Long Crabs Poems
Long Crabs Poems. Below are the most popular long Crabs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crabs poems by poem length and keyword.
DAUGHTERS
Opposites presented by Goddess
in talons of Eagle
on wings of Dove
Equally loved
A torrent from a fierce black cloud
yang frothing waves in a storm
beating seaweed rocks
claiming it in her bosom
then furling it afar
into unknown depths
where Neptune roars
his roar on end
boasting an indigo flag
Then ...light as a feather
yin floating on a shimmering beach
rosy ringlets microscope crabs, bubbles
giggling at ant antics
in crevices of creaky floorboards
while autumn Sun sets
dew drops on clover leaves
so misty morning says Hello !
A dancing juicy apricot
kisses at library doors
spongy beneath oak exterior
where beetles dug a hundred paths
staring defiance at an orange star
scornful, graceful, factual
proclaiming a Largeness of Life !
An Earth child in long waves of auburn
reaching for Mercury
A Spirit child, Earth located
One imaged from bowels of struggle
she whispered freedom in my ears
when behind prison bars
I sat counting toes
One imaged from Gabriel’s gown
or was it Merlin’s ?
she fingered watercolours
through my lenses
As Saturn said goodbye ...
Sirius screamed from wreaking hell
wrought from rages or sages unknown
Born in blood without its blue
from a womb of turmoil tremors
crystal dripping dark strife
hypocrisy contemplated
torn apart by churning guts
as young medics ogled
grimaced, searched
so premature, so incubated
it was “I will survive!”
Sun and Moon crossed one another
not knowing which way but loose
streaming rivers flowing sideways
in dusty towns, painted villages, rape
a gecko appeared on a pillowcase
Gangster peeped through a window
books came tumbling down
numbers flew away
lashes black as croaking crow
it was “I am here!”
There can be no coin to
ponder if not faces two
no tornado ripping apart
if no breezes play on
a horse farm in Karoo
No life if no death
Night clings to day
as daybreak clings to escaping night
sunset embraces twilight
negates itself, disappearing
one embalming the other while
flying
together on a silver thread
in blueberry Sky !
Triumph
Frank Halliwell
In silence, in the velvet night,
lit by pinpoints of vivid light,
I wander blindly to the south,
immersed in frigid seas.
My age is lost in time's shadows,
..in aeons of primeval snows,
Borne from the Greenland glacier fields,
far from the warm land breeze.
My drift; by currents is maintained;
my course; by fate is preordained,
Before midnight I drift inside..
the busy shipping tracks.
A lookout spots me in the dark,
a radio transmits the spark.
I am reported to the world
and cautious souls react.
But from the east this winter night,
a black colossus steams in sight,
Racing to the west despite
the danger waiting there!
Her goal is shipping dominance,
her high speed fueled by arrogance,
Before the night is over,
the result will be despair.
I wait, and I feel no remorse,
in spite of the collision course,
For I am just a passive player
in this deadly play.
They've seen me now, but much too late,
and there is no escaping fate,
A glancing blow is struck and leaves
her plates in disarray!
My mass absorbs the mighty shock;
my body solid as bedrock.
I shatter not, nor tremble
as the ship glances away.
The icy water rushes in,
filling compartments to the brim.
Fifteen hundred doomed to die
seek refuge in dismay!
But there is none; nowhere to go,
the frigid water is the foe!
The ship is listing badly now;
the end is near at hand!
Lifeboats are lowered with all speed,
but are too few to fill the need.
'Nearer my God to Thee' is heard,
played by the doomed ship's band..
The stern rises above the waves,
then plunges to her watery grave,
A plume of air and flotsam mark
the place of her long dive.
Water too cold to sustain life,
kills them as surely as a knife,
And in a mere ten minutes
none of them are left alive!
The cries and shouts and prayers have ceased,
the sea returns to lonely peace.
The engineering triumph rests
among the crabs and snails.
The news is spread around the world
and flags at half-mast are unfurled,
Fifteen hundred families
are left to weep and wail.
