Best Crayfish Poems
There's a river winding gently through the pastures on the flats,
collecting tributaries of little creeks that the lower ground attracts.
'Tis the river that the angler seeks - the stream where pools run deep and slow.
I net the crayfish just for fun and there I let them go.
Categories:
crayfish, fishing, nature,
Form:
Verse
Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
a hundred days like this
a sea of endless laughs rolling
like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic
Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!
Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
These sparrow serenaded mornings..
...morphing into something amphibious
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
splashing back to cool off in sandbars
coolers anchored in those cool waters
taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken
Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...
The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
squaks are replaced with crickets chirps
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!
Categories:
crayfish, nostalgia
Form:
Free verse
Tiny wavelets on the pool today, a gentle
breeze and raindrops fall with a rhythmic
pitter patter. The ducks and wildfowl pay
no heed, around the sedge bob and feed.
The Heron standing as if frozen, his
cunning eye a prey has chosen. And the
elegant Swan glides, the Cormorant
beneath the water slides. And the grey
clouds float on by on this quiet day at the
pool, the reeds sway and insects hide away,
dry wings are required to survive. The Otter
on its back dines on an unlucky Crayfish,
seems well at ease with his surrounds, and
the Water Vole enters a hole to the squeak
of hungry mouths. In the centre of the pool
a love dance, two Crested Grebes court,
ducking, bobbing, all magic to the eye. All
this beauty in the pitter patter, life goes on
it does not matter. Nature gives in many
ways, and as always this heart enslaves.
Categories:
crayfish, naturewater, water,
Form:
Imagism
For many years, the creek, ran passed as a drain,
Polluted and unloved; a poisoned murky vein.
A favoured dumping place, for household unwanted things -
out of sight, out of mind; and no good what it brings.
Life was almost non-existent in the creek
and weed infestation makes it sad and bleak,
but turning a blind eye has gone too long,
and allowing this pollution was so wrong.
So, ‘friends of wattle creek’ were duly formed
and at meetings their ideas quickly warmed,
with working bees to help remove the mess,
and from there, reclamation could progress.
Weeds became victims, of mattock and the hoe;
there’s room for native vegetation to regrow.
Five hundred seedlings were there every week,
and planted by the ‘friends of wattle creek.’
Through the years, there were many setbacks,
from mother nature and her natural attacks,
with flood and storms or sometimes howling gales –
and thankfully, it was just the weak that fails.
With the foliage and the flowers an attraction
for lorikeet and honeyeater squabbling action;
weebills and pardalotes, were giving lots of cheek,
to warm the hearts of ‘friends of wattle creek.’
Undergrowth is cover for the wary bandicoot,
and the sugar glider dines on native fruit.
In the shallows of the creek; water is now clean;
once again, a spiny crayfish can be seen.
In a few short years, the volunteers with vision,
turned away an eyesore, with a right decision,
now it’s paradise restored from something bleak,
and all thanks goes to the ‘friends of wattle creek.’
The health of wattle creek is quite amazing,
and ‘friends of wattle creek’ deserve the praising.
Native fish are thriving; bird numbers are on track;
it warms the heart to know – the platypus is back.
For many years, the creek, ran passed as a drain,
Polluted and unloved; a poisoned murky vein,
but is now a thriving green belt, captivating all,
and the ‘friends of wattle creek’ are standing tall.
Categories:
crayfish, environment, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
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
Categories:
crayfish, adventure, boat, fishing,
Form:
Free verse
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
that’s a cog in the natural wheel
flowing longer than mans’…
time upon earth
and home for the blackfish and eel.
They say that the time of the crayfish
goes back to the dinosaurs’ day
and rocks that are fighting…
the endless flow
ever slowly, have eroded away.
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
fighting the log on a bend,
diverting through snags…
rippling on sand
finding it’s own way to wend.
Platypus live in a backwater swirl,
where flotsam is blending with foam
a track has been worn…
down from the bank
and leads to a water-rats home.
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
Well guarded by wattle and gum.
Sword grass and fern…
ti-tree and hazel
are providing a haven for some.
The parrot and fantail along with the bellbird
create many tunes in this vale.
Whistles and shrieks…
one syllable notes
or the currawongs’ melodic wail.
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
where I am a gourmet delight
for march fly and leech…
bush fly, mosquito
or the bull-ant’s unbearable bite.
There has been flood when the river runs wild,
and the land is totally drenched,
the litter from hills…
is wrapped around trees
with mountain silt weakly entrenched.
There’s a time-honoured stretch of a river
with a calming appeal for my mind,
Where I can sit…
where I contemplate.
It’s a place to completely unwind.
Nature has given me more than the peace
in the harmony it does deliver
here in the valley…
pristine, unspoiled,
on a time-honoured stretch of a river.
Categories:
crayfish, nature, river,
Form:
Everywhere she went her hair sparkled. It glistened in the morning sun, the noonday sun, and at dusk too. The waves in her auburn hair were her glory. The freckles on her cheeks even stood out as a unique mark of her beauty. Her pigtails messily put together as she grabbed her rain jacket and ran out the front door only to return at the end of the day.
All day she played exploring secret hiding places in the woods behind her home, and finding delight in the smallest things like crayfish and daddy-long leg spiders who became her childhood friends. Playing in the mud and rolling down the hill at the back of her property, she imagined it covered with snow in the middle of the summer. Being outdoors was her delight. To be called in at the end of the day was the greatest disappointment. An earth angel not a house dweller.
