Crabby Poems - Poems about Crabby

rantankerous attitude vinegarish and waspy crabby and crusty...

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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 to dwell No one knows what happened to nasty old Nell...

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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 none should struggle Perchance to escape the fate some have Chosen to face As the pails contents Scramble and roil And the water before them Comes...

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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 of hours, so we can wake up and spend time playing with an imagination that knows she needs rest for renewal, reflection,...

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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 joy Where is that fun loving boy That was known for spreading cheer Now it is just hate and fear That's infecting our whole...

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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 used as a fertiliser the waste had been useful potatoes grew big as did cabbages. He had read the Chines collected stuff...

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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, Now poor Grechin's rechin'....

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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 her We entered the Butcher, and there were array of kinds of meat and live crabs on Eighth Avenue and West...

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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 been there yet. Here goes. Crabby Walking Though the Abbey by James Thomas Horn before we go bye. Can't leave London without having fish...

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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...

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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 a very strong Message and wanted to share with you soupers. ...

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as the low tide sets sand bubbler emerge burrow ...

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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 that you might be… A little too cruel and crabby! No matter what I say, I’ll adore you anyway! You’ll always be my...

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