How to paint a striking Rinkhals
Green knee high grass
paves, covers the veldt
making the snake's hideout
its place from where it sails.
First observe the snake
sneaking from the grass
while it passes camouflaged
to the next shade
or lies turned over
as if dead, showing its stomach
enticing you to pass, or to come near
to investigate,
maybe you'll see the stripes
ringing its neck
in colours of cream
or something near to white
or maybe you may not
when in terror astounded
to whoever looks
it flashes alive
like a lightning rod
with death sizzling out of its mouth
and if you can paint this
you have the essence of it,
making terror alive,
in a snake which looks placid
but which can spit and strike
carrying death as far as it goes.
[Rinkhals: Spitting African Cobra.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Encounter with a Rinkhals
It was lying on the ground
turned on its back
with its black-brown
body shining and mouth agape
and looked like dead
and I could see
yellow-white bands ringing
the top of its torso.
Still something in that lifeless
ring necked spitting cobra
scared the living daylight
out of me
and like a lightning bolt
the death-shamming snake
shot upright spreading its hood
and hissing loudly.
Luck was on my side
when that evil reptile
spat at my eyes
and its venimous spray
splattered my glasses.
One moment it looked dead
and the next
it was viciously alive
and struck out at me,
but missed me by a mile.
[Reference: “The Rinkhals also called the Ringhals or Ring-necked Spitting Cobra (Hemachatus haemachatus) is a venomous elapid found in parts of southern Africa. It is one of a group of cobras that has developed the ability to spit venom as a defence mechanism.” Wikipedia.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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In the veldt a spitting cobra is suddenly onto me
In the veldt a spitting cobra is suddenly onto me
and before it can strike or spray poison
there’s a rock that comes to hand
and I smash the head of the spitting snake
but where it lies toppled jerking
the grass, bushes and veldt trembles
there’s a curse that it says with its last breath
as if the dying of it mentions something unheard.
The vast earth grind and boil
as if rock banks gnash on each other
when the leviathan with its smoking breath
bursts from the depths
where suddenly sinister it peers at me
and seven snakeheads spit fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Plaything
The black snake
Hiding in the grass
The black snake
So frightening
The black snake
That wouldn’t let me pass
Was a toy snake
Of a little boy
A toy snake
That was all it was
A toy snake
Left there in the grass
A small toy
Of a little boy
That a little girl
Should have enjoyed
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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The Rinkhals in Muckleneuk Ridge
We were living in the mansion
in Muckleneuk Ridge
when Heinrich wheeled the
rubbish bin out to the street
to leave it for the collectors,
and the red haired neighbour woman
started to shout at him.
I was just getting out of my Volkswagen Polo
and within a minute I was there
like a avenging angel,
telling her to leave the boy alone
and that the pavement
doesn’t belong to her
and that we have got the right
to put out the rubbish bin
for the rubbish collectors.
She got red with anger in her face,
hissed like a snake trying to spit
and cursed me in English
and I told her to get lost.
That woman was aquatically
quite funny and always dressed
in a track suit,
(as if she had no other
type of clothes)
living in a dilapidated house
like a hermit
with rusting sink plate roof
and weeds standing knee high
in her garden
in that rich man’s neighbourhood.
It was when the dogs
tried to catch a half grown coucal
which the wind had blown
out of its nest
and I jumped down the steps
of some terraces
to rescue the poor thing
and I and that wild bird
got to love each other
and it would start to scream
with excitement as soon
as it heard my car
coming near
that Heinrich trapped a venomous
ring-neck spitting cobra
in our garden
and I wanted to kill it
and you said
that even snakes
have a right to live.
I told you that the snake
was apt to kill somebody
as I was leaving for work
and you took the kids
to let it free in the field,
(or so I was told) ,
but a few days later
that utterly rude woman
was really surprised
and screamed for her life
when a snake hissed at her
spitting in her eyes.
[Rinkhals = ring-neck spitting cobra.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Kissing the Fang
Snake biting once biting dead
Snake biting twice biting life
Walking in the sorghum stalk
The oldest foe- the snake heard my feet
The snake raised the neck and hissed
As our eyes met at equilibrium
I stopped and drew my spear
The hateful send boiled to the brim
The brawl commenced I speared it back fatefully
The snake bitten my right feet fatefully
The biting bit me dead I fell down breathing not
The snake bitten my left feet again.
