Crab
When I eat crab, slide the rosy
rubbery claw across my tongue
I think of my mother. She'd drive down
to the edge of the Bay, tiny woman in a
huge car, she'd ask the crab-man to
crack it for her. She'd stand and wait as the
pliers broke those chalky homes, wild-
red and knobby, those cartilage wrists, the
thin orange roof of the back.
I'd come home, and find her at the table
crisply unhousing the parts, laying the
fierce shell on one side, the
soft body on the other. She gave us
lots, because we loved it so much,
so there was always enough, a mound of crab like a
cross between breast-milk and meat. The back
even had the shape of a perfect
ruined breast, upright flakes
white as the flesh of a chrysanthemum, but the
best part was the claw, she'd slide it
out so slowly the tip was unbroken,
scarlet bulb of the feeler—it was such a
kick to easily eat that weapon,
wreck its delicate hooked pulp between
palate and tongue. She loved to feed us
and all she gave us was fresh, she was willing to
grasp shell, membrane, stem, to go
close to dirt and salt to feed us,
the way she had gone near our father himself
to give us life. I look back and
see us dripping at the table, feeding, her
row of pink eaters, the platter of flawless
limp claws, I look back further and
see her in the kitchen, shelling flesh, her
small hands curled—she is like a
fish-hawk, wild, tearing the meat
deftly, living out her life of fear and desire.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
No Crab
Whether it's Crab soup,
or whether it's crab cakes,
whether it's crab puffs
or whether it's crab flakes
crab gumbo or crab dressing,
it's all the same to me,
for crab is crab is crab
and I detest the taste.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Grinning Crab
Come with me, said the fish to the crab
and I will show you a cave where beautiful coral live.
When do we leave, said the crab to the fish
and tell me what I should bring.
Just bring a sense of adventure, said the fish to the crab, and some sun tan oil
You forget, said the crab to the fish, my shell is thick and impenetrable by rays of any kind.
What about the metal-tipped arrows, asked the fish of the crab, from a cheeky cherub?
Oh they don’t stand a chance, said the crab with a grin.
The fish, having eyes that could not blink, felt the molten tears sting his star-crossed eyes.
poem by Vernon Adrian Emuang
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The Sash
The first ones were attached to my dress
at the waist, one on either side,
right at the point where hands could clasp you and
pick you up, as if you were a hot
squeeze bottle of tree syrup, and the
sashes that emerged like axil buds from the
angles of the waist were used to play horses, that
racing across the cement while someone
held your reins and you could feel your flesh
itself in your body wildly streaming.
You would come home, a torn-off sash
dangling from either hand, a snake-charmer—
each time, she sewed them back on with
thicker thread, until the seams of
sash and dress bulged like little
knots of gristle at your waist as you walked, you could
feel them like thumbs pressing into your body.
The next sash was the one Thee, Hannah!
borrowed from her be-ribboned friend
and hid in a drawer and got salve on it,
salve on a sash, like bacon grease on a snake,
God's lard on the ribbon a Quaker girl
should not want, Satan's jism on
silk delicate as the skin of a young girl's genital.
When Hannah gave up satin her father
told her she was beautiful
just as God made her. But all sashes
lead to the sash, very sash of
very sash, begotten, not made, that my
aunt sent from Switzerland—
cobalt ripple of Swiss cotton with
clean boys and girls dancing on it.
I don't know why my mother chose it to
tie me to the chair with, her eye just
fell on it, but the whole day I
felt those blue children dance
around my wrists. Later someone
told me they had found out
the universe is a kind of strip that
twists around and joins itself, and I believe it,
sometimes I can feel it, the way we are
pouring slowly toward a curve and around it
through something dark and soft, and we are bound to
each other.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
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The Mortal One
Three months after he lies dead, that
long yellow narrow body,
not like Christ but like one of his saints,
the naked ones in the paintings whose bodies are
done in gilt, all knees and raw ribs,
the ones who died of nettles, bile, the
one who died roasted over a slow fire—
three months later I take the pot of
tulip bulbs out of the closet
and set it on the table and take off the foil hood.
