Crabby Poems - Poems about Crabby

a crabby courtesan does not do well when her meanness is seen by clientele the one I knew named angry night crawler Nell was so grouchy, she was a very hard sell the Madame found her a new place...Read the rest...

B follows A And C proceeds D It's a formula older than time The lowest sink of debauchery to the ilks Of a sort seem sublime A pail full of Crabs Will stay to the brim Each holding the Other In place That...Read the rest...

Art, poetry, cartooning, gardening, and love of life keep me going. When I want to give up, when I am depleted and defeated I pull my resources together and we take a nap. Replenishing ourselves in a couple...Read the rest...

I'll give you a chance to explain Why there's always so much pain In your heart that you are spreading There's always a storm that's heading To everyone that you meet You used to be so upbeat Full of happiness and...Read the rest...

Crabby morning He looked down into the toilet bowl had shat and flushed, 80-year-old going to waste down a drain and into the sea. 70 years ago when he lived on a farm human and Animal waste was...Read the rest...

To the fish market she'd been fetchin', Now her stomach linin' stretchin', Must have been the crabs she ate, Three crustaceans gone from her plate, ...Read the rest...

Yes you read the title right But let me shred some light It happened in 1980 when I worked on Madison Avenue The Receptionist was going to buy live crab for dinner Well as a friend would, I accompanied...Read the rest...

We are going on a trip to the British Isles and Channel Island of Guernsey and Normandy. This sure should be quite a cruise. Here is my first poem I am writing about it even though I have not...Read the rest...

When wrinkles start appearing Getting deeper by the day With liver spots accruing And the hair is going grey The early morning aches and pains A stomach growing flabby The crows feet and the flatulence No wonder you feel crabby...Read the rest...

This poem was written by an old man who died in the geriatric Ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Neb. He left nothing Of value, only this poem which I thought had...Read the rest...

as the low tide sets ...Read the rest...

The way that you’re crying, You sound like you’re dying… You can’t get enough of that food! And then, when I feed you, You say, “I don’t need you!” And you’re in another bad mood! Stop trying to bite me! I think...Read the rest...