Best Cray Poems
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
there are seven birds that I often get to see
as I walk on the tracks in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
A Whipbird crack through ti-tree scrub,
a Lyrebird echo from Cascade Creek,
Red Browed Finch on the sword grass heads,
I’m watching close a Ground Thrush sneak.
Black Cockies feed on Blackwood wattle,
in heath Blue Wrens are a family,
Yellow Robins perch on a paperbark trunk
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
are seven mammals sometimes I get to see,
as I walk on the tracks in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
Echidnas forage in wood or litter
Wallabies graze on grass and weeds,
a burrowing wombat sleeps all day;
high in a manna gum, a Koala feeds.
Sugar Gliders doze in a hollow log,
like Ring-tail Possums in a high ti-tree.
A Bandicoot scarps through the undergrowth
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
in Cascade Creek sometimes I get to see,
as I look at the water in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
Flowing over sand, fishbone fern as cover,
lurk Blackfish and the Gippsland Cray.
Brown trout forage in the hiding place
where Mountain Galaxias are their prey.
In Cascade Creek; well the Platypus play,
in long deep holes, but are rare to see.
There’s Short Finned Eel, Yabbies and Shrimp,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
are a few reptiles I sometimes get to see,
if I look down at my feet in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
There are Blue Tongue Lizards and Three Lined Skinks;
Goanna’s up a tree and the Tiger Snake.
There’s Copperheads or Red-bellied Black,
and treading on snakes is a big mistake.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
Growling Grass Frogs watch from water grass,
And the ‘pobblebonk’ croak is an Eastern Banjo,
in a swampy pool as I walk on past.
Skippers float over the canopy blooms;
Mosquito, March Fly, Bush Fly blight;
Jezebel Caterpillars feed on mistletoe;
Stag Beetles hover in the fading light.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
on walking tracks there is much to see,
where I’m just a link that don’t belong,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
My curfew according to my mom is, “before the sun goes down!”
She never gives me the time to meet with friends and hang around
My dad on the other hand lectures me in Korean
He still doesn’t realize that I literally cannot understand him
He might as well be talking in Japanese and his english is ‘berry weak’
These are the reasons why we don’t really speak
Dinner’s always the same, no taco Tuesday or leftover Monday involved
Every meal is eaten with rice- but one time we had mashed pot- just kidding that’s never happened at all
Brown rice, white rice, skinny rice, fat rice, guess we got some variety there
Mom says, “Be grateful, there are starving children everywhere”
Come to think of it, a family meal at McDonald’s is something we’ve never had
Guess that means all my meals are very sad
Neither parent wants to give me the independence that I need
But I won’t complain for I’m afraid mother will hit me
Like a bird I want to explore the world
But my strict Korean parents clipped my wings- they might be disturbed
So I spend my time visualizing the world through the T.V.
Never had cable cause cable’s ‘not pree’
Netflix is what I got, a blessing I love having
Bob’s Burgers, Parks & Rec, and The Office keep me laughing
My mom finds it annoying, my dad doesn’t get the puns
He’s always asking me how people sitting in an office can make me laugh so much
On another note, high school parties, are wild and pretty cray
I wouldn’t know, I’ve never gotten an invite, but my parents would never let me go anyways
I check the snapchats of my friends, they’re out bowling at 1:35 am
If it weren’t for my parents, then I would be out with them
No matter what I do, my parents just can’t see
That they’re Kim Jong Un and I’m a helpless North Korean trying to break free
Where twilight kisses the breeze
carpets of lavender blue
sweet scent of the honeydew
village of cray grew.
Meadows fan the fragrant breeze
dry stones walls in lanes appease
purple haze hugs the skyline
upon nabwood hill.
Guardian of cuckoo’s nest
here nature’s face has no grace
on highway of windswept flocks
beneath rolling clouds.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Hey, Cray-cray Bobby May, don't hide away; come out and play!
Jan. 8. 2021 for Bobby MAY'S Tease A Friend Poetry Contest
I want sombody that can see what im doing here.
From every word that goes to your eye then your ear.
What does he mean some sometimes subliminly say.
Not that it doesnt go out and over the other ear anyway.
Hey!
Your reading this right?
Do you get the message of my meaning?
Isnt it tight?
Sometimes i feel cray like right about now.
I should say somthing crazy but phrase it how?
So the other day i met Captain Crunch's Cornol.
But his cearial looks like chicken.
Chickens!
They have a mean life.
It goes like this.
Bread is fed
to the chicken that was later found dead.
