seen and you never will see
Such things as the things that swaddled me!
After all’s said and after all’s done,
What should I be but a harlot and a nun?
In through the bushes, on any foggy day,
My Da would come a-swishing of the drops away,
With a prayer for my death and a groan for my birth,
A-mumbling of his beads for all that he was worth.
And there sit my Ma, her knees beneath her chin,
A-looking in his face and a-drinking of it in,
And a-marking in the moss some funny little saying
That would mean just the opposite of all that he was praying!
He taught me the holy-talk of Vesper and of Matin,
He heard me my Greek and he heard me my Latin,
He blessed me and crossed me to keep my soul from evil,
And we watched him out of sight, and we conjured up the devil!
Oh, the things I haven’t seen and the things I haven’t known,
What with hedges and ditches till after I was grown,
And yanked both ways by my mother and my father,
With a “Which would you better?” and a “Which would you rather?”
With him for a sire and her for a dam,
What should I be but just what I am?
1.7k
With eyes of black obsidian
And eagle's beak of nose
Black turban of the Taliban
Worn everywhere he goes,
Warrior of God's mountainside
Mujaheddin, known by name,
Pashto is his verbal tongue
And Allah's quest, his fame.
Razored knife in braided belt
Long"Jezail"musket points to sky,
A gimlet glint to garnet gaze
One thoughtless move , you die.
Gliding fast from rock to rock
Gazelle like in his easy grace,
Silent as an adder's strike
Assassin black with turbaned face.
For centuries invaders came
To vanquish this stark land,
Persians,Romans, Russians
And British redcoats tried their hand.
And recently the Yankees
Came with automated war,
To find themselves engulfed
And fleeing for the exit door.
Inexorable Afghanistan
Has bleached their bones as one
Vendetta for the insult
While there's air to breath and gun.
Like Shah Massoud, the warlords
Descend from mountain cave
To slaughter all who venture
Be they terrified or brave.
Tribally disconnected
From Islamabad to Kabul,
Tajik versus Pashtun
Versus Koranic Islam's rule.
No prisoners are taken,
The women always use their knives
And ravines echo shockingly
As tortured slowly lose their lives.
But the sunsets are glorious
Valley mists by morning rise
And row by row of fractured peaks
Rise in grandeur to blue skies.
And the children croon to goat herds
As they graze high meadow's green
And above the taloned goshawk glides
Ever watchful and unseen.
Hulks of Russian gun ships
Litter valleys and the plain
And the ghosts of many nations
Walk these dusty roads of shame.
For the legacy of the Afghans
Is a ****** litany of war
And the road to their tomorrow
Is paved with promises of more.
Marshalg
Wanganui
30 December 2009.
www.worthyofpublishing.com
www.hellopoetry.com
Jan 3, 2010
Jan 3, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC
So it came to pass and the battle begun
By the bite of an adder ,
a sword shinning in sun
You pierced Mordred's heart
with the spear you found
He split your head
knocking you to the ground
Return my sword to the Lady of the Lake
I've not long ,
for tomorrow I won't make
Place my body on my shield
Use it as my tier
Let my people see and shed any tears
Bear me away
to the far sacred shore
My eyes are dimming
I can see no more
Seal my dreams in my breast to be
This be my final request
I'll ask of thee
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
The race of the Spring is giving way
To the pace of the Summer,
More and more
Bees hover among the flowers, and
Young Chickadees are bigger now
Ripening like fruit on the vine,
Passing the test of hours
And in the lawn grass the Adder lies--
Still, stillness it must keep,
Wrapp'd by a hundred butterflies
Reds, oranges, blues, saffron, whites
All inextricably unique
Save when they rise,
Rising as they do like smoke when the serpent bites
The fang'd body uncoiled, vicious, sheer--
Nothing left in which to hide
Nothing more to make disguise
The Adder is bare before our eyes
The Adder is yielded to scrutinize!
See it before it flies! Spare yourself the surprise!
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill
Which ****** scandal stamped upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o’ergreen my bad, my good allow?
You are my all the world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steeled sense or changes, right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others’ voices that my adder’s sense
To critic and to flatterer stoppèd are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense.
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides, methinks, are dead.
