Snakes


I believe that as poets we should imprint the thoughts, actions and deeds about us. Like poets of old who laid their trade to the mast of their beliefs. I try to remain outside the cycle of lives about us, to find the thought that I seen as I stroll about the day.

Sadly I see too many of those in power or influence abuse such trust and make their gains. Also guiding those who trust in them on a path that keeps them fenced in as it were. Thus I call them Snakes! Snakes that slither to their prey and misguide them.

Thus is the basis of todays poem. It does not make an opinon, BUT Poiunts out what this poet sees about. No media or press is needed to see what victims see or feel.

IF you feel the need to comment, I welcome as always. BUT urge you to be nice.


Snakes


The snakes in the grass slither, 
To their prey until they wither.
Beneath the pressures brought,
As they march to the battles fought.


The people confined within their box,
Remain whilst the snakes out fox.
The charmed tongue eases minds,
When freedom sought by snakes blinds.


The snakes sing to a different tune,
As the people cry to a hero swoon.
Break the cycle change the path,
Before the mob secures their wrath.


The numbers rise as minions mourn,
Soon the silver tongue becomes worn.
Yet no hero rise to the minions aid,
Duty done lies are set to make the grade.


Where goes the day when snakes were few,
When minions views became their glue.
A pillar sent to dry the rains becomes in error,
Becomes the bearer Of deaths own terror.




© Pat Fitzgerald 2021


Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Thank you for taking time to read this poem and post. I welcome all comments and encourge you to be polite in such comments. Until next time Please take care and look out for those in need of a little love.


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Author Joanne Reed

This is Your Quest - Your Mission to Find Happiness

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