The Pretty Serpent Poem by Benjuzzy Okpuzor

How many men, sons
And souls you have
Spield and spiked
With your beauty, who

Will not bow to that
Snorious tones you
Told like in Eden
That made her yield.

That slippery lips i
Will never sight to
Sigh, who will not go
Astray gazing at those

Starry striaght eyes
Sited like the little
Queens of the heavens,
Those eyes bright as

The night stars, still
As clever as ever sends
It radiance to me, I
Wonder why the maker

Made this middle tree
if we were to be wise
And went astray? what
Will a mortal man do

Than to yield to her
Lead, that pretty serpent
That silence all speeches
With love, in her side I

See sadness in the face
Of the ugly, I spent
Endless, and sleepless
Night waiting and wishing

To worship her, but
atlast a snake she is
And my risk and reek of
Death.