Ingredients:
1. One pinch of sugar (Honey can sub)
2. A dash of what works
3. 1/2 teaspoon of table salt ( Or sea salt )
4. 1 large egg (Egg whites for real)
Instructions:
1. Mix them together until light and fluffy.
2. Flatten the lumps out, soften the sharpness
3. Blend until the texture mellows the taste of reality.
Secret sauce: Seven spices to taste.
Just don’t tell what they really are. EVER.
Do you want to see me sweat?
Would you like to know how to make
my heart race? I blur lipstick lines
with beads of water on a mocktail glass.
Poetic eyes and a melodic voice
may get me perspiring profusely.
Can you take it?
How hot of a whisper can you handle?
My promises hit like a Carolina reaper,
still my skin’s moisture is more piquant.
Maybe Mr Right also has a little bite,
if you’re reading this? Please write to me.
Hot saucy words that make me swoon,
I may get a case of the nerves for a bit,
it’s just the rush of not knowing.
Would you still like to know how to make
my heart race? I’ll weave emotions with
ink on a cocktail napkin.
So I’ll ask again,
Do you want to see me sweat?
where did the steampunk hermit crab go?
we saw him a few days ago, on a beach in Idaho
I figured this nutjob was delusional now
Idaho has no beaches, but farms for a cow
Are you sure you did not see the crab somewhere else?
My cousin gave me the stink eye; his name is Kelse.
I thought it was Idaho, on that famous beach they have.
I added to the idiocy. “On steamy Steampunk Ave?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tiny carapace scavenger—borrowed home wobbles
across tidal gossip, the ocean's leftover breath.
One claw dips into a vanishing puddle, testing
the myth of endless retreat. The tide writes,
then rewrites, its invitation in evening sand.
hermit's shell
feeling way too tight of fit
had to go
off it slipped
as naked crab stole a conch
clad in nacre pearl
-Let's see Cortinario with fattened foot
If you answer me, who says
To everyone who sees him:
If my mouth opens
You'll open too.
Clytocibe: -The Flycatcher
From the Cathedral of Burgos.
-Very well Cortinario
You know what you know.
-Today are you going to take the mules to water
At the fountain in Ejido?
-Why do you say that?
-Because when you come for water
From the hermitage where I meditate
I feel the horseshoes.
-Well, you're going to feel them even more
When the crab puts you
In the cave.
-Oh no. Not that.
-What do you mean no!
You know: saying “oh no”
Is like saying *******.
-Shut up, silly boy.
Pray without sorrow
For at the foot of the altar awaits you
The Devil who watches over you
With a paschal candle
Lucent in his hands.
pincer-like movement
mollusc shell host shifts crab wise ~
life clings to low tide
Wild Animal Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Syllable counter PS 5/7/5
04/11/22
the hermit crab lives
true to its given name through
its life lest mating
Date: 08/27/2019
Crab in seashell squats
Until hermit does not fit -
House swaps are a must.
he left behind his home of coral
in search of better things,
breaking vows and flaunting morals,
cutting loose from tightening strings
trapped between the sea and land,
he scuttles 'cross an endless beach,
stranded on the burning sand,
he seeks a place he'll never reach
nirvana, no; nor heaven's gate
is not his wanted destination,
a hiding place, before too late,
to save him from incineration
t'would seem to be a simple chore;
find shelter from his self made hell
to listen to the ocean's roar,
inside another's empty shell
but all the seashells remain filled,
safe haven is denied this day;
his beating heart shall soon be stilled
and carcass will be washed away
he lies upon the burning sand,
hot sun begins to do its deed,
to end this life with God's own hand
the homeless hermit's finally freed
Rex the hermit crab carried a trashed shell
that reeked with a horribly rotten smell.
He intently scrubbed
till his claws were nubbed
then resolved to move into a hotel.
Copyright © 2010 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Sixth Place Winner ~ "Sea Tale Limericks” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire
March 4, 2010
Scurrying across the ocean floor
leaving faint tracks in the sand
moving sideways to go forward
nothing mapped or even planned.
The sand is always shifting
ever changing the terrain
all creatures are in hiding
misdirected or insane.
Go on and on forever
waving claws in wild defense
abandoned ocean creatures know
that none of this makes sense.
Seaweed waving, beckoning
hypnotic dance of death
trust not the grinning clown fish
blowing bubbles with their breath.
The ancient crusty oyster shell
protects the tender meat
a grain of sand the irritant
spits pearls in mock defeat.
The current is relentless
overwhelming constant motion
and serenity's unheard of
at the bottom of the ocean.
a squatter or scab,
drags his house, like a shell cab,
that's the hermit crab!
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