Snakes Alive Poem by Matt Mooney
Snakes Alive
Watched the African snake handlers
As they drew their bread and butter
Unceremoniously out of canvas sacks
And dared us, standing there in awe
Of writhing bodies and darting fangs,
To coil them round our necks for fun.
Some of us buried our fears to dare
Afterwards to be no worse for wear-
Their masters from Morocco gripped
The snakes behind each moving head:
To let them free meant we were dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 5:21:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
i got a VERY HEARTY laugh from To let them free meant we were dead...........you were vacationing? i REALLY, upon first reading bread and butter, thought the snake handlers were breaking for lunch! really. or were to feed their 'pets' some B&B. but NOW i understand your seldom-used-(around-me-anyway) term for one's means of earning a living. i'm glad my struggle to find this poem's page succeeded! ! ! ! a 'lovely' scenario. to MyPoemList. bri :)