In silence, in the velvet night,
lit by pinpoints of vivid light
I wander blindly to the south
immersed in frigid seas.
My age is lost in time's shadows,
..in aeons of primeval snows,
Borne from the Greenland glacier fields,
far from the warm land breeze.
>>> Titanic is gone.
***
ON DAY 1 of Noel my sweetie gave to me a Bluejay in a Fir Tree!
ON DAY 2 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 2 Mourning Doves
And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 3 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 3 Prairie Hens
2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 4 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 4 Red Rock Crabs
3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 5 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red
Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 6 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 6 Brent Geese
5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves
And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 7 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 7 Tundra Swans
6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens
2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 8 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 8 Dairies Milking
7 Tundra Swans 6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs
3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 9 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 9 Bull Elk Dancing
8 Dairies Milking 7 Tundra Swans 6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS!
4 Red Rock Crabs 3Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 10 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 10 Lambs a Leaping
9 Bull Elk Dancing 8 Dairies Milking 7 Tundra Swans 6 Brent Geese
5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens
2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 11 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 11 Pipets Peeping 10 Leaping
Lambs 9 Bull Elk Dancing 8 Dairies Milking 7 Tundra Swans
6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS! 4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens
2 Mourning Doves And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree
ON DAY 12 of Noel my sweetie gave to me 12 Canadian Lynx linking
11 Pipets Peeping 10 Leaping Lambs 9 Bull Elk Dancing 8 Dairies Milking
7 Tundra Swans 6 Brent Geese 5 NEW CRAB RINGS!
4 Red Rock Crabs 3 Prairie Hens 2 Mourning Doves
And a Bluejay in a Fir Tree!
A baby gorilla's bedtime is a harmonic period when the bananas line up with little leaf rattles to softly croon to slumber the furry ball. Priceless is the process of pacification and pacifications are not prevalent in the pacific, the polar regions, nor do they play with piñatas in Paraguay. It is to be said that a tortoise shell footstool can rotate at great speeds do cast iron boots must be worn if placing one's feet upon the tapestry printed square form. The chime of lime is very very noisy but not as noisy as the incessant chatter and chuckling from the bowl of sugar cubes. Sugars state signalling shaped saying stuff silkily and silly too. But a mild mannered oxon could take a heifer to a ballroom but only if properly attired in a beach towel, sun glasses, three piece suit and a gown. Then an entrance can be made. With a thud. And a bellow. Brass bands made of cream donuts can entertain at this dance and the hall is quite packed with skimming skirts, scantily clad pea women, and the tidal spore has come dressed as a ringmaster but no whip for whips are for the underground stations and platforms of legs. Legality leaves legs lingering liberally. Akin to sprinkling a fine spray of salt across a plate of the towering vegetables. Piled high. Architectural really. Very mesmerising is the mist of a fine diner whose aroma lifts the air surrounding with a unjust uniquely identifiable stench. And stench drenched can be a wench, a bench but never a welk. For welk belong in tree houses and tree houses are not tables and not talking ash trays either. Ash trays do not modify a month of moon shaped mammoths. And a tree semi formed can bite so always walk very very very briskly when passing a thicket. Zoom then. Go on zoom. A zoom in a room. How rather entertaining and entertainment is equal to a climbing plant pot scaling a sky scraper. How great. Such feat with no feet. And how deserving of the medal at the Olympics of Oscar fish in an oceanographic weave of seafood cocktail with melon jus. Haha the wide mouthed octopi are singing gospel tunes to a small party of crabs. Ha the divinatory dogs diving definition digging dreams. Ha the musical mustard jar moving in time to the fish fork forte. Xxxxxx reciprocal z z z zzz. At ten loaves to forty seven slices of butter cake. Z z z z z z. 57294894907398%. Z
Form:
I walked alone
along a sandy and lonely beach.
The raging waves from the sea
crashed onto the slimy sea shore.