The shoots stand up like young green pencils,
and there in the room is the comfortable smell of rot,
the bulb that did not make it, marked with
ridges like an elephant's notched foot,
I walk down the hall as if I were moving through the
long stem of the tulip toward the closed sheath.
In the kitchen I throw a palmful of peppercorns into the
saucepan
as if I would grow a black tree from the soup,
I throw out the rotten chicken part,
glad again that we burned my father
before one single bloom of mold could
grow up
out of him,
maybe it had begun in his bowels but we burned his
bowels
the way you burn the long blue
scarf of the dead, and all their clothing,
cleansing with fire. How fast time goes
now that I'm happy, now that I know how to
think of his dead body every day
without shock, almost without grief,
to take it into each part of the day the
way a loom parts the vertical threads,
half to the left half to the right like the Red Sea and you
throw the shuttle through with the warp-thread
attached to the feet, that small gold figure of my father—
how often I saw him in paintings and did not know him,
the tiny naked dead one in the corner,
the mortal one.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
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There is nothing fantastic or ultradimansional about crab grass... unless you are an sf writer, in which case pretty soon you are viewing crab grass with suspicion. What are it's real motives And who sent it here in the first place It only looks like crab grass. That's what they want us to think it is. One day the crab grass suit will fall off and their true identity will be revealed. By then the Pentagon will be full of crab grass and it'll be too late. The crab grass, or what we took to be crab grass, will dictate terms.
quote by Philip K. Dick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Crab
As the little crab climbed
To the top of the basket
Hoping to make an escape
The bigger crabs pulled him down
And when the consignment
Did reach the market place
The Fisherman’s son was delighted
To find a small crab in the bag
He picked it up carefully
Drooling at the thought of soup
But this time the little crab
Reacted fast, he bit the boy’s hand
Falling quickly to the ground
As the child reduced his grip
Undaunted by the crack in his shell
He scuttled away in search of
A safer place, far away from
Fishing baskets, boys and big crabs.
poem by Sandra Martyres
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Visit Malaysia Year Poem - Pulau Ketam (State of Selangor)
pincers, white fluffy flesh
red hot, spicy shells
under our white
plastic hammers
each leg, pincer,
carapace broken
licked clean
the two eyes
now jutting out of
the auspicious
light as flight
red orange shell
so cleaned up of life
so meaningless
and emptied
of existence
a loser of
the world
except for
its rich delicious
steamy white
vein laced flesh
the shells
stripped of all the limbs
straddle the table
play out the animals in us
some are upside down
some in upright position
some helter skelter
loose signatures of the
delicious triumph of a two legged
over a ten legged wonder
now only our hands are
crawling all over the table
grabbing parts, positioning legs,
pincer for hammers
we are nothing
more than dinosaur
when it comes to crabs
they are but fluffy, juicy, spicy,
pulpy, squeaky rich protein to
fill up the stomach
to build the muscles
of our own limbs
more customers coming?
get ready the crabs
get ready the rice
and the hammers
how many of them please?
how many crabs?
ketam ketam ketam
plankwalk that make
our walk sound crab
and.....dinosaur
Ketam is the malay word for crabs. pulau ketam is an island 30 minutes away from port klang in selangor. port klang is about an hour by commuter train from kuala lumpur and the same amount of time if one drives in one's own car. the island is famous for its seafood. the wooden plankwalk to the numerous restaurants makes one's walk sound crab because it goes ketam ketam ketam.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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1954
Then dirt scared me, because of the dirt
he had put on her face. And her training bra
scared me—the newspapers, morning and evening,
kept saying it, training bra,
as if the cups of it had been calling
the breasts up—he buried her in it,
perhaps he had never bothered to take it
off. They found her underpants
in a garbage can. And I feared the word
eczema, like my acne and like
the X in the paper which marked her body,
as if he had killed her for not being flawless.
I feared his name, Burton Abbott,
the first name that was a last name,
as if he were not someone specific.
It was nothing one could learn from his face.
His face was dull and ordinary,
it took away what I’d thought I could count on
about evil. He looked thin and lonely,
it was horrifying, he looked almost humble.
