trinket

A poem about a society's addiction to histrionics. That, and a severe case of crabs

It was the whining of the wheel which soothed the tiny crab

Building boulders out of tiny little grains of sand

And groaning all the way through the wistful and the drab

Rained crumbs into clouds with his heart shaped hands

 

 

Romancing - oh! - the gilded stars in their soulful heaven

The tiny little crab sat anchored in a bog

And fiddling with the salt believing it was leaven

Struck stones for a fire... though it bellowed out fog

 

 

‘To the moon’, cried the crab, ‘I do swear my devotion’

And it rippled on the shore as the winds swept by

Mounting sighs on the waves of syrup soaked emotion

It was art - pure art, in the little crab’s eye

 

 

And a swell rose up then a swell sunk down

In dire sympathy with the little crab’s pain

There was spooning, there was swooning, there was kissing in the town

There were sirens in the heart; though vacant was a brain...

 

 

All the “oohs...” and the “aahs...” in the world pleased the crab

The rosey agonising - it eased his bleeding chest

‘Til at last he did sprawl on a claret stained slab

Waving gulls to his belly, and gifting them his breast

 

 

Yet the little crab just smiled - having satisfied his quest:

Lying there and dying, so artfully depressed

 

 

Author's Note

One of a series of things I've written over the years, looking outward at the drunkenness of the tide. People do funny things when they're drunk.

Reviews

[B]

It's quite funny and using a crab is genius here

[Cherrie Palmer]

your images are vivid and laid out in a most intriguing way

[charlie]

Hello Cherrie Palmer. Thanks to you for taking time :)

[Ink Seductress]

This was such a beautiful piece, can't wait to read more.

[charlie]

Thanks! You can find them here: http://www.writerscafe.org/thatchapcharlie

[PhoenixDown]

Ah.
I am in fact quite partial to this.
Beautifully written.
Do not stop writing.

[charlie]

I'm sure we've all had our moments, only some allow their moments to keep momentary while some hunker down and, well...

[PhoenixDown]

An old German woman once told me "When you stop moving, you rust..."

[charlie]

Ido Portal

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, they do...love the metaphor----the crab giving himself to the gulls and feeling it is some kind of art to die...

people seem to do the same...and often kill themselves with the tides of booze.

also reminds me of sylvia plath's great lines "dying is an art. like everything else, i do it exceptionally well"

the crab heard the oohs and aahs...for his antics...as do the drunken people who think they are entertaining...:)))

[charlie]

oh Jacob - the crab did so much than hear the oohs and aahs... he felt them. He FELT them! :)