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Today I accidentally stepped on a snail on the sidewalk in front of our house. And I thought, I too am like that snail. I build a defensive wall around myself, a 'shell' if you will. But my shell isn't made out of a hard, protective substance. Mine is made out of tinfoil and paper bags.

Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
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Slowly And Surely

slowly but surely
and surely is slow is
and slowly is surely is
a snail climbing its way
up riding upon the merits
of its saliva
slowly, slowly,
winning whining
whining winning
till all of them drop
dead and slowly but surely
does the snail take its pace
as the rabbit
watches upon the tease
of sleep

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Made Me Choose

it was a case of choosing
a stone, a snail, a hammer

i chose the hammer
just that
i never used it to drive a nail
to smash a snail
to break a stone

i chose the hammer and kept it
just that
i left it in the house
(bought a house five years ago)
i walked away
and then i whistled my way
in the woods

just that

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Self Spent

got this small self
small as a snail
slow
pacing like that old snail
that you know
something that you did not
touch
because of pity
got this tiny conscience
like a speck of dust
it is too small and perhaps
of lesser value
than any other self
in this lonely nook
i do not think anymore
how to spend it well
i got a day
or just a second
and i am spending it all
till i am no more.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The 23rd Psalm Of The Lowly Snail

the snail shall not want
it shall lie down in green ponds
it shall reside beside still waters
it shall restore its flesh
it shall be lead in the paths of wetness for your name's sake

it will fear no evil
for you are with it
its hand shall comfort it
and it shall prepare a leaf before it in the presence of all the other insects
its saliva runneth over
it shall anoint its snail with the rainwater

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Born to Work

I wasn’t born to work you know,
Not like a snail is born to slime,
Pecuniary incarceration.....
That should be a crime!

I don’t do any damage,
To your veggies or your flowers
Yet I’m bound to work, not free to roam
For years (and by the hour!)

I wasn’t born to work you know,
I’d rather be a snail or slug
Inflated monthly targets
Don’t mean much when you’re a bug.

I know a slug is not a bug
So pedants please stand down,
Poetic licence there I cite,
So loose that crazy frown!

[...] Read more

poem by Cathie Tufnail
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The Flower of Mending

(To Eudora, after I had had certain dire adventures.)

When Dragon-fly would fix his wings,
When Snail would patch his house,
When moths have marred the overcoat
Of tender Mister Mouse,

The pretty creatures go with haste
To the sunlit blue-grass hills
Where the Flower of Mending yields the wax
And webs to help their ills.

The hour the coats are waxed and webbed
They fall into a dream,
And when they wake the ragged robes
Are joined without a seam.

My heart is but a dragon-fly,
My heart is but a mouse,

[...] Read more

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Evening

'Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track,
And gone to its nest is the wren,
And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back,
Clings to the bowed bents like a wen.

The shepherd has made a rude mark with his foot
Where his shadow reached when he first came,
And it just touched the tree where his secret love cut
Two letters that stand for love's name.

The evening comes in with the wishes of love,
And the shepherd he looks on the flowers,
And thinks who would praise the soft song of the dove,
And meet joy in these dew-falling hours.

For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love,
Where nothing can hear or intrude;
It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove,
In beautiful green solitude.

poem by John Clare
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A Story About Guilt and Pity...

there are two kinds of people in this world. You know it. The swindler and the swindled. The one who felt swindled and the one who never admits that he swindled.They are brothers.

a man of high rank, feeling guilty about his rise to the skies, the lonely eagle
that eats monkeys for lunch and dinner and shares it to no one.

descends to the plains
walk on the grass and degrades
its being to be with
the simplest creature, the worm and the snail,

thinking that these two deserve
to be raised from their
lowly, damp, slow
and dark state,

only to be infected by the
virus of the worm
the bacteria of the snail

and these lowly creatures

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Change In Recurrence

I

I stood at the gate of the cot
Where my darling, with side-glance demure,
Would spy, on her trim garden-plot,
The busy wild things chase and lure.
For these with their ways were her feast;
They had surety no enemy lurked.
Their deftest of tricks to their least
She gathered in watch as she worked.

II

When berries were red on her ash,
The blackbird would rifle them rough,
Till the ground underneath looked a gash,
And her rogue grew the round of a chough.
The squirrel cocked ear o'er his hoop,
Up the spruce, quick as eye, trailing brush.
She knew any tit of the troop

[...] Read more

poem by George Meredith
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