B.J. Ayers

Rookie - 114 Points (06/25/1940 / North Carolina)

The Snake - Poem by B.J. Ayers

It slithers along the ground,
Forked tongue slips side to side,
Some say its Satan,
As it slithers without a sound,

Slipping between stone,
Sliding over leaves,
Sensing its prey,
It is all alone,

Now you see it,
Now you do not,
Stand still, don't move,
Alas you be bit,

So hard to see,
The colors of leaves,
Stand still, stand still,
A statue you must be,

The heart races,
The glands sweat,
You must not move,
A mere two paces,

You see the head,
Sliding over your boot,
A body so long,
And seeking to be fed,

To stand so still,
How long it seems,
No one knows,
The nausea you feel,

It slithers away,
Your muscles melt,
It's over you say,
What a day, what a day!


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 17, 2011


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