Best Snails Poems
~o~
s
u f
c o
h know
a never
tiny Will
every life, know.
flutter by so never
and strengthen slowly will
seeps Deep. petals going... who
up Inside. Deep. who's away. Travelers,
his Feelings. Life. flower; wondering,
wings, Numb. Still. young wandering,
for Like a for
it's a to scents
vibrant dying life the
color. butterfly, giving carry
Let And
the wind soothe it's last bit of life.
snails
they seem to have
quite a following
the thing
about snails
signiture
It’s hard to be a snail.
When there’s no rain or hail
For a year.
I am in despair.
There is an awful drought
Not much water is about.
Plants that were juicy green
Are hard, and dry, and taste obscene.
No longer is there the pleasure of soaking for an hour.
In a sprinkling shower
Now, water comes in a quick bucket burst
That knocks you off your perch,
Once I got a bath of scented soap
Which boosted ego beyond my wildest hope.
I strutted in the garden with striding pride
Which is very strange because a snail can never stride
Mostly I get soaked from the kitchen sink
A filthy, dirty mixture that makes me stink.
It dries so quickly hard, and sticks to shell and skin
Spoiling any chance of another weeks love-in
The ground’s so hard and rasping dry
That sliding makes me cry
The stinging grit is needle sharp
I inch along, I never dart.
The gardens dry, the plants won’t grow
But I’d hate to see it go.
The latest news makes me quite sick
I hear they want to cover it with brick
Sketchy parody has never been so easy they make it your way
Two snails in the yard
Drinking nothing but pure lard
This for them is hard.
Baby snails had a garden race,
old gnome would time their hasty chase,
slow jo, low creep lined up at crease,
both bragged they would win it with ease,
the race started with wave of flag,
three feet from big pot to old bag
“Angels!” he said “can’t wait anymore!”
when the race finished they heard him snore!
1st placement
Written 07/March/2021
Eve Roper sponsored
Nursery rhyme poetry contest
syllables 8 each line and 9 last tow lines!
The snails met in secret
For their parents were political
Arguing about everything
That never matters to anyone at the moment of death
The sheer art of peeling a snail is akin to rubbing moth balls in one's eyes. To feel and sense with such ambidextrous wisdom is often not that wise. And of course plain hazardous. One's mental sanity can best be preserved by nodding in agreement thus not allowing any turmoil to exist. In a floating membrane there can be many colours so paints must be rearranged alphabetically to not cause confusion. It us the will of a cloth to clout dust. And trust is often stagnant when placed in rows. Documents arriving to call time on a neglected front. Good. The mere prowess of a supernatural wallaby is derived from the simplest of string bows. Whilst rabbis often enjoy racing in sand dunes. It is to be ascertained at this moment in this era that a spun yarn is tarnished and onions jumping from ships are best left in dingys to float alone. On and on an up and up. Down and down and round and round. A voluminous cake in high heels causing a sensation in a tree lined street. Bickering horses pass over the tableaux and all is motioned with the booming cluck from a forty foot chicken. A congested area can seal many secrets of secretion for the antics of an ant man and a silver fox woman can and will be baked in a line of sugar coated biscuits. So chant then. Sing then. Dance around. Annihilate the frogspawn leaking from a house. In a nice posh voice ask Mr Speaker to run around with his many legs and forty foot antennae. This will be applauded by the global fish faces. Great. Gobi then. Oval Office occurring on oceans. Xxxxx milk bottle calling xxxxx trepidation table xxxxx zoological Z paleonticalogical p y q
To him life is just another tradition
Although'
You will never see him past you by
You will see him at the beginning
Of a good race
But, he is doomed to come in last
And that is not so very odd
Because you just can't seem
To tell them apart,
And some how he just seem'
To do it with grace
This particular person
Is never in your face
-
What not is so very odd
-is-
That you can see him slide
An pace right by
He always' leave a trace
As he proceed with his race
-
He is my favorite work horse
Even if he doesn't win another race
And yes he is a winner
And is always' too the chase
He never comes' in second place
GF
truly wanting to
retire in Ecuador
even as a child i
wanted to visit
the Galapagos
but now to learn
in turn how to do
the tantric moves
almost contorted
for a hundred year
coupling without
struggling in Zen
like happy tortured
souls together in a
giant tortoise mating
Crunch
Lettuce is sprouting
In my organic garden
Snails are in rapture
Snails are slow always making tracks
sliding along with their shells on their backs.
Munching on plants as they crawl along
singing a happy song all day long.
Strawberry Snails Forever
There once was a strawberry pink snail.
She was sweet from her nose to her tail.
She crossed over the moss.
Never stopping or cross.
Eating bits growing out of the shale.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
Its ludicrous in wales today, ideology holds the maddest
Sway.' A twenty mile an hour plan, for every motoring
Woman and Man.? And every bus? and taxi too? A lunacy
A type of zoo.' Thats how i view this stupidity, and it can't
Remain..' Twixt you and me' just like a joke, its really bad
Thats plain, which be shared, cause its too sad.' Some scum
That float
Ideas and division, have slashed and torn, the soul and fabric
With savage inscisons.' almost un-human, its nearly there'
Cold as ice, devoid of care, Wales needs more optimisam
Less oppression, more hope; and not such blandness and
Nonsense revision, with inverted tropes' baboons i say could
do no
Worse, than your so called leaders all davos re-vh-ersed.!