Best Crawfish Poems
The wall would not hinder my fall,
the tumble i take for memory’s sake.
Childhood sees fairylands, vast —
but as small as a neighborhood lake.
The woods with its creek and crawfish,
an older kid pinching friend’s shirt, kicking
breathtakingly loud over the ground.
The girl ought not get her feet wet,
too sensitive and shy, not a tomboy.
We’d run back to the consoling wall,
with bunny paws, spring to our mamas’ ground,
never speak of tattletales…
after all, it was my friend’s fault
for perusing the big boys fort.
Categories:
crawfish, memory,
Form:
Verse
Tear the thin membrane.
Suck the juices from within.
Pinch the tail and eat.
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
Categories:
crawfish, food
Form:
Haiku
Here’s a little story bout Cajun santa
He lives in the swamp in Louisiana
You can be naughty or you can be nice
Cajun Santa will never think twice
He’s not like the santa from the cold North Pole
You will never get a stocking with a lump of coal
Cajun santa doesn’t say ho ho
He yells ha yee ha yeee and of they go
Makin homemade toys with Mrs. Clause
Wearin nuttin but a smile and his Christmas draws.
No fancy red suit for Cajun clause
He will bring dem toys in his over alls
He will load dem toys on his ol pero
No flyin reindeer just a white tail doe
Cajun santa doesn’t say ho ho
He yells out ha yee ha yeee and of they go
Now Cajun santa doesn’t have any elves
So you can save da milk and cookies all for yourselves
But you can make him happy before he’s got ta go
Just serve em up a bowl of hot Gumbo
He wont get in a hurry and he.s kinda slow
Member he’s a bringin dem toys with a white tail doe
Cajun santa doesn’t say ho ho
He yells out ha yee ha yeee and of they go
If Cajun santa wants to be seen
You can find him on bourbon in New Orleans
Throwin mardi gras beads from his ol pero
Bein pulled by a gator or his white tail doe
Now its summer time for Santa and if he gets his Christmas wish
At least once a day he will eat Crawfish
Cajun santa doesn’t say ho ho
He screams into the night go Saints go
Categories:
crawfish, christmas, family, funny, hilarious,
Form:
Rhyme
Snow,
never Heard of that
I all hear About
is that Louisiana rain
oh Louisiana
u know
that state
with an event called mardi gras all year round
and we just live in the swamp
yeah
it’s that state
the withholder of fluxuating humidity
never known from peeps from the other states
he he he
its extremely unique
its all untold by that Louisiana rain
you really have no idea what it’s like
how upsetting
how disappointing
come live it through my eyes
no I don’t live in New Orleans
that’s not the only place
in Louisiana
though it’s a common mistake
but if I don’t live in
new Orleans
I must be a swamp
Rug rat
With an undefined education
Wrong
Totally wrong
Im the girl that knows about that Louisiana rain
I have an accent
That has a drawl
Though This place its
Almost as south as it gets
Just
Don’t include
Florida in the mixing pot
We are also the only
State with a parish instead of a county
Aren’t you intrigued?
Don’t forget the home of gumbo
Rue and our famous jambalaya
Also Lets not forget crawfish cause that’s just the best
we also live in a boot hard to forget
though Our Louisiana rain
just never told you
Shhh it’s a secret
Its called Louisiana
the Louisiana rain
Categories:
crawfish, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
The South is best known for their Southern cooking, including some collard greens. All
Southern foods have been around since Abe Lincoln ended slavery for good and when
African-Americans have earned the right to vote. What's so great about southern cooking is
that everybody's eating a home-cooked meal, just like their moms used to make. There's lot
of Southern foods we all love: there's fried and barbecue chicken, some collard greens,
mac and cheese, candied yams, some corn bread, the works. When everybody's eating the food
from the South, it's like eating at a Southern buffet restaurant in Mobile, Alabama, on a
Sunday afternoon, and upon leaving church. And along with their food, they've got some
homemade lemonade, sweet iced tea, and other Southern drinks. Their food is going to wish
that these people would stay in the South for a long, long time. Come to think of it,
Southern cooking is as good as soul food that is made in the city of Atlanta, Georgia,
especially when they're eating some chicken and waffles, some chicken fried steak, and
shrimp and grits. Now how delicious is that? And everyone will be talking about the food
they've eaten and recommend their favorite Southern restaurants to their friends and
family members, even on holiday. Boy, are we going to have a Southern fest with our
favorite foods from the South, including some crawfish, some barbecue ribs, hot water corn
bread, every piece of food everyone can think of. And after this Southern fest is done at
the end of the day, we'll be wanting some more of that Southern cooking.
