Treasure Island

Edwina Reizer

(12/22/1937 / LAKEWOOD, NJ)


Snakes in the grass
sliding and slithering
furtively so slow,
can attack so quickly
but at least you know.
The real snakes in the grass
sidling and creeping
slowly so you won't see,
approach from out of nowhere
lest they be
noticed at all.
They watch the fall
then slither away
and take it all,
your peace, your harmony,
your way of existing
as they are co-existing
right in your sight.
These are the snakes
that speak with forked tongue
to our innocent ones, oh so young.
They coerce them like the
serpent in Eden.
So our youth
can't ever stop the bleedin'.
For snakes in the grass
are leading the way
with everything false
into moral decay.
How do we stop these
snakes in the grass?
They've been around
since time's begun.
We must turn a deaf ear
to every last one.

Submitted: Wednesday, August 04, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (SNAKES IN THE GRASS by Edwina Reizer )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe Updates

New Poems

  1. No More Sorrow, Dr. Emmanuel Moore Abolo
  3. Let me see my life, gajanan mishra
  4. Y/.. Gold, Aufie Zophy
  5. A LONE JOURNEY, Satish Verma
  6. Time Of Discontent, Richard Provencher
  7. I am the citizen of the world, gajanan mishra
  8. In sad way, hasmukh amathalal
  9. Obsession, Francie Lynch
  10. winter, gordon nosworthy

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

[Hata Bildir]