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hermit crab
never at home
for long
Isssa- Snail, always at home
S I N Dec 2019
The snail so slowly climbs a
Mountain, past thickets and brushes and
Branches; climbing the ***** up to the
Apex, past the fountain and din of the
Fallen water; inexorably leaving its slimy
Wake behind it; greasy yellow hue of the
Sun reflecting in the spilled oil
Katatsumuri
sorosoro nobore
Fuji no yama
Carmen Jane Sep 2019
Bravely you step on the round rocks
Ignoring the sharp ones
Loudly you sing for the snail
In hopes it will show it's head
And when it starts crawling
You'll hop on its shell, hoping
For the best ride of your life
You just know, with you, it'll fly!
Then the spirals of the shell
Will put you under a spell
You'll color the leaves of the trees
In all fall colors,as you please
You'll do your famous shrugs
Plant upside down some bulbs
In hopes that it will grow
On the other side of the world!
Snail, snail, me and you, we'll never fail
Snail, snail, inhale, exhale...
The uniVerse Jun 2019
I'm sorry Mr. snail for stepping on your home
it wasn't intentional I'm just accident prone
in my defence, it was really dark
and you had stopped short on the path
but really that's not an excuse
for gods, green earth is for everyone's use
so please accept this humble poem
as way of apology for destroying your home.
So difficult to see the poor little snails in the dark after its rained.
Donna Apr 2018
I saw a tiny
snail crawlimg on grey pavements
Wearing a rucksack

Looks like his on a
gap year to climb a mountain
But his really slow

I think he needs a
pair of rollar skates so he
can zoom much faster

But then he will miss
out on his moments , so slow
is most probably good

As he crawls along
he looks to the left and sees
beautiful green trees

As he looks to the
right he sees a beautiful
park full of green trees

Now which way should he
go left or right but then he looks
straight ahead and smiles

Because he knew by
going with the flow he can
still look left or right

I watched the snail crawl
on by and learnt something new
'To go with the flow'
As I'm getting older I more content with my life and don't argue no more even if tempted at times it not worth all the hag, so going with the flow is best way ***
I also saw my first little small today :)
Blois Oct 2017
Today I feel like a snail
who took forty years
to cross a road to find
that the other side was
the same.  And you don't
want to deal with the rage
of a tired snail.
It is sad to find yours is
such an unglamorous totem.

Tomorrow I will feel
like an old philosopher.
I might even go as far
as to offer advise
(tiresome and languid),
and will talk about my
great and epic drift
through the great gray dessert.
And you will say,
here's a wise man,
without knowing that
everything was a mistake.
That it still is.

I warn you, I can change
expressions, seamlessly.
Remember this, cats can't
smile, they can laugh or
destroy it's world,
with the furious sorrow
and as slowly
as a tired mollusk.
And they will try.
Kevin J Taylor Jul 2017
I was walking down the road
Just as happy as can be
And all the leaves upon the trees
Were waving back at me

I saw a curly snail
As he stretched to greet his day
Then headed down the road with me
Then stopped to stretch again

I saw a pretty sparrow
She was perched upon a wire
She sang a song—I sang along
We made a lovely choir

The snail conducted from a twig—
Just so, our song began
“Happy Birthday to You!”
Did you hear us as we sang?

We had a happy party
As we danced around—We three!
And we wished you Happy Birthday!
Just as HAPPY as can be!
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
Vexren4000 Apr 2017
Slowly creeping along,
Layers of discarded detritus,
It's reality the muck before it,
The muck its haven,
No concern for human qualms,
Unless the curious child,
Comes forth to crush the snail between their fingers,
Proving that,
even the mud,
Holds no refuge for the creature,
Trying to retreat from the surface.

©BAS
K Balachandran Jan 2017
A sprightly snail crawls,
etching a message as it moves;
cryptic conundrum.
Certain things are unknowable
Poetic T Jul 2016
Little shell how you hold tight a home away
from home, fitting snuggly as you slowly gradually
take upon the world one movement at a time,
never in a hurry to get yourself there.

You draw upon your surroundings, palette of
silver in the travels of here to there.
That little shell you collect yourself within, when
tiredness takes hold. Resting your tired self in bed.

Awoken and on the move you take on your journey,
the trails left yesterday. Behind they are, so forward
you do go with a casual look and off you go.
Little one a journey of a lifetime a garden you walk by.

"Daddy look there is a silver trail,

"That's a snails trail petal,

"It shiny daddy.

"Its so they don't get lost, like breadcrumbs in
the woods, so they know where they crawled before.


In the grass a journey still calmly slithers on,
This forest of grass taller than even the shell that
he carries upon his little back. Unseen by those above
but he worries not he just gradually slithers on.
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