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A little knowledge is ....


goldenlangur

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A little knowledge is ....

 

 

 

Now, our young cobra

 

has not read

 

Whitman's Leaves of Grass

 

or visited the Savannah, cradle of civilization.

 

He is five summers old

 

with a gleaming un-blemished hood,

 

King of the grassland he surveys

 

in the monsoon sun.

 

 

His father, the Old Hood

 

dozes under shades of boulders

 

unkempt of crown and peeling scales.

 

He warns:

 

Those monsters that rumble

 

beyond the long grass

 

are our nemesis.

 

 

Nonsense, scoffs Young King

 

With our venom we hold sway,

 

who will dare face our glorious heads

 

or provoke our blistering spit?

 

 

But Old Hood

 

crouches in crannies,

 

turns his face away

 

at every sound of wheels

 

buries his fangs

 

and waits...

 

 

Young King

 

filled with pheromone for a Queen

 

and a yearning to exorcise

 

Old Hood's fears and fretting

 

ripples down the black topped road,

 

his back, glistening and firm.

 

 

His hood glints in the red sun

 

then in the headlights of a lorry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For some unfathomable reason the font size for the last line does not/will not match the rest!

goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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Frank E Gibbard

A little knowledge is ....

 

 

 

Now, our young cobra

 

has not read

 

Whitman's Leaves of Grass (* = * nor have I - Frank)

 

 

This is great GL, enjoyed thoroughly on initial reading. GOT to run to a doctor's appointment sadly I'd like to give more comment. Ticks many boxes in metaphor etc. life parallels and so forth. Must rush. Best of your ouevre IMO/ great. Later, FG.

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Hi GL, This is truly something different from you. I found it hypnotic like the sway of the cobra. A little creepy, I am not a big fan of snakes.... especially not lethal ones. But I loved the older cobra settling back out of the way while the young one stuck his neck out where it could easily get run over... , hmmm there is a life story in its self...

 

As an insurance agent, I talk to all new teen drivers, I should read your poem to them, it says it so well. Teens are so full of life and so close to death... they are in their highest mortality years (automobile accidents are the #1 killer of teens here in the US) - this young King is no exception.

 

I really enjoyed reading this one, and your young King has missed a lot if he hasn't read Leaves of Grass... I love Whitman's energy. But I guess I have missed much not having seen the savannah... Does the Grand Canyon count as a substitute? No cobras there but there is a rattler or two...(not nearly as grand as the cobra but they can be just as deadly. God, I hate that sound, like a silent brrrr that trills off the tip of the tongue, it sends chills up my spine. Just thinking about it, I can remember my mare tensing beneath me, ready to bolt sideways. She didn't like those things either. )

 

Wow, this poem has sent me all over the place in my thoughts... That is what good poetry does... Thanks

 

~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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A well-told fable, Goldenlangur. It would serve the young well to heed the wisdom of the more experienced. (Though I fear this young King won't even know what hit him.)

 

Tony

 

 

PS -- I resized the font in the last line.

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Frank E Gibbard

 

Now, our young cobra ....

 

His father, the Old Hood

 

dozes under shades of boulders

 

unkempt of crown and peeling scales.

 

He warns:

 

Those monsters that rumble

 

beyond the long grass

 

are our nemesis.

 

 

Nonsense, scoffs Young King

 

With our venom we hold sway,

 

who will dare face our glorious heads

 

or provoke our blistering spit?

 

 

But Old Hood

 

crouches in crannies,

 

turns his face away

 

at every sound of wheels

 

buries his fangs

 

and waits...

 

 

Young King

 

filled with pheromone for a Queen

 

and a yearning to exorcise

 

Old Hood's fears and fretting

 

ripples down the black topped road,

 

his back, glistening and firm.

 

 

His hood glints in the red sun

 

then in the headlights of a lorry.

 

I said on my previous comment how good I thought this poem & I wanted to add what cam to mind based on Hollywood Westerns I've seen Golden. Such echoes reverberated for me in your scenario with snakes. You know a young hothead brave not heeding the sagacious advices of the aged Indian chief, a true reflection of life you illustrate in a lovely fashion GL. The descriptive power of these lines work so well ripples down the black topped road,

 

his back, glistening and firm.

 

 

Brilliant my friend. Regards, Frank.

Edited by Frank E Gibbard
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  • 2 weeks later...
Larsen M. Callirhoe

great lesson for young ones in this one. i might borrow this and read it to my nephews. excellent poem GL.

 

victor

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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Thank you so much Frank, Tink, DC, Tony and Victor for your wonderfully encouraging reviews.

 

Frank - I'm glad that the story brought you images of the Westerns where the old chief rules with his wisdom. I appreciate your returning to post a fuller review.

 

DC - so glad this worked for you.

 

Tink - What a great flow of associations!

 

 

Tony- thank you also for changing the size of the last line.

 

Victor - I'm touched that you think your nephews might enjoy this tale.

 

 

I appreciate all your comments and I'm delighted that this mad write raised a smile or two.

goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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Hello Goldenlangur. I am not sure how I missed this wonderful piece, sorry for the late reply. :icon_redface:

 

This is well written poem and you did perfect metaphor with the young cobra.

You described good the responsibility and irresponsibility in one package and the fear too from the unknown feature or better to say - destiny?!

 

I loved the the beginning and gives a good hit to the poem.

 

Thank you for sharing

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Hello Goldenlangur. I am not sure how I missed this wonderful piece, sorry for the late reply. :icon_redface:

 

Aleksandra

 

Hello Aleksandra,

 

Please don't apologize - I too often miss works posted here.

 

I'm so glad that the young cobra metaphor works and feel rewarded that you liked the conversational tone of the opening :) .

 

I suppose youth, for all its charms, does have some pitfalls.

 

 

Thank you.

goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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