Best Shucking Poems
"The Sea Inside Me"
The sea inside me,
hides a Kraken
in its depths,
The Fathomless
lives there beside it,
some strange god
feeding on my
minnow soul
I am one of many
in its overflowing baskets
manna held in fishnets
where butter wouldn’t melt
the seams of clams kissed open
shucking for the untouched pristine
is like diving for black pearls
The sea inside me,
hides a Kraken
in its depths,
The Fathomless
lives beside it
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Seeking My Pearl
Written: by Miracle Man
1-31-2020
I excel in writing when right conditions prevail,
I’m relegated to failure if I’m not giving my best.
No halfhearted effort will be of any avail,
and with that kind of effort God isn’t impressed.
A lofty goal, sometimes causes thoughts to stray,
and bar isn’t high enough if I easily reach my peak.
I just keep shucking oysters believing that someday,
God will give me the pearl that I diligently seek.
What’s the reason for the season
What’s a rhyme without a reason
Celebrate calibrate nothing like it does equate
Jesus Christ was born today in a manger far away
He was born for me and died for you
Jigsaw puzzle He’s the glue
Who gave sight to the blind
Who will be the one left behind
Hallelujah hallelujah the newborn king
Why was HE born today
Will your mind run a astray
Have you found your destiny
Will you live eternally
Food for thought while you eat
Where does Publix get their meat
A little seed will feed the world
How’s an oyster make a pearl
Hallelujah hallelujah the newborn king
Pray for one pray for all
Pray for the big earth ball
Today’s the day to unite
Love your neighbor do what’s right
Now fill your chalice and raise a toast
Thank the father son and Holy Ghost
What’s it take to save the world
Keep shucking oysters
til you find your pearl!
(Chorus)
Thank you lord for the newborn king
Thank you lord for our destiny
Thank you lord from the bottom of our heart
Thank you lord for the brand new start
Thanks again for the newborn KING!!!
I'm the livest survivalest
Some say I did it to death.
I feel like I'm taking my first breaths,
on this blessed quest.
Down south it's heating up.
Fire is burning.
With this knowledge I'm striving so much hire.
Prepared to earn more than ten armies require.
I'm the flyest, wildest, livest, survivalest.
Several times the devil tried to buy this.
He might as well call it quits.
This country boy aint selling it.
The ladder of hope.
I could float to the top,
Alone on these tears of promise.
Forget Osama and Obama,
we don't need no more drama.
Slinging these stones,
if definitely crippling,
its got me questioning
everything...
From all lifes lessons
Good, better, bestest
Every piece is the one
that will carry me the restest.
Far from settling.
Even when I'm at the top
I will continue my quest
for a higher notch
Between now and then
forward progress will never stop.
not till I take that
six foot drop
Persistently, persuing, perfection.
Never let it rest,
Till your good is better,
and your better is your bestest.
I'm the flyest, wildest, livest, survivalest
several times the devil tried to buy this
he might as well call it quits
cause I'm not selling it.
Enjoying the little things in life.
Always thankful for what I've got.
Never worried bout what's not
when he calls I'll be in the perfect spot.
Always's grateful, but my searching hasn't quite stopped.
Hurrying, but not rushing.
Rung after rung...
Mind racing, steadily pacing, my way,
rung after rung...
Feet shuffling, honestly hustling, positively bustling,
from time to time,
Shucking and jiving, persistently striving, and climbing my way
back to the top.
Rung after rung, rung after rung...
Lovers spooning in harvest moonlight,
Unaware of man in the moon,
Amorous the nude mooning,
Of the man in the moon,
Pleasures reaped of sow,
Harvest of earth,
Two lovers,
Shucking,
Corn!
Gathered of golden harvest autumn,
Harvest moonlight gives approval,
Essence love, reflects brilliance,
Of the source majesty,
Pleasures bare witness,
Lover’s rejoice,
Of choice…love,
Sacred,
Voice!
For Contest: Harvest Moon; P
In Honor of Debbie Guzzi
My coat streaked in shades of brown
My home borrowed in the ground
Cheeks full with summers plunder
Winter is coming will there be enough I wonder
Nuts and seed are enough to please
For these I gather with expertise
Shucking and shelling to reveal my foils
Carefully tucking them away so not a one spoils
They say I'm a mammal small in size
I say please don't chastise
For that little debility
I make for with speed and agility
For I am Chipmunk
Not some little punk
I, face what most be ducking;
I escape what most be stuck in.
I, roar while they are clucking.!
I stand, no crawling;No Shucking.
Marching forward,no stalling.
Speaking on it, teaching,not preaching.
I grab it,no reaching;
Serving it raw, no preservatives;
Ain't giving Caesar nothing at all.
All the glory goes to “The All”,
God, is my staff and my rod.
He is my pillar and my rock,
He removes the obstacles that block,
keeps my mind open;
And my vulnerable parts blocked.
He opens my heart when needed,
or keeps it protected under lock.
What I lack he's got,he's got my back,
and front for me,
he's always up to bat.
I am standing on his foundation,
I see premonitions with my internal eye;
Sometimes I sit and cry...
Yet, I face the future with bravery;
I carry the DNA of slavery,
from which he did deliver me.
I have a built-in sensory, to repel the unsavory.
Thick with wit, never dense.