I felt awe that dirt was so impersonal,
and pity for the training bra,
pity and terror of eczema.
And I could not sit on my mother’s electric
blanket anymore, I began to have a
fear of electricity—
the good people, the parents, were going to
fry him to death. This was what
his parents had been telling us:
Burton Abbott, Burton Abbott,
death to the person, death to the home planet.
The worst thing was to think of her,
of what it had been to be her, alive,
to be walked, alive, into that cabin,
to look into those eyes, and see the human
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Daughter Goes To Camp
In the taxi alone, home from the airport,
I could not believe you were gone. My palm kept
creeping over the smooth plastic
to find your strong meaty little hand and
squeeze it, find your narrow thigh in the
noble ribbing of the corduroy,
straight and regular as anything in nature, to
find the slack cool cheek of a
child in the heat of a summer morning—
nothing, nothing, waves of bawling
hitting me in hot flashes like some
change of life, some boiling wave
rising in me toward your body, toward
where it should have been on the seat, your
brow curved like a cereal bowl, your
eyes dark with massed crystals like the
magnified scales of a butterfly's wing, the
delicate feelers of your limp hair,
floods of blood rising in my face as I
tried to reassemble the hot
gritty molecules in the car, to
make you appear like a holograph
on the back seat, pull you out of nothing
as I once did—but you were really gone,
the cab glossy as a slit caul out of
which you had slipped, the air glittering
electric with escape as it does in the room at a birth.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hermit Crab
The hermit crabs life is all but exciting live all alone
and in the sahdows in the bottom of the teary sea
feelings no comfort and no love this crab is all alone
no friends and allways hurting everyone
he use to have friends till the day he found him self this shell of dark sleeping alone
and being alone this crab used that bad to fell worse
we the other crabs of life the ones that live a full happy life
need to find him/her and bring this hermit out of it's shell
show to the hermit that talking isn't all bad
but being alone is talk about your problems dont hide in a shell
Manteca
Written by dizzy gillespie and gil fuller
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goin' Home
There\\\'s plenty of food
on the table
Lots of love in the house
The children all do what
they\\\'re able to do
We got so much to be happy about.
I got a woman standing beside me
She really knows
how to stand by her man
She\\\'s strong and she\\\'s soft
and she\\\'s honest to me
She really helps me
to be a good man.
But nothing is perfect
in God\\\'s perfect plan
Look in the shadow to see
He only gave us the good things
so we\\\'d understand
What life without them would be.
There\\\'s plenty of wheat
on the prairies
Lots of coal in the mines
We got soldiers so strong
they can bury their dead
And still not go back
shooting blind.
There\\\'s women and men
on the workforce
Doing forty hours
plus overtime
So the hostages
held at the airport
Can come home
to something worthwhile.
But nothing is perfect
in God\\\'s perfect plan
Look in the shadow to see
He only gave us the good things
so we\\\'d understand
What life without them would be.
And there\\\'s plenty of food
on the table
Lots of love in the house
The children all do
what they\\\'re able to do
We got so much to be happy about.
I got a woman standing beside me
She really knows
how to stand by her man
She\\\'s strong and she\\\'s soft
and she\\\'s honest to me
It really helps me
to be a good man.
But nothing is perfect
in God\\\'s perfect plan
He only gave us the good things
so we\\\'d understand.
No, nothing is perfect
in God\\\'s perfect plan.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God's Perfect Plan
There's plenty of food
on the table
Lots of love in the house
The children all do what
they're able to do
We got so much to be happy about.
I got a woman standing beside me
She really knows
how to stand by her man
She's strong and she's soft
and she's honest to me
She really helps me
to be a good man.
But nothing is perfect
in God's perfect plan
Look in the shadow to see
He only gave us the good things
so we'd understand
What life without them would be.
There's plenty of wheat
on the prairies
Lots of coal in the mines
We got soldiers so strong
they can bury their dead
And still not go back
shooting blind.
There's women and men
on the workforce
Doing forty hours
plus overtime
So the hostages
held at the airport
Can come home
to something worthwhile.