The biting bit me life I raised up breathing lively
The snake snaked away
The venom paralyzed me but
I giddily crawled after the snake
I gasped and kissed the snake fang
I spate the healing saliva in the snake wound
We departed in peace-indeed peace in death
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Snake; an oracle of oath
The godless men worship the snake
The godless men take oath in name of snake
And the curse comes upon wrongdoer
The godless men take oath in the name of snake
And blessing rains upon the innocent
The godless men take oath in the name of snake
And snake bitten dead the lair
And snake spare life of the truer
Despite snake answers to godless men
No votive or thank given to snake, the god
So the stopped the men to swear
By it name, snake said men used
Thunder and fire for swearing instead of it name
As snake disowned the godless men
Hex fallen upon
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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The Crane And The Snake
The crane spreads its wings
while the snake coils to strike
both have great agility
and flamboyance when they fight
The crane hops, the the snake slithers
they sleep at night, near soft flowing rivers
For days the crane plays
bopping its head
swaying it many ways
before standing on one leg
All white
and inocently pure
the snake sees this dance
as an enticing lure
The snake slithers nearer
to have a better view
all this is happening
under a morning mist and dew
But the cranes alert
she knows whats there
peeking out from the bush
under this damp air
The snake gets closer
close enough to strike
the crane blocks with his wing
and postures for a fight
But the snake backs of
smiling at the crane
while the crane stands on that one leg
smiling back just the same.
Charlie Vergara
06.14.2011
31147
poem by White Tiger
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Rinkhals thoughts
I sail to wherever I want to be,
sometimes lie stretched out
in the hot African sun
always inspecting the air
with my forked tongue
sensing with my black shiny eyes
if there’s movement anywhere,
something to spray with my deadly spit
a enemy to strike out at
before it can squash me
and forever I am free
to hit at the heel
to find my own way
through the undergrowth,
to prey whenever I want
with a deadly flash,
to end life, I am created for it
and nothing but death stops me
and sometimes you will find
where I have been
by the marks on the sand,
the remains of my skin
or victims that I have left
or turned right over
poising as if dead,
waiting on the right moment
to come to life, to hit with great speed.
[Reference: Rinkhals: Ring necked African spitting cobra.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Cause of Enmity between Snake and Man
Snake, the first owner of fire.
Dog, the robber of fire.
Man the last owner of fire.
The snake gave birth first to fire.
Thus fire, the first born of snake.
Thus snake, only owner of fire long ago.
One cold evening
The man dying of coldness
The dog seen it master dying of coldness
It went to snake house and begged
The snake, the mother of fire to let
It tail get warm of fire
The snake cordially welcomed the dog
The dog twisted it tail on fire
The tail caught the fire
The dog jumped over the snake in door
Ran quickly to it master, the man
The man took the grass and wood
And lit up the fire
The fire lit up in man’s house
And it extinguished in snake’s house
The snake come to get fire back
But the man attack the snake
The hostility between man and snake
Began then
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Puff-adder
Camouflaged in the veldt,
with its khaki colour
melting into the rocks and grass
its flicking tongue caught my eye,
made me froze in my tracks
where it was lying looking obese
but a puff-adder attacks lightning quick
and do not like other snakes
try to get away,
but is a cocky deviant thing
and your limbs rot off
where it bites.
A startled grey field mouse
was unaware of lurking death
fled out before me
with a peeping sound
and disappeared down the throat
of the once hissing snake.
poem by Gert Strydom
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If I Ever Was a Snake
If I was a snake, my eyes would be green,
I would wander the land and look real mean.
If I was a snake, I'd know how to sting,
Despite all the trouble it would bring.
If I was a snake, I'd be red and gold,
I would slither and slather and eat my mice cold.
If I was a snake, I'd rattle my tail,
But I'd be polite and never go to jail.
If I was a snake, I'd slide on my tummy,
Hamsters and mice would be real yummy.
If I was a snake, I'd live on the ground,
Sleeping and snoring 'till I was found.
I would never learn how to rake,
If I ever was a snake.
poem by October Bradley
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Snake Eye
You paint a picture
So its plain to see
Aint no hiding
No security
Ill be watching
Every move you make
When you hear the rattle
Better be awake
Chorus:
Snake eyes, Im watching
Snake eyes, look out
Snake eyes, its coming
Snake eyes, aint no escaping from the snake eye
(no way)
You leave a footprint
For my eye to see
Catch an echo
From a lock and key
From the shadow
Or behind a rock
Get you anywhere
From the darkest shack
Chorus
Hear a rustle
From behind a tree
Get you running
Home to sanctuary
Bolt the door and -
You think youre safe
Im coming to get you
Gonna reach out (? ? ? )
Chorus
Got the snake eyes, they call me a snake in the bush
Snake eyes, biting
Snake eyes, always watching
Snake eyes
Aint no escaping from the -
Just keep a lookout for the -
Snake eye
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dead Snake
i shared my love and relationship
just some time back...are
standing around me beating me
i am twice dead now
the first when i became a snake
from human
the second when as a snake i was beaten to death
by this inhuman
i did prove i never had any venom even
even then....
