Snake’s, Bird’s.

Couple daft poems I’ve been goofing around with.

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The snakes poem

To wonder free, I once rejoiced.

So suddenly, indifference.

Forks in roads, allude to choice.

Concurrently, worn worried feet ,

Pace paths of least resistance.

From underneath, a quiet voice,

Filled with under-toned indignance, .

A sly serpent, who’s quite content,

In his undergrowth existence.

Affrontedly, the snake did speak:

“You may bid past paths good riddance.”

I heard quite clear, and understood;

His words seared on my psyche.

The serpent jeered, down in the mud:

“The scarecrow whom no crow does fear,

Knows promotion is unlikely.”

Absurdist peers, form bonds in blood,

Then their first tears are shed lightly.

Inert ideas, of coming floods,

And old notions deemed unsightly,

Earn hurtful jeers, from those deemed good,

By our emotional Lord Almighty.

The birds poem

A lone bird in the sky,

Left me pondering why,

Through thunder he’ll fly in migration.

I know winter is nigh,

And I wonder if I’ll,

Arrive at the right destination.

Oh old Father Time,

Are those old hands of thine,

Arthritic or growing inpatient?

Will the sun again shine,

On cold lands left behind,

Has he grown tired of their of their dull Incantations?