Always thankful for my God-given sense.
No boasting, just facts...
Behind this English preposition...
“I know where my God is at".
Barz for God!!
tens of thousands years ago
(a figurative out in left field ball park figure)
*****Sapiens (or the forebears of said species),
deliberately sought sensate satisfaction
with deliberate zeal
shucking clothes
(perhaps just an animal pelt hiding pubes)
answering (on a private line),
the call of the wild,
not yet verboten feral common weal
way before the identification of venereal
disease (though most likely
germinal forerunner), yet to rank
as demise forecasting deterministic,
fetishistic, hedonistic inviting
Gonorrhea, Herpes, Syphilis, et cetera to an unveil
ling, then (of course) average life span
of primate predecessors brief, nasty, and short,
thus demise from sexually transmitted disease
unlikely the cause of death,
nor spelled catastrophe that would seal
the fate of mankind unlike the here and now,
when the Apocalypse Israel
aside from conflagration
decimating Rohingya's, Uighur's, Yazidi's,
countless other minority populations
severe distress they feel
plus Middle Eastern countries got a raw deal
subjected to their own variety of slaughter,
which genocide ranks as Syria us injustice
calling for immediate appeals,
injunctions, sanctions humanitarian appeal
against inhumane abominations,
terrorization, violations
rather than passively witness
innocent lives being trumped.
Clam shucker yup that's me.
Ice cold or hot from the pot
will you take 6, 12, or 3 ?
Oysters, shrimp and crabs
complete the lot.
Fresh seafood in summer
hits the spot.
Island music is what
I choose to play.
It makes the customers
come my way.
Toes tapping some dancing
while they wait.
To be shucked
the clam and oyster's fate.
The village street comes alive
when I arrive.
The music sets the beat
as people fill the street.
It's work but in a wonderful way
clam shucking for my pay.
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy,plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching cellular skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
"Sweet Dinah won't you blow my horn?"
She's in the kitchen shucking corn
And when she hums
The whole world comes
To bless the day when she was born!
Shucking corn fresh from the garden
It's not much fun language pardon
Tasty treat_sweet to eat
Lessons learned from this yucky chore
Tough shuck protects kernels galore
Pluck protects heart's soft meat
First time writing Tail-Rhyme
According to site:
Rhyming couple -eight syllables
Shorter line-does not rhyme
Then another couplet
Then a single line of fewer syllables
that rhymes with line three
But I have a question.....
It shows rhyme scheme as
aab,ccb but that is not what it
says in the printed part..
Which is correct?
A woman who works shucking corn
Tells jokes that are Iowan born
Just lend her an ear
And you're bound to hear
How colonels can milk a French horn
Words in the belfry, words in the hall, words in my sandwiches, words for us all.
What if you know no written words? What if you cannot read? What is my world?
Words in my head, swirling around, making me laugh. Idiocy, munchkin and calf.
How would you play video games if you could not read how to win or succeed?
Crazy words, kooky words, sexy words too, sensuous words for the likes of you.
You would grow up in a world, feeling completely left out, practically wanting to shout.
Adjectives like worrisome, intense, sickening, magnificent, gloriously, dependably blue,
Adjectives, smad-jectives, verbs, curbs, pronouns, ho-downs, they all make you pout.
Verbs like shucking, laughing, jumping, whirling, swirling, dancing, prancing, wheezing,
Verbs? You want me to care about something like that? I cannot read Dick, Spot or Jane.
Gardening, swimming, oops, I am switching back to adjectives thinking of brimming.
I cannot read sight words you moron, do not even know what they are, I am in pain.
Words in my pancakes, words changing my food, butter, syrup, oozing, I am in a great mood!
I will have to get along somehow, maybe as a thug, maybe selling coke, maybe selling a drug.
I will be a linguist, librarian, teacher, I will write sermons, songs, maybe be a preacher.
Cannot even play video games, let me be, your written-encrusted world has nothing for me.
Observing the appearance of the Hale-Bopp Comet
in March 1997, the Heaven’s Gate Cult of San Diego,
California, chose to commit mass suicide.
We eunuchs run a starship enterprise.
These breeders are a cul-de-sac, life-wise –
it’s fatal, this fertility. Our sign
in silent eloquence beckons us, benign,
and distant safety looms. These perfumed petals
warn of replication. Bonny nettles,
acid sacs insistent, brilliantly
express us. The existing tyranny
of sexual torture, stifling status quo,
is not for us. Our star is here. Let’s go.
Our quest? The fattened calf, Finality,
the fertile farrow offered by Fatality.
This tyranny, Existence, has to end –
so says, with brilliantest insistence, our bright friend –
“Leave tortured sexuality behind,
enjoy the eloquent silence of Pure Mind.”
This lethel phiall of phenobarbitone
will free us from the fetid fleshbound zone,
the only way to stay alive and grow.
Let’s shed the skin that's dead. It’s time to go.
Safe distance from the urges that benight us,
a chance to live within this life’s detritus
like hermit crabs, is all we ever wanted,
abandoning the rigid shells we haunted
until our moment came. And now we’re leaving.
We’re shedding, shucking, shifting, shunning, shrieving.
No more of nitro-clover-copulation,
or aimless, shameless, overpopulation,
where carbon concentration camps are rife.
We’re going home. We’re dying into life.