Short Crawdads Poems
Short Crawdads Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Crawdads by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Crawdads by length and keyword.
take some shrimp, crabs, crawdads, clams
and corn on the cob
a lobster and smoke saugage
and boil it for me
spread on a table
say it's done
yes!
cool waters gurgling
across seven soft sandstones
coy crawdads cache
written January 17, 2022
written for "Nature Haiku with Alliteration" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Tania Kitchin
syllables checked by PS
I remember
running into the woods
free spirit
no worries
picking berries from the vine
eating peaches plucked from the tree
catching crawdads in the creek
taking in the smells of nature
watching life transform
in front of me
She squats beside the water's edge, playing,
tadpoles and crawdads fleeing
from fat probing fingers.
Sunlight sparkles on the river ripples,
caressing a sun burnt face
and freckled pixie nose.
Contentment - a child at peace with nature,
living on the brink of joy
with sand between her toes.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, May 30, 2014
Leaving the train left us rattled
braising sounds abruptly heightened
my senses measured completely
beneath sullen moments within
quiet calmness thee essence of
Arlington cemetery the hidden forestry
catering to tiny mounds and trees
industrial findings nestled crawdads
flew out sparingly creating winged mesh
emptiness covered in insects flesh
wheep wheep
whee whee whee whee whee
crickets and birds
chirping and tweeting at nine p.m.
my front porch sounds like a bog
we are close to a marsh
mosquitoes verify this
bull frogs take up their violins
crawdads hum
big dog and I sit on the porch, listening
breathing in the Kansas night air
enjoying natural orchestra of the evening
the sky darkens
now there is silence
A barefoot boy on an old dirt road
Kicking dust up as he went
His lips all puckered, whistling a tune
He was happy and content
He carried a bucket by the bail
Had a cane pole on his back
And under his arm, all wrapped up tight
Was a burlap gunny sack
“Where are you going with all that stuff?”
I asked as he skipped on by
“I’m headed down to the Jack-Knife Creek
To catch Crawdads for a pie”
~
deep in the woodlands
surrounded by pine and birch
live deer; buck and doe
~
where creeks trickle soft
bedded with stones and sand, frogs
and crawdads exist
~
under moss and fern
hide reptiles, spiders, insects
who don’t come from dens
~
amid the chatter
of crickets and forest sounds
come howls of the night
~
woodsy welcoming
sings the animals who play
graceful and peaceful
~
take some shrimp, and crabs
and corn on the cob
add smoke saugage, crawdads
and maybe a lobster and clams
boil it till the ingrediants
turn bright orange or red
through it all on a table
and make sure that all are feed
no plates or forks
napkins thats for sure
make sure all the shells
are properly disposed
when the parties over
and everything is gone
then you know forever
what they call a low country boil
FLOURED SHRIMP
======================= ======================
.
.
.
.
. STEAMED CRAWDADS
Trumpet-like lilies by the lake
preen for the flamboyant flamingo,
sifting through the murky waters,
searching for algae and shrimp
where crawdads click and clatter.
While silvery fish glide stealthily
leaving barely a ripple behind,
a chorus of frogs’ croaks
echo like the whining twang
of a plucked banjo string.
Dragonflies skim the water’s surface
as their translucent wings shimmer
like gems in the sunlight,
dart about the amaranth lilies
waltzing in the summertime breeze.