1.4k
**10W
deadlier than a
puff adder's tooth
is the POISON PEN**
soulsurvivor
(C) 7/6/2015
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
It's so gratifying to realize that
I don't care what you're up to
Post-deluge-of-Dilaudid. Or
Adder-all-outta-luck
Where the beige meets the blue, and
The cat's smelling flowers, and
We're squished in this chair, here,
But you don't give a ****
This was supposed to be the
Maiden voyage of
The S.S. Dog-Staying-Home-Alone
But, instead, familiar
Anxious chills, and shaky
Hands, and aching bones...
Hell, Baltimore is burning, whilst
Nepal just falls apart.
Sun beams, young, and up-and-coming,
Never getting called to start.
Does the wind smell
So sickly, did it die?
With the rest of me?
Is this that "long-count to thirty?"
Am I being too wordy?
"Stop rhyming, we need to drink."
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
and i’ve lived years of
turbulence; to be loc-
k’d out. problems str-
iking as an adder. pro-
blems adding to the
strike out. end of the
game we all play but
for the lone individ-
ual, and i was hand’d
the pack of smokes
with a ten wrap’d ‘ro-
und. not an act of for-
ced reliance. act of:
– save your money.
you need it more
than i.
and i’ve learn’d to ac-
cept. to receive with
grace and charity, to
offer in grace and ch-
arity. that other ten
percent. braking.
January,
year prior, to be found
destitute yet suffer no
one’s restrictions. and
the numb fingers rem-
ind me of my obstina-
nce, remind me that
i’ve been made to suf-
fer the cold.
oh, how the frigid
men slept with a rotg-
ut shank prepared. en-
ding dreams in which
survival is their sunrise.
and i pull’d a scarf over
my face to obviate the
cold. and in the false
spring of year prior, the
trees were trick’d to
give up their leaves
budding life as an
early spring sacrifice.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
eclipsed by clouds, the moon still shines
over amaranth fields, and ocean brine
over waves of water and land
stretch the light of lunar hands
touching down, a twisted ladder
kundalini as an adder
such sweet teeth are these
but I have a feeling that the echelons are only echos
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
As I pass through the wish e washy
Politics of my superficial mind
The many false faces
My eternal being remains
Frustrated by the ineptitude
Of my political , dishonest mind
As my oceanic being is covered
By a sheet of crusty cold ice
The great masses in my being
Feel disconnected and disillusioned
By the elitist aspects of the
Political mind who live on top
But as I begin to feel my internal council
A silence from within vibrates with
As the many chattering politicians
Scurry and busy themselves
I begin to drop deeper, to know
My many political shapes
How I dream to know the many
Characters of my political being
As to understand the lawmakers
In is to understand my life
Where do I find the honest council
And who are the corrupt lying voices
That whisper in my ear and make
Secret deals behind closed doors
Far far away from my conscious mind
Who is that mischievous characters
Always causing trouble the black adder
Although I do feel large and honest
Politicians within my soul
For they all sit around a long table
That stretches from my solar plexus
Up into my deep open chest
Dressed in light blue I hear them
Tirelessly working shuffling
Their many papers
Recording and studying making their
Many decisions and communicating
With all my many distant parts
Finding a new intimacy with my self
I unlock many doors within me
As I search to please the
Great masses within my soul
On entering the outside world
My being shuffles past the many
Black adders with a chuckle
As he begins to enjoy
Their mischievous ways
My political mind becomes
Purified by the the emotional
Depths of my being , as I am
Infused with a deep ocean blue
From my bottomless heart
As my path in this world
Becomes lubricated in a rich oily blue
Like a giant blue whale I effortless glide
And as I meet the other I stand
Within my my golden heart
As my depths live on the outside
For I carry my heart on my sleave
As I search for the other a thousand
Golden streams from my heart
Descend into me
Penetrating all of me
To find all my honesty
As I seek to unlock the other
By unlocking many doors in me
The political mind can be mischievous
But it can be a great servant
When in touch with our deep blue depths
And the golden threads leading to our heart
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
Her hair- black as a raven’s breast
Eyes glowing through orbs of green
She dances covertly in the dark of night
Where not another soul is seen
warbling a haunting, enchanted tune
Chanting, dancing around the fire
under light of a full evening moon
Questions lie on lips to desire
Is she malevolent or benevolent?
Never a soul has been so bold
to tell their story, too hesitant!