Categories:
crawfish, food, on writing and
Form:
Epic
I doff my fedora to the feller who invented pertater chips!
That genius developed the ideal thingy in which to immerse our dips!
How could we survive sans our weekly fix of Dominoes pizza pie,
Or a half-dozen Dunkin Donuts consumed on the sly?
Ain't nothin' as finger lickin' good as Kentucky Fried, original of course,
Or a Wendy's triple bacon 'burger when you're as famished as a horse!
Ah! The myriad of Mexican fixin's offered by the local Taco Bell!
Chimichangas, burritos, tacos, tostadas and enchiladas as well!
Japanese and Chinese establishments offer mysterious and fancy fare.
Try sushi, octopus, crawfish or deep fried squid if you dare!
If you crave ice cream, cookies or a hunk of cake or such cuisine,
Hie yourself on down the street to the nearest Dairy Queen!
For the hotdog aficionado there are weenie varieties galore;
Foot longs, chilidogs, smothered in sauerkraut and so many more!
Want some scrumptious and satisfying grub that'll fill your belly?
Get a ham on rye, thick salami or a Rueben at the neighborhood deli!
At Dad's BBQ you can order any kind of barbeque with greasy fries.
To top off the pancakes at The Village Inn you can buy chocolate pies!
Doctors and nutritionists would cringe at such a diet of course.
Fiddle faddle! I'll keep on eatin' that stuff with absolutely no remorese!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
crawfish, food
Form:
Rhyme
I loved those trees,
limbs draped in plump wild grapes,
bursting with flavor on my tongue,
while juice stained my fingers.
Tall cottonwoods shadowed
the creek where we splashed—Sis,
brother, and I—and a giant sycamore
shaded Granddad's spring. We slaked
our thirst from the granite dipper
hung on a nail he'd hammered
into its trunk at kid level.
We watched water belch like corn,
rattling a popper lid, and ripple
over rocks in the streambed,
where minnows and crawfish
hid from prying fingers.
Hawk-eyed, we scouted
gnarled branches in the orchard
for ripening fruit, luscious and tangy,
spurting juice to drip off elbows.
Hazelnut bushes flourished
by the back fence; black walnut trees
shaded Grandmother's back porch.
Our uncles helped burst crack-jaw shells
with hand-held rocks on the stone slabs
stretching toward the gate.
I do not envy the children
whose play-field offers brick and concrete,
severe and naked, whose only fruit
blows down alleys and into streets,
as the refuse of city dwelling.
Categories:
crawfish, adventure, appreciation, family, tree,
Form:
Free verse
Old New Orleans
Written By: D. Collins 10/21/14
Back in old New Orleans long, before Katrina came.
The Wild Tchopitoulas were the neighborhood gang.
They’d come with their own personal band.
Waking everybody up before 6am.
The old New Orleans is what I remember well.
Before the levies blew, and people lived through hell.
Wherever you went, N’awlins was in the air.
It’s passion, it’s people, and it’s flare.
Being happy was the mission every day.
We replenished that with Crawfish Etouffee.
Back when the elders commanded mucho respect.
That’s the old New Orleans I will never forget.
Categories:
crawfish, appreciation, city,
Form:
Couplet
Fishy smelling meat
Hot tangy juices dripping
A pinch of the tail
By Robb A. Kopp
Categories:
crawfish, food
Form:
Haiku
Just North of South Carolina
Is where this country boy was born
All I really cared in those growing years
Was the running through woods kind of fun
Those days I fondly remember
There's no way you can bad mouth the South
With water up to our knees chasing crawfish in creeks
And anything else nature would allow
Even squirrel hunting as younguns
So my Granny could make us a pie
No secret better kept than eating straight off the land
Whether it was squirrels or apples to find
Granny always made delicious pies
Always in church every Sunday
Paying the Lord his due respects
For all that we have and all that he gives
Plus for the forgiveness of sins
Then after church when there weren't no chores
We'd kiss and tell our parents goodbye
They'd not see us again till we heard the bell ring
Come about supper time
There's something that's to be said about being a kid
Growing up down in the South
Where there's no better time below the Mason Dixon line
But that you'd have to find out for yourself
Categories:
crawfish, childhood, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Give me my dumboy
The Bassa way
Let me swallow it like the fish of Jonah
Country soup with dried fish and monkey meat
Fresh crawfish and cold water fish from the St. John’s River
Dumboy- pounded cassava
Whiten and soften
Lying in a bowl smiling and watering
I guess saying eat me now, eat me now
But not yet, where is the dodoo?