They cut off his head, out came a whole lotta red.
The farmers family needed fed, but the farmer didnt have the bread.
Get it?
Enough said.
Eh, Bebe ...
clueless you with the wide eyes open,
which can’t see
So apoplectic of heart,
paralyzed by the cobra sway
of changeling channel charmer words
Gen Z baby gloomer
remote diaphragm controlled,
go back to analog sleep
Oh oh ... video comatose —
Nightmares begat by daydreams
of reel digital silver screams
Lost Vegas patch-eye vision
of one arm pulled down
And the coins keep trickling
into your open palms
Baby Bebe gon umbilical vault cray cray
Cut the cord of the eyelid dark violet curtains ...
bling-bling blind birth
shut the womb of twin retinal glow dearth
So aorta slow,
slug cranial coma critical ...
lobotomy comatose
Virtual voices say:
eh, Bebe —
Pull the plug ... let the dying vapors go,
expired from a necrotic nasal
"A Christmas Wish for Santa"
O Santa! it's been very hard to be good all year
and Christmas Eve is nearing for presents 'neath green tree
listening for the sound of your sleigh and eight tiny reindeer
am hoping for a special choice of boxes just for me.
O Santa! I've been helping Mommy round the house
even kept my own room sparkly bright
after saying my prayers I am as quiet as a mouse
am so excited to leave some milk and cookies for tonight.
O Santa! I wrote a list of things I want to play
I hope your sleigh can carry everything
dolls and dishes and games and cray ---ons
also an Angel with golden wings.
O Santa! I remember there are children on the Earth
who never got a toy or a hug or kiss
Mommy says a lady has the right to change her mind from birth
Daddy reminds me never to ever be selfish.
O Santa! if I had a Christmas wish for you
I'd package hugs and kisses laced with lots of love
so Christmas Eve as you travel please sprinkle them won't you?
like snowflakes falling from heavenly stars above.
O Santa! I am so happy knowing I can share
some gifts so free and simple to bring smiles and joy
a truly "Merry Christmas" and "Happy New Year" shows care
and love is the 'bestest' gift for every girl and boy.
O Santa! I will pray that you have a safe trip
and merryment will ring throughout the Globe
hope you enjoy your cookies as on chocolate milk you sip
to celebrate the Greatest Story Ever Told.
*For Michael J. Falotico's Christmas Wish in a Poem.
Dear Lil sister. .
Hey pretty girl how you doing these days. How's life treating ya, hope it
hasn't been to cray. I noticed you were down, well how bout u talk to me. I
just wanna uplift ya, see you become who you were born to be. I know your
life has been crazy, Lord knows it to. But all those trials and tribulations
they won't break you. I know you hate that man from your past for touching
you the wrong way, you never told no one n it bothers you to dis day. It
created a dark cloud that covered your heart, now you have trust issues
can't tell the enemies apart. Night after night you pray to God for a fresh
start. Low self esteem, but baby your a work of art. Yeah i know you was
sad growing up without a father. As the years go by life seems to get harder.
I know you wanted that affection, the love you deserve as a daughter. Moma
tried her best but some things sh couldn't have taught ya. I know you wish he
told you, how beautiful you are over n over again. How all of your power
cums from deep within. Those weren't the cards you were dealt so you seek
refuge in other men. Trying to fill that void that has always been missing.
Now your in a situation and too scared to leave cause you think to yourself
nobody will ever love me for me. Countiuosly talking to yourself, and crying
secretly. But baby girl that's a lie I say differently. Your a daughter of a king,
so that makes you a princess. Your father hates to see you cry, that's why he
wants to give you his best. You are heirs of royalty don't u ever forget it. You
ARE victorious let me hear you admit it. Please baby girl don't be another
statistic this world wants to see down, so handle your business. Never follow
the crowd honey be independent. Cause when those checks come in, they'll
have a lot of digits. Always remember to remind yourself how beautiful you
are.I don’t care if your tall, short, white, black or covered in scars. Being
beautiful starts from the heart, so love yourself first. And always know that
the best comes after the worst. Hang in there hun, I know life's a twister. But
you can always count on me. Sincerely your big sister.