She possesses many powers, many tales
Lifting her hands as she chants
Red mist swirling, twirling behind her veil
Eyes brightening in orbs of green
Chilly mist crawling over her skin
Under an oak tree dancing unseen
Cloaked under her crimson, blood red shawl
Strange sounds and names uttered
as she boldly dances, chanting out her call
Wild, fierce, bold and free
Like a chameleon she changes
in red blazing firelight so unseen
Suddenly, the ground shakes with deafening roar
Bursts of electric blue, beam above her head
Voltaic forces join, shaking earth’s woodland floor
Down the path, robes flowing, blowing in the breeze
Many forces about, electrifying ground and air
Gathering together, chanting, dancing under the trees
Many denizens of this land astound
Warlocks and witches cast their magic here
as their caldron bubbles over ground
They come together from lake and fen
Here they meet from darkened lair
Ferny dells and rocky dens
“Make room”, they call in pitch black night
Bringing many potions to mix them well
Taking wool, wand, bone and eyes, what a fright!
Casting out and about their magic spells
Mixing tooth and tongue and nail
Under fire, water, earth and dung
They mix the caldron, hold the flail
Hemlock, henbane, adder’s blood
Chanting out “By thee we bound upon this road"!
Suddenly the spell’s been cannily brewed
Using blood, eyes, tongue of a toad
As quickly as they came, they hastily leave
Departing forest dark, entering private glades
Leaving once again, only to return
On another chilly, full October moon eve
they’ll chant, they'll brew their magic urns
"Merry Meet", they all say, as they make haste to leave
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
Vipera berus,
Even the name scares me,
But I shouldn’t fear,
For when they come near,
I’m assured they aren’t highly dangerous.
Vipera berus,
It bites but rarely kills,
Look for its zigzag,
Waving like a flag,
From Western Europe to Eastern Asia.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:18 AM UTC
Mind of gold,
teach me how to be numb, how to not feel the cold,
teach me how to be strong, to be brave, to be bold
teach me how to walk, a path , of a story untold
heart of silver,
let my pulse strike and unnerve them, like the hiss of an adder
let my tongue be precise, like the aim of an archer
let my eyes see through deceit, let them be crystal, let them be clearer
Soul of fire,
Let my heart love freely, let it aspire, hope let it acquire
Let my mind be calm, as the bombs drop, and we hear gunfire
Let my voice bring hope, let it sing loud like a choir
Because the situation is dire…
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 2:25 AM UTC
It is only a big fool that marries from a matriarchal family
And a heavy-weight duffer marrying from the matriarchal clan
There is always a poisonous cobra, mamba and adder in the matriarchal
Beauty. Snaring like calypso to thrash the callow ridden odyssey in the lover
As it went for the stooges in Kenya blind to the colubrine station falling in love
With daughters, spinsters, wenches, damsels and brunetes of matriarchal heritage
They were swallowed by the inherent colubrine queen at the bottom of matriarchy
It swallowed them all, lawyers, warriors, merchants, politicians, beggars, billionaires,
Lordships of top-notch corporations, gurus of research, legends of foot-ball, din magnates
Negroes, Asians, Britons, Teutonic, Luos, Mulmbe men, Mijikenda and all that had money,
Their kinsmen and tribes now grieve in a song,
Chanting the song of loss in my mother tongue;
Sialile papa!sialile papa! Sicha esirove!
Sialile yaya!sialile yaya! Sicha esirove!
Wanangali wa wabaseve,Niiye wamulile!
Emenyele buli abira! yakhaba mukisumu!
Ese beve! ese beve! ese beve!ese beve!
By-Alexander Opicho
(From Lodwar, Kenya)
[email protected]
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 5:56 AM UTC
Yeshua was a young lad too,
Returned to Nazareth
When he was two,
Back from Egypt,
What a trip,
With a sib or two;
Riding on the family mule.
Back at home he turned three,
So Mom invited family
To celebrate with bread and tea.
Great Auntie Liz
Gave him a teddy,
Larger than life,
He named it Zeydy.
To watch him lug it
Was pure pathos,
You'd think he dragged
A ten foot cross.
Two years later, he turned five,
Just learning guilt and how to shrive.
Brother Andrew gave him a frog,
That croaked aloud in synagogue.
So they cast him out:
A fitting
Prologue.
But the weirdest pet
For him to get
Was given at the age of eight.
Sister Martha gave a snake.