The riding waves were white and bare,
but when they violently crashed, turned white and black.
I walked along the lonely beach.
Listening to the seagulls chatting
on silver rocks and boulders.
I sat near the shore.
The waves coing in and out
crashing violently on the silver rocks and boulders.
I sat there, lonely skipping pebbles into the vase and endless sea.
The waves came in and swallowed the pebbles, I threw its way.
The sea crabs wabbling from side to side, came up from the shore.
They kept me company on a lone and quiet evening.
A lone dog walking without an owner
came and curled up next to me,
and barked at the chattering seagulls.
They flew in panic toward the setting of the Red Sun,
and disappeared into the evening paradise.
The lone dog gazed upon the red sheld sea crabs,
and chased their wabbling bodies away
back down to the slimy sea shore.
And at the setting of the evening, I was alone.
Soon I had seen something
that had shocked me,
A young and beautiful gypsy woman.
She crossed my path along the lonesome beach.
All of a sudden the beach became full with love and life of all kind.
The lilacs, and roses, and violets and daisies
grew tall and bloomed, like madmen.
The waves pulled in by the full moon,
that shinned upon me and the Gypsy Woman.
She was decorated with ragged skirts and blouses,
with shinny, white pearls around her neck,
and golden bracelets around her wrists.
She smiled at me.
I smiled back at her.
Her hair black, with a vail of flowers around her head.
She stopped me and held my hand.
I was astonished and afraid.
What was this stunning and beautiful woman doing to me?
A victim of lost love and heartbrake.
I had no money, no jewlery.
I asked her what she wanted.
She replied with loneliness in her voice;
"To be loved."
I pulled her in, and kissed her,
and whispered softly in her ear,
decorated with silver earrings;
"Me too."
We joined hands and walked the lonesome sandy beach.
Listening to the waves, now softly coming in and pulling out.
The shore, now not so slimy,
and the silver rocks and boulders sleeping so peacefully.
I turned to her and she smiled at me.
I held her in my arms and kissed her upon her sweet brow.
I am a foodie, I must confess, I swim a few laps for exercise
Along come the Mollusk, and to my pleasant surprise
I have no restraint and they look so yummy
I just open my jaws wide, and fill up my tummy
Holy Mackerel, they make quite the feast!
Unlike that deepwater whale; Moby Vic, that lumbering beast
A real blow show, they eat any freak’n thing
Whale diet: Squid, Krill, Larvae, what distaste they bring!
Ah, catching up to the guys, what are they circling ‘round?
Heya Tom, Bill, GW, Anil. Rob, l see you’ve gained a pound
“I’m on a sea-food diet, I see food, I eat it!” Hee hee hee
Yep, you may want to stick to your day job, try a sea-shanty!
Look over there boys, the Seahorses, I hear they work for LYFT
Harry, how’s business, break for some sushi? California Roll, a gift
You may wanna giddy up, plenty of shrimp crawling beneath you
I know how much the Seahorse love to munch crustaceans too
"Shrimp—cockroaches of the sea! Not a kosher food"
Okay GW, what do you eat, my friend, set the mood
Gefilte fish recipe; grind the salmon, red snapper, codfish,
Onions, carrots, add eggs, sugar, salt, white pepper, in a dish
Stir in ice water, add matzo meal and chop, boil, voila, gefilte fish!
To the right of us, why it’s Lady L, my, she is swell
Small crabs on her menu, anything in the sand that dwell
Blowfish is a species that feeds on poison, dangerous to eat
They can’t hunt, they call ‘em puffers, just one puff’s a real treat
Anil, do you believe in sea nymphs on a blue oceanic parade?
Yes, I vision the lovely face of Wendy on the frame of a mermaid
Nil, come on now, aren’t you married, mate
OK, Tom, I’m going home, I won’t be late, I won’t be late
To the right of us the Starfish, greet the ladies of the sea
How they brighten the day, on display, as charming as can be
Pangie, Valsa, Andrea, Paula, Len, Kim, Eve and Gina
I know how you love snails, I bring escargot straight from the Marina
And so, my friends, another lovely day. Join us for our usual Activities and Brunch
6/11/22
Third Place
A Merger With Food Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
A serious question was posed to me recently.