A GUMMY FISHERMAN
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
The sheltered bay disguised what was to come
Around the headland we hit it head on
Four to five meter waves and breaking on top
And a wind that was building making lots of spray
A man takes many risks for a crayfish on his plate
For the pots needed to be pulled from the deep reef
Then baited with a fresh lot of stinking fish bait
Hoping to lure the wily crayfish into the pot
With the sea boiling the boat cut through the waves
Sending water and spray every which way
The fisherman holding on to keep their feet on deck
As the motors strain to keep a forward motion
The fishermen search for the buoys in the white water
As the rolling sea tosses them about like a cork in a bottle
The buoys know sighted make ready to haul the pots up
Hoping that they contain a few crayfish for their effort
There is no color in the first three pots, they are baited
Then tossed back into the rough and deep water
The last pot pulled and on the deck contains one small cray
Not a keeper, what a bummer, throw him back to grow bigger
With head down low kneeling on the deck
The rotten bait smells so ghastly get up my nose
Dry reaching, pale and feeling quite sick
I heave it up and let it flow over the side
Boy oh boy did I let the sickness flow
Breakfast, dinner and tea all in one go
I heaved it up my false teeth went with it
Over the side and into the boiling sea
Feeling miserable and quite ill, we headed back
To the bay and much calmer water
I thought about my teeth now in the water
Maybe a Gummy shark ate them up?
So now I fish the bay with a toothless mouth
And I target the Gummy Shark, hoping in vain
That one day whilst fishing, I will be lucky
And catch the Gummy that has a toothy smile
Must our eyes even when we blind see
I closed my eyes but Zipporah D ‘Ead was aborting the Evil
Zipporah says Kevin Daddy closed her eyes not to see
And that mother sees but to her it’s no Evil
Remember my daughter all we have is nothing you have to see
Until it’s too late we must see no Evil
Must our ears even when we deaf Hear
I closed my ears but Mama Zipporah was screaming like she saw something Evil
Kevin Daddy says she is stupid she want supposed to hear
And that Zipporah my sister died of nature not Evil
Zipporah my saint pray for mother I need you to Hear
And don’t forget she did her best but too late she is not evil
Remember in this our world money buys ears they all can’t Hear
Until it’s too late we must hear no evil
Must our mouths even when we Dumb Speak
And closed his mouth but Kevin Daddy drunk in his straitjacket must be something Evil
Zipporah and her mother he says to him they speak
Another one they say cray like the world it’s Evil
Remember the voices in our heads shouldn’t Speak
Until it’s too late we must speak no Evil
CHECK VID ON https://youtu.be/uV3uoIK0C0Y
When I get tired of the concrete and tar
there’s a place I can go, and not travel far,
that hasn’t been touched by progress at all;
nature stands still beneath gums growing tall.
And in amongst shadows with sprinkled light,
there’s rippling water and birds taking flight,
a sprinkling of colour amongst shades of green,
there’s burrows and scratching where something has been.
So I give you a picture of Billycan Creek
where flora and fauna are all quite unique,
and nothing is spoilt where I sit on a log
with my video camera and terrier dog.
A single stem orchid stands better than stark
with a deep purple flower that closes at dark,
and a coprosma tree with red berries quite sweet
is a pleasure to find with its bounty a treat.
In mistletoe weeping from a host in disguise
I video drifting jezebel butterflies,
and sitellas who cling to an old stringybark,
then high on a limb…the nest of a mudlark.
So I give you a picture of Billycan Creek
where flora and fauna are all quite unique,
and my camera is ready, with eyes like a hawk
where now with my dog on a casual walk.
Here the undulate water it constantly flows,
diverting ‘round logs and where overhang grows,
a haven’s provided for what could be prey
and in the shallows there’s a freshwater cray.
Some red brow firetails flit down for a drink,
there’s a burrow that’s new with no reason to think,
for a wombat has scratched out a hole and a mound;
but a wombat’s nocturnal who lives underground.
So I give you a picture of Billycan Creek
where flora and fauna are all quite unique,
and I’ve only a second to capture a scene,
so my camera is ready to help me convene.
The scent of boronia hangs heavy and strong,
lances of grass trees are a seed clustered prong,
white ants have covered an old stump with mud,
and Christmas bush bracts are now starting to bud.
On a hazel bush branch a grey fantail sits prone
in a nest made of cobwebs, to a tapering cone,
and a chattering chough tells me that I don’t belong,
now my camera has died so I can’t say it’s wrong…
So my battery is flat and I’m back at the log
with a film full of nature, and my terrier dog,
and you’ve read my picture of Billycan Creek
where flora and fauna are all quite unique.
©2011 Lindsay Laurie
Everyone, a bit bipolar be;
It is the nature of our planet.
If you do not with this fact agree,
Just go upon the Web and scan it.