But nothing is perfect
in God's perfect plan
Look in the shadow to see
He only gave us the good things
so we'd understand
What life without them would be.
And there's plenty of food
on the table
Lots of love in the house
The children all do
what they're able to do
We got so much to be happy about.
I got a woman standing beside me
She really knows
how to stand by her man
She's strong and she's soft
and she's honest to me
It really helps me
to be a good man.
But nothing is perfect
in God's perfect plan
He only gave us the good things
so we'd understand.
No, nothing is perfect
in God's perfect plan.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back Home
Yeah yeah yeah
Well Im going back this summer to ohio
Im gonna seek out all my friends Ive always known
Im goin back to that farm that I remember
Well Im goin to spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Im gonna get up every morning before the roosters
Ill run downstairs fix my breakfast all alone
Ill milk those cows feed the chickens and the horses
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Ill eat everything that ma puts on the table
When I get back you wont believe how Ive grown
Ill hit the sack early everynight thinkin bout tomorrow whoa oh
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home, back home, back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Thats what Im gonna do thats where Im gonna be, thats this summer
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Gonna get up, gonna get up, gonna get up every morning
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Hey woo feels okay back home
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did I Say That?
So this is what it feels like
To be the one left behind
To give it all you've got, then find
You've already changed your mind
And this is what it sounds like
Crying on the bed that we both made
Waiting for a sign that you just can't give me
Any kind of sign
I don't want to be here wide-awake
Clinging to a love that can't be saved
Hanging off the edge of every word
That you say
And so I asked myself, "Do I love you so much
That I'm willing to let you go?"
At the tip of my tongue the answer was "yes"
But, at the botoom of my heart I'm wondering...
Did I say that?
Did I say that?
Sometimes you know I over react
And what I say is not a matter of fact
And I wish that I could take it all back
And you know I'd drag myself through fire at your side
And you know the gates of Heaven are surely open wide
And I need some sympathy here
And I need someone to call my own
I'm standing in the the light of my mistakes
And begging you, "come home."
And I know you need some time to run and hide
But the truth is hard to swallow when you're choking on your pride
And so I asked myself, "Do I love you so much
That I'm willing to let you go?"
At the tip of my tongue the answer was "yes"
But, at the botoom of my heart I'm wondering...
Did I say that?
Did I say that?
Sometimes you know I over react
And what I say is not a matter of fact
And I wish that I could take it all back
But I said that
And I wish that I could take it all back
And I need some sympathy here
And I want a love to call my own
I want to take you in the back seat now
And slowly drive you home
And I know you need some time to run and hide
But the truth is hard to swallow when you're choking on your pride
I don't want to be this wide-awake Fighting for a love that I can't save
And hanging off the edge of every word you say
Knowing that it might make me cry
I don't want to be this complicating
You can drag it out but I'll be waiting
I stumbled on "I love you" tonight
But it sounded like goodbye
Did I say that?
Did I say that?
Did I tell you that I loved you cause it
Would have been a matter of fact?
Did I say that?
This time I'm not letting go
Did I say that?
This time I'll have and I'll hold
Did I tell you that I loved you cause it
Would have been a matter of fact?
Did I say that?
This time I'm walking through fire
Did I say that?
This time I'll feed my desire
Did I say that?
This time I'll stand by your side
Did I say that?
This time I will be your pride
Did I say that?
This time I'm not letting go
Did I say that?
This time I'll have and I'll hold
Did I say that?
This time I'm walking through fire
Did I say that?
And I wish that I could take it all back
So this is what it feel like
To be the one left behind
To give it all you've got then find
That you've already changed your mind
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snail Shell
Sir hand
Or is it maam
I fell out of my right place again
And you
Considered me
And now Im where a snail has to be
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Was it something you would do for anybody?
Was it what youd only do for me?
I need to know because you see
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Friend
Look what you gave
And how can you ever be repaid?
How may I give you a hand
From the position at your feet where I stand?
So let me thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Id like to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Was it something you would do for anybody?
Was it what youd only do for me?
I need to know because you see
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Snail shell
Thank you
Snail shell
Thank you
Ah
Ah
Ah
Was it something you would do for anybody?
Was it what youd only do for me?
Or was it something where you acted when you saw the need
And knew that there would be a way the act could be repaid
And so it may, but for today
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing Is Perfect
Theres plenty of food on the table
Lots of love in the house
The children all do what theyre able to do
We got so much to be happy about.
I got a woman standing beside me
She really knows how to stand by her man
Shes strong and shes soft and shes honest to me
She really helps me to be a good man.
But nothing is perfect in gods perfect plan
Look in the shadow to see
He only gave us the good things so wed understand
What life without them would be.
Theres plenty of wheat on the prairies
Lots of coal in the mines
We got soldiers so strong they can bury their dead
And still not go back shooting blind.
Theres women and men on the workforce
Doing forty hours plus overtime
So the hostages held at the airport
Can come home to something worthwhile.
But nothing is perfect in gods perfect plan
Look in the shadow to see
He only gave us the good things so wed understand
What life without them would be.
And theres plenty of food on the table
Lots of love in the house
The children all do what theyre able to do
We got so much to be happy about.
I got a woman standing beside me
She really knows how to stand by her man
Shes strong and shes soft and shes honest to me
It really helps me to be a good man.
But nothing is perfect in gods perfect plan
He only gave us the good things so wed understand.
No, nothing is perfect in gods perfect plan.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet Of Ignorance
Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.
Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.
There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses adn the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.
I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?
Anonymous submission.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dream
i like this to be simple.
she was tiny and smooth
like a shell
(not the shell of an egg)
a sea
shell, she has a song
from the wind
it is sad, but i love it,
her, she is the other woman,
on a bamboo bed,
she my time unexplained
i make love to her
she pretends, i am hurt,
but it does not matter,
i am lonely, and feeling so lost,
i am a ship
needing an ocean not an anchor
i have no port
of origin and arrival,
that night, the sphinx
was shattered, and the following morning,
she was dead
asleep, she was so exhausted like a slave
woman, feeding me the love
that i have not tasted,
i was a puppy, yelping for help,
for meat,
and then i wake up
early, for some
anxiety, what time is it,
where am i,
i am leaving, i offered her
not flowers, i planted a kiss,
it was not part of the
contract, but just the same
i kissed her, for she is dead asleep
dreaming perhaps of the
man she really loved.
i put on my pants
combed my hair, and silently
left the room, locked the door,
and be myself again.
it is as simple as that, back home,
i do not need any complication.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The God of Love Speaks to Man…
I gave you hands to grasp and work
With finesse, deftly, and eat food;
I thought you'll fold your hands and pray,
And thank me for the gifts I gave!
But you use hands to hurt and kill,
And do all sinful things your way!
I gave you legs that carry you,
And stand upright and walk my ways;
I thought you'll genuflect and pray,
And thank me for all that I do;
But you tread upon evil paths
And leave my tenets, go astray!
I gave you eyes upon your face
To see the good world I had made;
I thought you'll read the word of mine,
And live your life in accordance.
But you use eyes to see the muck
That spoils your heart and mind and soul!
I gave you ears to hear sweet sounds
Of birds and animals I found;
I thought you'll hear my divine voice
And thank me for the gift of life;
But you hear noise that's deafening,
And songs that satisfy your lust.
I gave you tongue and mouth to speak
Kind words to all and love brethren;
I thought you'll eat the foods you should,
And thank me for the taste of things;
But you speak lies and blaspheme God
And eat substances of abuse!
I gave you mind to think aright,
And wonder how awesome is God!
I thought you'll keep your brain flawless,
And thank me for your reasoning power;
But you take drugs that give you highs
And waste your precious time I gave!
I gave you heart to empathize,
And feel the anguish of others;
I thought you'll have remorse for sins
And ask forgiveness from the Lord;
But your heart harbours evil thoughts
Those wreck your mind, body and soul!
Remember man, I made you out
Of clay but breathed life into it;
And gave a soul and my semblance
To know my love that's infinite;
Love made me make you with great care,
And yearns to have you back wholesome!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 22-10-2012
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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