Where do you go?
I said…
Well, I wait for the darkest, clearest night,
go to the highest point on the highest hill
and watch for the shooting stars.
And I make a wish.
…and I fly through the sky like an airplane
no, a bird, not just any bird, the Wandering Albatross,
I glide, for hours without the thought of touching the earth,
or even flapping my wings.
That’s just too much work.
…and sometimes I’m just
there…
…and I soak in the salty water of the Atlantic Ocean
waves of warm liquid rushing over me,
trying to pull me under the moistened sand.
Dead Crabs and broken shells at my feet…
…and sometimes I stay there…
…and I am a child at the fair,
the aroma of cotton candy and funnel cakes in the stagnant air
and I’m on the top of the Ferris Wheel observing the ants below.
…He’s watching me; he’s always watching me…
…and sometimes I’m there…
…and I’m running with Alice;
because this little white rabbit with a watch is apparently late for an important meeting;
and we’re like, “What’s the hurry, little rabbit?”
Rabbits don’t go to meetings… do they?
…but sometimes I don’t go anywhere…
…and there is this girl,
she smells like sugar, corn syrup, and sweetened milk,
warmed for four minutes and then cooled and wrapped in wax paper;
it’s Halloween and we’re teenagers… and that’s her favorite treat; and I’m awkward…
…and her voice is a song… and I’m stupid…
…and her hair is a soft fire… and I’m ugly…
I need her in my life... I mean, I did…
…but she’s gone now…
…she’s moved...on…
…away… from me…
…and I go to a place where I am an alien,
and the Martians ask me questions, like,
how are the hot dogs in New York City,
or is Chicago deep dish pizza to die for?
…have you ever had southern BBQ?
…and are earth girls really easy?
And we laugh… Yep… we laugh…
…me and the freaky alien voice in my head…
…so, I laugh daily and always let everyone know that, I’m okay…
Because…
Sometimes, I am there…
I mean … sometimes, that’s where I go…I go back there…
…I’m trying to grasp a hold, gain control over the fear, anger, self-hatred…
…gripping me in the places
…he wasn’t supposed to.
Eugene Finley
The time had come, we were agreed
To discontinue paying rents.
We'd make our plans and then proceed
To buy or build a residence.
i said an older house I'd choose.
A little house and lot would do.
The first of many fights I'd lose,
My wife and daughters wanted new.
Because of our financial state,
A giant mortgage would be tough.
I said we can't be profligate.
Two bedrooms and a bath's enough.
That sound opinion was not shared.
'Twould be the last they'd listen to.
And I was badly unprepared
To face the hell they put me through.
Each girl demanded her own room,
And two for guests my wife required.
(Her parents, harbingers of gloom,
And shiftless brother, who'd been fired.)
A living room with stone fireplace,
A finished den with vast TV,
Cathedral ceilings, (Wasted space!)
And just in case, a nursery.
The house entirely made of brick,
At least three baths and custom doors,
With granite counters, (Now I'm sick!)
A laundry room, and hardwood floors.
Its tubs so large we could bathe whales,
The hugest closets ever made,
New furniture from Bloomingdale's,
And landscaped trees providing shade.
A massive lawn (More I must mow!)
For future pool put underground,
A grill and screened-in patio,
And fence so pets can run around.
* * * * *
We've since moved in and now know how
A home affects a family.
The years have passed. I'm happy now.
We've added daughter number three.
To save on gas, I walk to work.
I carry lunch and no new cars.
My second job is hardware clerk.
I've sold my clubs and quit cigars.
Instead of crabs, we buy sardines.
No more expensive suits or gowns.
In place of steaks, it's franks and beans,
And younger girls wear hand-me-downs.
A lower temp to save on heat,
From pure-bred pets to shelter strays,
No gyms to jog, we have our street,
And no more concerts, trips, or plays.