One day while she was playing, she heard the voice of God who had been playing beside her all day long. He gently spoke to her heart in a way that only she would know that it wasn’t her imagination. He said to her, “Come on! Let’s climb that gigantic apple tree!” Up she went exploring its branches. Spindly yet strong, she could handle the highest limbs. Up, up, and away to the highest spot. Next she found the most magnificent apple of all. A Granny Smith with not a single worm hole on its surface. She took the biggest bite and was so proud of her newest accomplishment.
After that warm afternoon she began to conquer the other trees in her yard. They all had different kinds of fruit and they all had different kinds of rewards. Nevertheless, she climbed and she climbed making every tree a mental mountain to overcome. As she mastered every tree in her yard, she began to look at other trees outside of her yard. Her appetite for adventure was limitless. Her appetite for adventure was given to her as a gift from her God. Soon she will travel to Mount Everest and conquer its surface. First she has to find the right climbing gear!
(This story is a true story of my early years with my Lord).
Gwendolen Rix
5-22-15
Psalm 127: 1-3
Categories:
crayfish, adventure, childhood, devotion, mountains,
Form:
Narrative
I remember the sail boat gliding
down the stream,over slippery
boulders and frothy cream.
The Kingfisher darting by, the
tangerine flash catching eye,
minnows hide, scattering fry
And ratty on the grass bank,
gnawing on a crayfish shank,
once he'd eaten the water drank
As Dippers bathed and the
Wagtail's played, in the safety
of the willows shade.
Jam butties covered in soil,
yesterdays bread curling up,
A bottle Tizer there to sup
Scratched knees and nettle rash,
Oiled legs from the bicycle chain,
The long walk home in pouring rain
Then mothers arms at the open door
A whack round the ear, asking what
for, your late, dinners on the plate.
A cheeky smile across this face
Categories:
crayfish, childhood
Form:
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”.
Categories:
crayfish, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Another New Year
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
2014 done and dusted
I’ve welcomed in 2015
With a beer and a crayfish
Round a campfire with some friends
…
New resolutions, not for me old mate
Cause I won’t keep what I promised
So I’ll just open up the gate… and
Let fate decide what’s in store for 2015
…
Like the man in the barbed wire canoe
Spearing tadpoles with a crow bar
You can bet my year won’t be great
But I’ll tough it out and see it through
…
I’ll do a bit of travel in me Ute and Van
Probably round Australia and free camp
When I can
Catch up with some mates along the way
Have a chin wag and a beer or two
…
I don’t really give a rat’s ****
What goes on in this world of turmoil
As long as they pay me pension
I’ll just live my life as free as a bird
…
But I will say this old mate
That’s it’s your family and friends
That will get you through the gate
Should a little trouble strike
…
So enjoy your life one and all
Leave your troubles behind the gate
Love your family, friends and mates
Be kind to your heart, it has only so many beats
…
WELCOME 2015
Categories:
crayfish, friend, new year, poetry,
Form:
Verse
In New Orleans, we
Make crabs, crayfish, gumbo, then
We'll all come bayou!
Categories:
crayfish, funny
Form:
Haiku
Boy Bitten By a Crayfish
When women seen with no powers to create
Vessel to feed male seed for generations
She could make images live and update
Both of procreation and creation.
Once drew a painting of a laughing girl
Sent to Michelangelo to review
Quickly returned the painting with a hurl
Draw on the subject of crying child anew.
She painted “Boy bitten by a crayfish”
Tear-eyed brother weeping over the cut
The sister trying much hard to appease
And make peace with great master’s guts.
This feat, noticed by artists of her time
Was placed with “Cleopatra” in prime.
==========================
Fifth place win
in Cindy's contest
** I was inspired to write this poem by her painting BOY BITTEN BY CRAYFISH, one of her earlier painting**
Categories:
crayfish, art, boy,
Form:
Sonnet
River Life
Between ancient rolling chalk hills the age old river flows
Where orange and blue cloaked Kingfisher over chalk stream feeds.
Water Voles hunt and the family of an Otter grows.
White petalled Water Crowfoot among fresh water reeds
And in clear running brooks the Trout, Crayfish and Grayling swim.
For the Contest 'River Line' by Rick Parise
14 syllables per line checked by 'howmanaysyllables.com'
18//11/16
Barry Stebbings
Categories:
crayfish, life, river,
Form:
Verse
I've just come to realize
Probably some of you don't know
How to speak the hillbilly language
So, I'll show you how to give it a go
We call them crayfish, crawdads
Cause they're not really a fish at all
A skunk we call a polecat
You better run and hope you don't fall
You say you all, we say ya'll
We just shortened it a bit
You say potato, we say tater
Are you startin to get the hang of it
We call a bag a paper sack
And sometimes it a poke
We say wanna hear a funny
But you say wanna hear a joke
Pretty close to you is pert near to us
And the devil is the booger man
Your bathroom is our outhouse
And a skillet is a frying pan
These are a few of the words we use
Almost everyday
I'll teach you more Hillbilly Language
The next time I pass your way
Categories:
crayfish, funny
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:
crayfish, nature, me,
Form:
Quatrain