The crown that sits on it
A mixture of bitter boy, hot pepper, potato grains, benny seed and season cubes
Mashed gently in the bowl to get the real taste of the Bassa Dish
That is considered the medicine for the dumboy
So they say the ‘dumboy not sweet but the dodoo’
As you pour the hot clear country soup into the bowl
The dodoo turns it brownish and tasty
Give me my dumboy ooh
The Bassa way-yah
Let me eat and drink my cold Club Beer
Categories:
crawfish, africa, appreciation, food,
Form:
Free verse
Wading in a branch
trickling slowly along to the ocean.
Smell of decaying leaves and honeysuckle in the air.
Tadpoles, crawfish swimming by toes in Swift creek.
River otter curiously watching
the boys playing, splashing in the water
on a hot August day.
Bream jumping, splashing
Trying to remove the land creatures
From their watery domain.
Categories:
crawfish, family, happiness
Form:
Narrative
A Good Deed Gone Bad
Of many jobs my hubby had
along with one full-time,
was pallbearer for funerals
whenever it worked fine.
One day there was a huge request
from owner of the place.
A man who died was cremated;
no next of kin to trace.
However, 'twas his dying wish
to scatter ashes wide
in local river close to home
and begged that they abide.
And so my hubby volunteered
to honor his last wish.
And to our home, he brought the urn
with Mr. James Crawfish.
Now it was winter when he passed,
the river froze with ice.
So in our den lay James Crawfish
'till weather became nice.
Then one spring day a friend we knew
took hubby with the urn
on his speed boat to ashes cast
with serious concern.
And as he did, a tail wind whipped
and ashes covered all!
His wife would never ride with him
again after that squall.
Sandra M. Haight
~9th Place~
Contest: Pink Domino
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Judged: 07/29/2016
True story except the name of deceased was changed.
Rules: Humor. Up to 7 stanzas (28 lines) with rhyme on line 2 and line 4 of each stanza plus use 8 syllables, 6 syllables, 8 syllables, 6 syllables.
Categories:
crawfish, boat, death, dedication, humor,
Form:
Quatrain
Gumbo
When the cold wind blows in the evenings;
And the black snake can't be found.
When the rain falls on the pine trees;
And there's frost upon the ground.
When the rooster sets a'stewing;
And there's crawfish in the pot.
When Momma's busy stirring;
Can you guess just what we've got?
Dark and rich and tasty;
It smells so awful nice.
On the back of the stove there's waiting;
A pot of long grain rice.
When the sky turns grey and cloudy,
And school kids hope for snow.
Momma checks her spices;
She's gonna cook a big Gumbo.
Onions, leeks and celery;
And a bit of chicken fat.
Seafood, game and sausage,
But the Roux is where it's at.
Warm, dark, awesome gravy;
A gift from God above,
It carries precious memories;
Made with a Mother's love.
Time flows on like a river;
But this we can conclude.
For bringing us together,
There is nothing quite like food.
Categories:
crawfish, assonance, children, emotions, family,
Form:
Rhyme
Lived in Tyler when I was ten
And not too far from my home
Was a creek in an open field
I often played there alone
The creek was very low one day
There was a funny mud mound
It made me wonder, what built it?
It was a Crawdad I found
Crawdads are miniature lobsters
They are known by many names
Crayfish, Crawfish, Crawdads, Mud Bugs
These creatures are all the same
I asked my Dad when I got home
“How do you catch a Crawdad”?
“Just tie some bacon on a string
And drop it in the creek bed”
In the morning, I couldn’t wait
Go Crawdad fishing, what fun!
Mom gave me a strip of bacon
Got string and left at a run
Found a deep spot, I threw it in
Then I sat down on the bank
Holding the string, I felt a tug
I pulled it out with a yank
That's not the way to fish for them
When jerked they always let go
If you want to land a crawdad
You must pull them out real slow
I got pinched by one now and then
I caught a pail full that day
Not knowing you can eat Crawdads
I let them all crawl away
Categories:
crawfish, nature, me,
Form:
Quatrain