More years ahead of steady debts,
But we're content to pay the price.
The five of us have no regrets.
We've learned to live with sacrifice.
A dream house we now occupy.
I'm feeling masculine inside.
I'm filled with pride when home I spy.
My family is satisfied.
With the heavy load you suffer
a substance not needed
yet drags you
cushioning your efforts
and deterring your pace, forgetting that
the Train is already moving
with passengers determined
for this journey.
Why get so distracted
by passers-by focused to catch up?
Why are you tossed side to side,
putting you each time,
a step backwards?
Can't you realize that
the Train is already moving
with passengers determined for this journey?
It seems you are the only one left
and this is solely your doing
with no one to blame
and the rest,
definitely have no added advantage over you.
So stop acting weak
cos the Train
is already moving
with passengers determined for this journey.
Wake up oh Africa!
you get your independence
just to become a volunteer slave.
You live in a Mansion
yet have no place to sleep.
Stop acting like a bucket of Crabs
killing each other
just to get out
and copy the ants
united and networking
for a common cause.
You fight for just a coin
underneath the Table.
When on it is a box
full of this same treasure.
Despite knowing how to reach out
to its top,
you neglect such knowledge
and accept conflicts, violence and wars.
Settling for good enough
is worst than being bad
you blow your trumpet
when you make a step
out of a thousand more.
You show unbelievable contentment
to mediocrity and under-achievements,
but remember this!
Half a giant is no giant at all.
You have the breast plate
of protection
and all the arsenals to battle
yet you dine with the helms of poverty
and embrace the ambassadors
of all kinds of infirmities.
You walk around naked
and seem not to bother
oh Africa!
Do you exist to actualize all these negativity?
An expert of imitation
and a professional in copying
no wonder no matter your trys
you end up as number 2 at best.
Because you've neglected
the sweetness of your originality.
You milk your cattle
to nourish the west
you harvest your crops
to feed foreign stomachs
you stand on abundant humus
yet your leaves are yellow and dry.
Exactly what will happen to the ants
if their Queen puts
their fate on the lizards
is what will befall you
not until you wake up oh Africa!
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The Cinematic Film Treatment as Poetic Element
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Sagitanis Goes 'Bow Wow'
Nightingale Sagitanis is a homeless woman suffering chronic and debilitating bouts of near-terminal existential ennui and muscatel intoxication until, in the midst of a heat spell caused by bovine methane in the suburbs of Happy Valley, South Dakota (as her heartbeat thankfully approached zero) she hears a whimpering and feels a warm furry body tentatively crawling up her leg on the crack whore mattress she calls home in a concrete culvert pipe under the streets at the Splitdorf Retirement Community, and fights off the alarm of impending invasion, but quickly concluding that this couldn't be land crabs or police drone robots or Chupacabra or a bacterial infection or the dream of marital child bearing bliss that often haunted her lonely nights or delirium tremens or a pack of Blast bubble gum (her favorite) born on the backs of soldier ants driven from their homes by a lawn sprinkler malfunction or an errant cable guy on a peeping Tom mission or the icy fingers of doom which she secretly hoped for in a Freudian nihilistic reaction to a cruel foster mother who forced her to read the entire literature of time lapse orchid pornographer Marshal McLuhan or a full body orifice search by Homeland Security or vanguard elements of the yearly gray squirrel migration, no none of these, rather, as she felt the charming tickle of not one but three cold wet noses and the slap slap slapity of 3 vigorously wagging tails and the lap lap lapity of three enthusiastic tongues did she realize that she had been adopted by a triumvirate of abandoned Labrador retrievers, left bewildered in a mall parking lot by a family of PhD garden dwarfs which she quickly named, Larry , Moe and Curly, the dogs, not the dwarfs, who then provided enough love, slack and protection for Nightingale to attend canine night school and learn the ways of the wolf and the coyote and the dingo and rip the throat out of her oppressors.
From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon