Saved by the Predator

Eagle flies high up in the sky,
Sharp eye looking for its prey;
Will she spy me, though I try
To hide, in tall grass confide?
Majestically circling far above
Talons cold, there is no love;
And what do I hear in hiding
Now slithering to my abiding?
Large, long, sleek, not meek;
Suddenly the air is pierced
And gone is serpent so fierce,
Up into the clouds so high,
And I on ground bid goodbye;
I breathe a sigh of relief, cry:
Saved from danger by danger
As eagle flew high in the sky,
Sharp eye looking for its prey

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And the Serpent Found a Wife

How can we raise a paean to such a saurian
Without playing the part of the tragedienne?
He is an ugly reptile of grotesque formation,
Curse of creation and symbol of damnation!
But one might rightly suppose that everyone
Deserves an encomium no matter the odium;
‘Give the devil his due’ may be true
But you knew precious little praise
Would be raised up for his person
When you took the bait and sealed your fate
At an altar with many witnesses to tragedy!
Now an agony comes in living your phantasy
Without any approbation for the ruination
Of your life because those who do love you
Esteem you too much to offer such a crutch!
No, there is no commendation
For your double-headed snake,
Only resignation for your sake;
But most of us keep out of sight
To sidestep his poisonous bite,
And you might have done the same but . . .
You’re left alone to hear his seething tone!
So, how can we raise a paean to this saurian
Without playing the part of the tragedienne?
Our only urge is to intone your funeral dirge!

Snakes Slithering Thru Green Grass

After preening himself, he keenly eyed the woman
With mean intentions as he crawled up the tree . . .
Ah! And people do talk about the oldest profession
In the world in their obsession with lurid images
Without considering the slithering professional,
Who made the first case, then tried to fade away
With his notable gain and the stain he left behind,
Except he was constrained by the eternal Judge
In that first garden-turned-courtroom . . . Oh no!
What is oft-thought the oldest profession is close,
But the nuisance of jurisprudence is the eldest,
And the professional, very much like a prostitute,
We call an attorney! And what an awful journey
Have they made down throughout history while
Slithering boldly through fields of gold and silver!
Like the Serpent with Adam and Eve, they deceive
And receive an attractive sum
From their captive clients . . .
Oh, they are dutiful in painting a beautiful picture
Of bountiful prize, if you benignly sign your name,
And then the claim is sealed and the truth revealed:
Gain for the barrister, pain for the compliant victim,
But the obiter dictum is in the details of the papers,
And they have full right to whatsoever they claim
Without a fight and with no blame . . .
After all, you signed your full name!
Did God not condemn that first nefarious attorney
And his progeny to eat dirt in soil-covered shirts?
Ah, but it seems the dust they suck must be gold,
And the green, green grass grows ass-high for them,
These slithering, profit-making snakes,
Who make their life by fake and fraud!
Ah! Attorneys!