The strange duality of humans –
As all the shrink-ologists well know –
Can make of us a bunch of Truman’s –
Each our own comedy-drama show.
If it sometimes seems a bit too cray,
Worry not – thank the stars above you.
Never feel that you have lost your way;
Friends, family, dog, will always love you.
I was driving down Webb road, with the thoughts I’ve had all week,
And that is upon the crayfish that I net in Shady Creek,
Webb road is not a long one, but it’s narrow and it winds,
And scrub that’s clinging to the edge is thick and often blinds.
That’s why I guess a cat is squashed upon the edging of the road,
Because pedestrians don’t stand a chance with cars in travelling mode
Where they fly around the corners at a speed that’s way too fast,
But who cares about a flattened cat when they are driving past.
When I parked me car beside the bridge, with the Shady flowing under,
I thought about the lifeless cat, and how I could have made a blunder,
The bait I have is mainly bone, with bits of meat to lure me prey,
When knowing that the meat of cats, is loved better by a cray.
I laid me nets out on the grass, while in me mind there is debate,
Should I use the bones or take a drive, and grab the better bait.
It will take a short ten minutes; therefore the cat will bear the load,
So I’m changing gears back in me car, when driving down Webb road.
With the cat upon me mind, and driving past a farmers home,
The last thing that I expected was a rooster on the roam,
I felt the bird go underneath, and through my mirror at the rear,
All I could see was flying feathers and the Rooster on its ear.
That buggered up me day alright, I’m fishing on this farmer’s place,
He’ll probably mention ‘shot gun’ when I tell him face to face,
So apprehensively I tapped his door and when he stood in front of me,
I said “I’ve got news you will not like. Your rooster’s a fatality”.
He stared at me with misty eyes; I thought he found it hard to face it,
So I shrugged me shoulders and I said, “Look, allow me to replace it”.
I was nervous waiting his response, and then he threw me right off track…
When he shrugged and answered, “Suit yourself. The chooks are ‘round the back”.
Well it doesn't really matter, if you have riches or you’re poor,
When you get that bellyache, you know you’ll be heading for,
That little house way down the back, where the comforts made for you,
So you can sit and read the paper, when there’s a job to do.
It doesn't really matter, if you eat ‘cray’ or caviar,
Or if you’ve downed a pie with chips; they travel just as far.
After your belly has been filled, then you must get rid of it,
And that's when the likes of me and 'Rusty', do our little bit.
You see we are night workers on a truck that pulls a tray,
The job we’re being paid to do, is to take your waste away.
So while you're sleeping soundly, to your 'little house' we go,
Come every week on Friday, to prevent an overflow.
Most roads in our little town are channelled, tarred and curbed,
So the drive is smooth and even and no spillage's occurred.
There was one road though unsealed, it is pot holed, windy, rough,
With two houses at the dead end, where two pans were quite enough.
One rainy morning we decided on, the easy first that day,
That left us two spots yet to fill, that would complete our tray,
And the rain had stopped so ‘Rusty’, before finishing our load,
Hung his coat outside the cabin, prior to the unsealed road.
Leaning here and lurching there, 'Rusty', turned ‘round and looked behind,
Letting out a gasp of horror, so I asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“My coat” he said “It’s in a can, pull up the truck, quick stop it!”
Rusty didn’t care about his coat, but his lunch is in the pocket.
A Day by the River
Sailing the high sea on the river,
Sinking while staying afloat,
Think I’m in danger of drowning,
Where would I find me a boat?
Nice here down by the river,
Floods caused the bed to dry up.
Eat Treacle & Anchovy sandwich,
Drink tea, from a broken egg cup.
Urchins who live near the river,
Fish for Sea Bass, using a kettle.
They may have caught a young Cray,
To bake it with seaweed and nettle.
Fairies with wings by the river,
Nibble mushroom with Ginger beer.
This is not typical fairy behavior,
High spirited, they wish me good cheer.
Skim pebbles across the dry river,
Seagulls fire shots to my nose.
Call a Mute Swan, but get no answer,
Damn duck, pecked off my clothes.
Very dark now, here by the river,
The sunshine is hot, beating down.
I’m walking right into the water,
An inconvenient way back to town.
Time’s come, to leave here the river,
Attacked by a shark on the shore.
It came for the barbecue party,
But prefer my leg that it tore.
When I wake up, I’m not by the river,
My pyjamas are soaked toe to head.
It transpires, I’m not by the river,
But dreaming, and just wet the bed.