Yeshua named him Lucifer,
A Proper Name,
For an improper adder.
His crawling, slithering creepy looks
Often found him underfoot,
And crushed one day by ardent error,
So they cooked him on an open fire.
His favourite pet,
A ***** named Mary,
Would wag her tail
When he came home
From wondrous miracles
And lengthy sermons.
Mary never left his side,
She licked his feet
Until he died.
Now the Pope
Has decreed,
All our pets,
All the breeds,
Are welcome to eternal bliss
With their master
And mistress.
There's a pet door
In the pearly gates,
For dogs, frogs
And holy cows;
Even Lucifer's
Back there now.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
I hate you, I hate what you did
I hate how you lied, leaving me broken
Your eyes are like a death sentence
Your mouth a poisoned wine
A pulse of execution drums
A voice of Siren Song
I hate you, I hate what you did,
I hate your tone, your expression
I hate the extent of my confession
I hate your ways, your plans
Your lack of remorse, passion or care
Your golden necklace is a ****** weapon
Your hands are like Neanderthal clubs
Your tongue is a poised adder
I hate what I have become
I hate my lack of resistance
I hate how I feel
I hate the regret I live with
I hate that I meant nothing, a meaningless fling
But most of all my fickle soldier
I hate that you chose her over me
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 2:30 AM UTC
Had an adder in my garden,
His name was Abacus,
A simple snake was he.
He never ever dared to bite,
And his sums were always right.
(c)LIVVI
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 6:41 PM UTC
Snakes!
The daggers fly.
From the tongue of venom.
Addressed at the maiden pure.
Maiden has no reason to endure the taunts.
Her eyes are shut tight.
No desire to be blinded or bitten.
By friends.
Not really there.
After all.
Nobody shows a cobra care.
Hiding in trees while waiting to squeeze.
Lunch with no breath.
As he squashes to death
The boa, not feathered.
Ties himself up in knots.
But, not while he's shedding his skin.
Dinner swallowed whole.
Mind, body and soul.
Only takes him a day or two.
Sometimes a week to digest.
Adder's not an abacus.
Another snake in the grass.
Just like the rest.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
She was only in the mid of her age
When her womanhood was in the prime
That her husband died, died in the bush
He was fighting guerrilla war, for freedom of his country
Freedom of fatherland Africa, when the snake sank its fangs,
The two deadly poisonous fangs in to the flesh of his thighs,
The puff adder poison overwhelmed his blood, he dropped dead,
His ***** instantly erecting with the last bullet,
Bullet of fertility which he had preserved for her,
To fertilize her egg for the last chance,
On which they could sire a child of freedom
And call it Uhuru, liberte, Freheit or Freedom,
She heard of it and she mourned, with deep grief
Fearing for her future life without the husband,
The only one, father of her five sons,
Him who broke her virginity in one afternoon
In the fields under the canopy of a bush thicket,
He broke her virginity with electric like energy
In the stiffness of his ***** African *****
She wailed with sweetness of sensuousness
Clinking on his muscular and warm body,
Twinning her legs around his wonderful waist,
In libidinous foretaste of her soon wedding,
She remembers all these in cacotopian bitterness.
On getting news of his death, in the bush,
She swore to herself to remain pure till her death,
She kept on washing his clothes for years and years,
Preparing and preserving food for him every evening,
She often played *** with him in her sweet dreams,
She ironed his clothes and brushed his shoes for years,
He often came in the night, to give her baby talk,
She still wrote love letters to him via the address;
Po box, care of death in the city of his grave,
She did all these for decades after his death.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
I am a Phoenix Bird I will rise from the ashes again. I have done it once and I can do it again. I don't need any man to help me to do at all.
I trusted my heart to a man who said he loved me and then he left me
for no good reason. He caused my world to come crashing down but he forgets I am street smart and street wise and I have never been babied,
I am not a mama's girl and I have been out in this world on my own before.
I will rise more glorious than before and then I will strike like a adder snake in the grass and bring you down and you will wish you had never left me or hurt me at all because you will be like Humpty Dumpty that took a great fall and Humpty Dumpty that fell off the wall and all the kings men could not put you together again because you failed to listen to me again.
I will be like the Phoenix Bird and Rise out of the ashes and when I do watch out I am coming after you to hurt you like you hurt me but you won't know when it will be.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC