Best Shrimps Poems
The sun is getting hotter now,
And snow begins to thaw.
A trickle of water runs down.
Soon, it finds its usual track.
One may call it a stream,
But soon, it swells and starts to tumble
Over the rocks, carving its landscape
Only to join other streams downhill.
It swells into a tumbling river,
Divide into parts, run to a water mill,
With a force to grind the wheat.
The other pours into flatlands,
Where occasionally small lakes form
And living nutrients abound.
Survival depends on strength.
Snails, water fleas and shrimps
Become the food of predators.
Roaches, pikes and other fish
Make heyday of their food.
But they are not the rulers of the river.
Let man find such lakes and ponds.
A large fishing rod and tasty bait
An attraction for the various fish.
Men make a lovely lunch with their catch.
Visits long ago
to the Blaskets Islands,
to untouched areas
on the Dingle peninsula
came to mind
on this sleet winter’s eve.
The peninsula,
nestled in heather mountains.
The coastline,
tongues of lonely white sand.
waved rocks,
drenched in blue mussels
tide pools,
alive with shrimps and periwinkles
A sea-salted life
unspoiled and free.
Only marine life remains,
but I still hear the music
our native language,
the voices of Seanchaí
the ballads, sean?s,
Peig Sayers
who shaped our school years,
her renditions of island life
her mad pise?gs,
handed down
from generation to generation.
Stories of
Islanders huddled together
under thatch,
open turf fires
cooking pot on a hook,
the sweet air wafting
of clay pipe tobacco
a pinch of snuff
sniffed from a silver box,
nursing a glass
of neat Poitín, uisce beatha,
the strong smell of tweeds
and geansaí báinín.
I think of times lost,
changed forever.
Cottage ruins,
where goats roam free,
An Blascaod Mór
my history, my heritage.
Gaelic words in this poem
* Seanchaí – storytellers
Sean?s – singing without music
Peig Sayers and her mad pise?gs – A Gaelic writer who we studied in school and her mad superstitions.
Poitín, uisce beatha – very strong alcohol made from potatoes, called the water of life.
geansaí báinín – strong sheep wool sweaters usually in a cream colour with complex patterns.
Flesh on show and sun tan lotion
bodies laid on towels or sun lounges
By the ocean
Salty air wind blown hair
Music streaming from the near by fair
Baby screaming nappies full
Cool guys looking for babes on the pull
Sun shades and floppy hats
Grown men playing cricket with ball and bats
Sand castles and buckets and spades
Candy floss and lemonade
Father With binoculars pretending to look out to sea
Or read a newspaper but really looking at the bathing beauties
Bikinis and manknies G strings tight where the sun don't shine
Hot dogs and hamburgers the popping of corks from bottles of wine
Hairy legs and wrinkled skin
child almost drowning couldn't swim
Muscle bound Life guards with muscles to impress
Granma lost her false teeth
Dropped between her breasts
Ice creams and summer dreams
Young child peeing in the sea
Among the swimmers splashing about with glee
People playing beach ball and football
Mother calls come on all it's time for tea
Large Busty woman running like jelly on a plate
Wobble wobble
And nearly starting an earthquake
Sand between your toes
Sun burn on your nose
Sweaty arm pits sweaty bums
Toffee apples and bleeding gums
Sea gulls flying screeching high above
Clear blue sky pure white dove
Watching the frothy waves stretch upon the shore
Watching the horizon and tiny boats 10 miles away or more
Dogs running here and there
Sweets being passed around to share
Crabs and shrimps and other critters in a rocky pool
Children with fishing nets and jars to take them back to school
Para gliders pulled by speed boats high in the sky
Oh why do people want to risk life
As they could die
Postcards to write people on there bikes
The smell of fish and chips
Children with jam around their lips
Couples walking hand in hand barefoot on warm sand
Treasured memories and photo's to cherish
Suitcases packed feeling unwound and relaxed
Can't wait until next year when they come back.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. July.
Pick & Mix
Oh Frank. W. Woolworths what have you done,
You have taken away all of the fun.
Buying the traditional Pick & Mix,
Was a yearly ritual like the turkey and stuffing mix,
Trying to cram as many as you could
Into the large cardboard tub.
Trying to be canny
and fill every nook and cranny,
Toffees, chocs, jellies, dolly mixtures, shrimps & white mice,
They all tasted really nice.
It only cost £2 99 for the lot
It was up to you how many you got,
Now it is to be no more
Having asked at several of your stores.
Gone now is the tub you could fill with as many as you like.
It’s A bag and weigh & pay, and on your bike.
Oh Frank. W. Woolworths what have you done,
You have taken away all of the fun.
Words
Dubai
Lumps of concrete
Set in sand
If you want to study
Marine biology
Don’t start with a tin of sardines
Capital punishment
Since we all are going to die
It is not a penalty
Shrimps are
Insects of the oceans
Why not we eat butterflies
If all life is related
Having the same origin
Aren’t we cannibals
Are surgeons
Red meat fanciers
Or vegetarians
Baby red potatoes peeled
Fresh corn from the field
With pink shallots in the pot
Sausages add zing
Then the shrimps go in
Seasoning
Yum
14/07/2011
For Sara’s “Country Boil” contest
Diddely, dappened doo –
birdies, black and blue!
Hiddely, happily hare,
gorilla’s, gophers glare!
Frappelly, frippin foo,
larks, and leopards loo.
Giddily, gaddelly, goo –
grasshoppers, gnat’s gnu’s!
Trippaley, trickelly tee –
birdies, bears and bees.
Biddilly, bradilly, boo –
shrimps, sharks and shrews!
Zippelly, zappely zale –
walrus, wrens and whales!
Jittery, jatterly joon –
ladybugs, lions, loons!
Woodelly, wadelly, wee –
a monkey, and ape in tree!
Gecko and goat in game –
all animals aren’t the same!
Please excuse typos, grammar, format errors, choice of words, syntax, tic tacs, tie tacks, big macs, cracker jacks, boring facts, silly tricks, pick-up stix, plots, thoughts, good guys, bad guys, bad girls, good girls, whirly girls, gyros, heroes, heroines, gyrenes, jelly beans, trampolines, transformers, bun warmers, sailors, tailors, tattoos, old news, old shoes, pikachus, random clues, bubble gum, bubba gumps, shrimps, chimps, vamps, tramps, stamps, tramp stamps, dogs, cats, carrots, ferrets, parrots etcetera etcetera etcetera. I am making this stuff up as I go.
LOW COUNTRY TREAT
^ ^ ^ ^
Plump shrimps, potatoes and corn;
Glazed with lemon bits.
Toss fish, bay leaves on spiced boil
Dancing on taste buds,
Low country treat…
Reeling mouths
Twist!
© copyright
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Contest: Low Country Boil
For : dear Sara Kendrick
What!
Coffee can is empty
He saw in the bin
Earlier,
It's aroma diffuses around the room
Awake, but right on bed he rests
So, it soothes.
Early in the morning
He likes to taste
Inspiration flows afterward
He thought:
My coffee am sure is waiting for zips
Activates the body and re-awakens the memory
Fingers grip the pen and write tirelessly
He chuckles
As the sweet smell of the coffee continues...
He could hear the clinging of wares from the kitchen
Baby is ready for school, he guessed
And coffee is there in the kettle
He smiles
Rhythmically,
He walks and whistle to bath
Freshen up then straight to dine
Alas!
Noodle past garnished with
chillies and shrimps in plate
Why?
Coffee cup is deprived of content
He gazed
So,
...She drank the coffee he smelled
She would be inspired instead
He thought.
Oh!
What a regret
He thought of coffee.
a strawberry granita
mascarpone cream
whit chocolate marshmallow
potted shrimps and pies
green olive sourdoough
rose water
Tea ?
Through the bank account
over painted naivety
it is so intense just to be here
between look and expectation
knowing
I'm just one step from alighting
to be
your personal abyss
afford me completeness
in the same way that
high ranked husband
of well polished wife
pays to a prostitute
by the sadness of creator
using the silk ribbon
you are compressing my foot
(praying that it will stop the growth as the way you'll keep me yours )
I promise that I'll learn:
- to wash my hands in that lemon juice after finishing the portion of high quality
shrimps
- I won't applause in that gap between two arias
- I will pull on that poker face when your hand suddenly leaves mine while we're
standing in the street and you are asking me for an address as you are lost ....
sorry sir I can't help you, I am not from here
with naive faith-
secret is easier to bear in two-
piece of paper
adopted the image of birth
grey tiles
mannerly disinfected
under the glasses misplaced empathy
hand in the pocket of white coat
and naive faith
i guess there is no alternative
when the only thing left as your heritage are nails
i wish it is not the life
and that just a day went wrong
this way
only thing left is a label of
river
down which
no one will ever again dare to
release the paper boats
it would be better
everything
if only
it crossed your mind
to
tide my tubes
Greater Flamingos flock here*,
flames of white and pink bring cheer.
Tall and graceful, standing still,
playful pecking with their bill.
As a colony, they stand
with pink plumage, plush and grand.
Bending down curved snowy necks,
rummaging for food objects.
In the waters, feeding full
with their heads 'neath wetland's pull.
Insects, crabs and tiny fish,
shrimps and planktons as they wish.
Calling each other loudly,
honking deep, they court proudly.
Dancing, preening, paired for life,
Flamboyant flamingos rife.
*Keoladeo National Park, Bharatpur, India.
22nd April 2023
For Emile Pinet's "Write A Jueju-Qijue" contest
As I recall my past, it was a sea kissed life
summers spent roaming the Rabbit Burrows
cradled by dunes, beyond Tramore strand
towels stretched out on Woodstown beach
soft powdered sand, surrounded by forest
adventures in the Saleens, daring quicksand
of swimming with dad, high jumping waves
falling, laughing in great gulps of salt water
free and fearless, in our bare bronzed years
It was a sea salted life of wave-washed castles
of tide pools, alive with translucent shrimps
carmine anemones sucked tight to the rocks
periwinkles, hermit crabs, a world of shells
baby pink crabs moving sideways over stone
textured algae, salted, crisping in the heat
our faces stinging with sand and hot sunshine
we spent hours with nets, exploring the pools
After months and years of living near the sea
the landscape became an essential part of me.
I saw fuchsia ballerinas pirouette the breeze
sea pinks, grassy rosettes swaying on cliff tops
rocket, tiny lilac petals with succulent leaves
valerian, a candy floss pink, sweetly scented
We picked them and pressed them into books
I recall my child’s life with a skipping heart
when summers seemed to shine eternal
The rock pools taught us to treasure nature
togetherness bred a strong sense of self
a respect for the sea, the taste of freedom
when I open a book, I often find a flower
and shells - this child is forever combing
Let’s all bring our mortar and pestle
And have a party of great papaya pickle
We call this a famous Thai ‘’som tum”
So delicious! Heavenly awesome!
Let’s first wear our kitchen attire
Dance the Thai music, don’t be shy
Then prepare all the somtum ingredients
For superb taste, a hundred percent.
Main is fresh green papaya, shredded thinly
Raw string beans, chopped evenly
Dried shrimps, fish sauce, limes and lots of chili
Tomatoes, peanuts and crabs smashed heavily.
Yummy somtum is always served with sticky rice
Paired with fried chicken—get more, twice, thrice…
A long table party, others can sit on a mat
While enjoying somtum scrumptiously hot!
Aug. 28, 2022 10.20pm
Note *hot =means very spicy (but yummy)
Please watch the video on YT on how to make super delicious Thai Somtum
It's A Pickle Party
Contest Judged: 9/10/2022 2:36:00 PM
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Place 5 (up to 9 single w)