i wonder why
these people are
standing around me and beating me
a dead snake
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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~The Snake Bitting into My Veins~
when i look all around and see nothing but happy smiles and laughes it makes me wonder why they get to be happy and i dont, i want to quit so bad and to just give up would only be the easy way out, i want to just quit, to let my mind wonder as the drungs take it's course, to let the snake bite into my vain is the most alive feelings anyone could ever feel, they say it's self destruction and i say it is only making me feel more alive...to feel that snake bitting into my vain is the best feeling money can buy...
poem by Angel Skinner
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Lion's den
If you are staying
With a wicked man
If you are living
With a wicked man
If you are making
Friendship with wicked man
Be sure you are walking
In to the lion's den.
Wicked man is dangerous
Wicked man is more
Dangerous than a snake
Wicked man is more poisonous
Than a cobra the most
Poisonous snake of the world
You may survive from snake bite
But you can not survive from
The clutches of a wicked man
You will die in his den.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Ballad Of Jingle Jangle Jim (Fun Poem 32)
This is the ballad of Jingle Jangle Jim,
the bravest man there has ever been.
Jingle Jangle was walking through a wooded jungle one day,
when from a bush he heard a maiden call out in distress.
‘Oooh there is a snake in the grass.’
Jingle Jangle being the brave sort,
just jumped over the bush to save the young lass.
He grabbed hold of the six-inch snake in the grass.
The biggest grass snake he ever saw.
He wrassled that snake here and there,
even got it in a scissor grip.
He grabbed it with both hands
and waved it about a bit more,
and then rolled repeatedly on the wooded jungle floor.
The poor little snake looked cross-eyed
at this Jingle Jangle twit.
‘Hey, you idiot, you could have killed me.
Now just what do you think you were doing? ’
Jingle Jangle looked at the snake for a minute.
‘Wait just a minute, snakes don’t talk.’
‘This one can and if you don’t put me down I’ll arrest you,
I‘m an undercover pygmy policeman you see.
I’m on a stake out to catch the thief
who has been stealing Farmer Giles,
beautiful, award winning blue-belles.
Now put me down you Jingle Jangle idiot,
or Ill arrest you for the said crime.’
Jingle Jangle dropped him right there.
The grass snake was as dizzy as hell.
He looked up at Jingle Jangle,
shook his little head.
’Farmer Giles can look after
his own precious bluebells
’cause I quite.
The story is not over just yet,
for Jingle Jangle Jim and the snake
did a moonlight flit
with all of Farmer Giles precious bluebells.
The moral of the story
is never ask a snake in the grass
to look after your precious bluebells.
poem by David Harris
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Snakepit
when you find yourself
inside a snake pit
you can not just be naive
to be bitten and even
swallowed by another
snake
you become a snake
yourself and bite
as many as you can
this is the law of the
survival of the fittest snake
and when you emerge
as the victor
go back to your form
coy dove, white feathers,
lovely beak
gentle claws
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fishing For Carp (Hybridanelle)
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and the ringhals till now with eyes brown and unaware
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
when it immediately rears
and girly is ready with the food, ready to deliver
and it gives her a great scare.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and in your mind you are crunching gears
and you wish for her to be anywhere, but right there,
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
and you are angry at the old deceiver
while she brings a tray full of goodies with loving care,
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
luckily she freezes behind you somewhere
and the snake only half alert senses something testing the air
and you wish for her to be anywhere, but right there,
and a nearby tree looks like a quiver
and you are looking for a kind of snare.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and this is now a dangerous affair
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
and the snake only half alert senses something testing the air
slamming down on the snake like with golf driver
and this is it, you have had your share of luck, but still you dare,
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
she screams in fright, while you slam to your right
with your rod whistling
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
and the water shines like silver
and you cuddle her and there's a smile that you share.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
and you think: not again that spitting thing with its deadly sting,
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears,
with your rod whistling
when it immediately rears.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A snake can shade its skin but it still remains a snake.
Proximate Words Of Good And Evil
Hamartia is an umbrella
It covers the head of the snake
A snake that bites the hand that feeds it
A snake by any name
Sin or sins it shelters both
The road more traveled or the road less so
We do not stop to notice
Or to inspect
The snake has followed
Our every step
Sheltered by its covenant with God
His head is neither wet by rain or sweat
For he has no earthly cares
As Hamartia is an umbrella
That covers his transgressions
The ultimate protagonist
He hisses his prayers
With a little dropp of poison
To sweeten the deal he will contract
With you and you and you
As for the others it has long since been too late….
poem by Ted Sheridan
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