Poem for Poetry Thursday
Happy last Poetry Thursday for 2006! Since it is the end of the year, I've been too busy to write something new. So it came down to a choice between a poem about maternity leave or a writing exercise about lobsters.
I don't know exactly where this quirky poem came from, but it's told from the point of view of a lobster. And I'm quite sure that this one will never see the light of day again.
Enjoy the lobsters!
Lobster Love
Even a blind lobster finds a mollusk or two, you say,
bold as an August tide along the Maine coast.
You sit beside me and watch boats circle overhead,
dead fish and bottom-dwelling invertebrates,
our friends, swirl into a mini-vortex while lowly laborers
drop their traps in the waters above.
I have never loved another the way that I love you:
hopelessly, complicatedly, crazed.
We’ve tunneled together through the fronds of seaweed
and walked along the bottom feeding
as if we were the only two crustaceans in the Atlantic Ocean.
Someday we’ll settle among the cobble
but for now we’ll keep plodding.
All night a slow-moving rain raises the tide.
Deep between the mud and rocks
we shed our fragile shells and listen
to waters parting in our shallow inlet,
knowing our soft shells crack and our claws snap off
if handled without care, without love.
I don't know exactly where this quirky poem came from, but it's told from the point of view of a lobster. And I'm quite sure that this one will never see the light of day again.
Enjoy the lobsters!
Lobster Love
Even a blind lobster finds a mollusk or two, you say,
bold as an August tide along the Maine coast.
You sit beside me and watch boats circle overhead,
dead fish and bottom-dwelling invertebrates,
our friends, swirl into a mini-vortex while lowly laborers
drop their traps in the waters above.
I have never loved another the way that I love you:
hopelessly, complicatedly, crazed.
We’ve tunneled together through the fronds of seaweed
and walked along the bottom feeding
as if we were the only two crustaceans in the Atlantic Ocean.
Someday we’ll settle among the cobble
but for now we’ll keep plodding.
All night a slow-moving rain raises the tide.
Deep between the mud and rocks
we shed our fragile shells and listen
to waters parting in our shallow inlet,
knowing our soft shells crack and our claws snap off
if handled without care, without love.
Comments
Anyway, I really enjoyed this. Warmed up my heart on this cold morning.
It's very well-written and creative.
You are too funny!
--D.--
This reminds me that I need to write a poem from the perspective of the squirrels in my backyard.
We’ve tunneled together through the fronds of seaweed
and walked along the bottom feeding
as if we were the only two crustaceans in the Atlantic Ocean.
How could anyone not love that?
So, let me get this straight, your Wednesday poem is a poem for Poetry Thursday, and your Thursday poem isn't? :)
Thanks for the feedback everyone. Originally, I put this poem away and thought it was too silly to be seen. But now I'm giving it a second look.
Thanks for quoting me back to me :)