Long Crustaceans Poems
Long Crustaceans Poems. Below are the most popular long Crustaceans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crustaceans poems by poem length and keyword.
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
Shellfish at high prices are what the fish store sells.
People pay a lot for those scrawny hard shells.
Catchers flock to the waters of the Jersey Shore.
They go to catch those blue claws they adore.
You see people with their wire mesh traps and string.
Crabbers are at bridges looking to get something.
They throw the traps into the water over the side.
Along the bottoms of the inlets is where the crustaceans hide.
Crabs turn red only while they cook.
A greenish-brown color is how they naturally look.
New Jersey folks think the crabs taste quite good.
There is no need to go to Maryland. Crabs are right in the neighborhood.
A story of a Mountain
The mountain on the other side of the bay was born
before colours were introduced to make the world a jollier place for humanity,
mind it has three hues, black, grey and white, without these
shades the mountain would have been unseen, a shimmer of the morning light,
to avoid an accident, it would have to be spray painted every four years.
The mountain is not a place for a Sunday stroll; they say it is slippery and
if a bird overflies, it drops dead; and no plants grow in cracks.
But where the mountain meets the sea are crustaceans the size of dolphins,
and one lobster can feed a family of five, so in its sterile exterior the mountain has hidden richness and looks glorious at sunset.
Life is full of steps and stages
As we learn what it is to be alive.
And every stage is marked
By the recognition that we were wrong
About what it is we now know.
Like a box within a box
Or nesting Russian dolls
Continually we open onto a new world
A new level of understanding.
We talk of insects and crustaceans
Reptiles and amphibians shedding their skin
But we do it too, just more subtly and subjectively,
And as more evolved beings, continuously.
What is it we shed besides old dead skin?
Old dead ideas, outgrown, outlived
Making way for the new
Slowly changing the programmed self
Into a newer version, gradually adjusting
Our identity
With software updates
That continually need the bugs worked out.
When does this all end?
Never, Life says
With every new layer of skin.
(9/13/25)
Pink hue flamingo it must be due to all
the carotenoid pigments feasted on
algae and crustaceans
An elongated neck spirals
and filters such sensations
Sharing color is Okinawa salmon sushi,
bolster lobster and shrimp scrimp
Graceful qualifiers primp poised tropical dwellers
balancing effortlessly on one outstretched leg,
A ballerina’s pirouette in fuchsia tutus’
Statuesque stillness in shallow water
Rosette feathers flair flamboyance
Passionate plumage, blushing boas
Webbed feet tap and stamp below,
an aquatic burlesque show
The flamenco dance named after you
Rose-tinted creature tranquil, wader
Hook-billed blackened lamellae
sieved nobly, an intense look in a print
Cluster buster of pink with lengthy legs that sprint
Strewn on the shoreline, as I walk along the beach
Bits and pieces of life forms, churned up from beneath
Shells, jellyfish, crustaceans, even sea anemones
What was alive yesterday, lays shredded in the weeds
Hard to fathom what happens, below ocean waves,
One big stewing pot, perhaps a connoisseurs buffet,
Before me are remnants, of this very watery grave,
4 billion years of evolution, I’m the apex that surveys,
Take a second to absorb, let my observation sink in,
No creature other than humans, come here to think,
Many have walked this path, maybe even to swim,
I only see gulls now, pulling starfish limb from limb,
Humanity tries to discern nature, a need to understand,
Figure out what the hell’s going on, in our wonderland,
Where’d that seed come from, who’s really in command,
The biggest question of all, was anything ever planned,
A moment of clarity, really hits me over the head,
Why me, an individual, but one of unknown depth,
Sitting on the sand now, drawing in, rigid breaths,
What’s it all about God, come on please confess,
Voice in my head says, people are the chosen ones,
I’ve seen this very instant, before the universe begun,
But nothing was planned, when all is said and done,
I see what’s going to happen, you design how it comes.
10/18/20 original post
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
08/09/22
The sandy beach
thins into a wash of rounded pebbles
where the tide licks,
before that a muddy ribbon
trickles briny trinkets surged up
from the oceans bottom.
Here be the bones of tiny seahorse dragons,
and bloated macroscopic marine algae,
their seaweed green strands inflated
until the sun bakes
their pale upturned pods into pyrite beads.
Fractured mollusk shells splinter the broken claws
of minuscule crustaceans -
all the natural flotsam of debris trawling waves.
A sculptured driftwood expressed into mythic forms
anchors its art where the wind combs.
Sometimes coins, both new and old, surface
to be pocketed once more.
Obscure metallic treasures knuckle
and poke-mark the shoreside
with their unanswered questions.
I have no questions, walking the dawn light
I am a shipwreck, my mind roaming
along the shores edge.
My heart a seagulls cry, a wilderness call
that keeps me fishing for new depths
of a fathomless self.
My Blue Cheese Is...
A favored dish on most menus
and often more expensive too;
this treat for some still continues
to be for me a huge taboo.
Selective eater, I am not...
I like all veggies and most meats
presented as both cold and hot...
but NO to creepy-crawler treats!
No, thanks...to 'beetles' of the sea...
crustaceans with long antennae!
No Lobster tails and claws for me...
to eating bugs I won't comply!
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: A Stunner 2018
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Judged: 03/18/2018
NOTE:
"The thick slabs of meat you get off a good-sized lobster are a little hard to conceptualize as insect meat, I’ll grant you, but according to the most modern data it really is accurate to think of lobsters as ocean-bound beetles..." Ref: https://www.geek.com/news/lobsters-really-are-cockroaches-of-the-sea-1614260/
Clams on parade go salty down
Slip into comas in throats of oceans
Land on floor beds blanketed in mud
In love with the mighty waves above
Lights on the shore, lights from stars
Reflect memories back to sea
Once more before the storm is formed
Of what is to become of shells not found
Is left unanswered
Somewhere below the clouds out loud
Between muffled sounds of thunder
Happy clams alarmed by nothing
Anchored by one foot in mud’s reality
Begin another day of freedom beneath
What of the fantastic ships at salty sea?
Raise the colors to the wind boys!
Churn with the waves towards shore
Crash on rocks to swallow them whole
Sell your souls below before you turn old
Voices lift higher to fill in the hour
Before the songs end in the mist
The power of dawn cracks open
Breaks like an egg in need of fire
Evaporates with the days arrival
Drink in the moment of the dive
So much salt can’t be wrong
Familiar with sand, shells become wise
Stand erect in tides to savor the depths
Suck up the flavor of the day
Currently under investigation by muscles
Too deep to measure as they contemplate
Restraints imposed on them by nature
Gray mouths close tightly in a smile
Clams hold on with one foot in reality
Anchored, shell shocked by tidal wilds
Must we wait for oyster logic
Pressure sets in when air’s depleted
Mud is soft and cloudy under there
Gathering objects in the dark
Can make it easy to forget
Oxygen is needed to catch your breath
To catch a clam you must use sense
Surely there is a compass in the sand
Stationed on terrains still under way
Clams parade oblivious to the obvious
Sounds are heard from up above
Only waves know the meaning
Above, the sea is distorted by light
Below, deep in thought, oceans nap
Clams begin to dance as mollusks
Crustaceans dwell within their boundaries
Debating whether mollusks should have feet
They do this frequently without sleep
Infused with newness, available script ushers me in
Eyes peeled with anticipation for next discoverings
Last easy bend of cane growing country road owns
Entry to rewound time, fibro cement rows of homes
Palm sprinkled, speed decelerates in sleepy streets
Alluring new place charisma, adventure incomplete
Faintly reminiscent of brisk Christmas road trip visit
First time river glimpse brings excitement exquisite
Quaint little town, family pub, caravan park opposite
Mere steps reveal mangrove muddy boat ramp slip
Tinny two horse standard, - biminis seen as high brow
Fishing rods' supple hope supports mates' bonding, tribal
Murk of shallows turn sparkle, close island destinations
Brown armed boaties lower crates to catch crustaceans
Wander past real estate branch (sole agent for miles)
Owner opens door, pulls me in, I admit I'm beguiled
Offers me a place to rent, sixteen steps away, got key
Forty minutes later, I'm signing papers, - it had to be!!
Two years in paradise passed, an idyllic place to dwell
Worked in the big smoke, drove home to Jacobs Well
15th August
' Sanctuary' Contest
Sponsor, Silent One