POEM TITLE
Life's Lobster Pot
POEM
Life’s Lobster Pot
At the meeting of the forth and fife,
I stopped to gaze and ponder life.
To pause and seek inspiration
Or find a sign in desperation.
And what I saw unfold,
Was a message disguised in hot and cold.
I saw a deep roaring hot pot
Boil in the shallowness of the sea.
Its steam rose for miles
Burning more than debris.
It contained six lobsters,
Screaming air in vain.
But lobsters don’t have vocal chords
And they can’t process pain.
They’re dead but they’re still alive.
Even burning heat they can survive.
The lobster pot was stewing,
But the breeze was getting fuller.
There was blackness on the sea,
Even the sky was getting duller.
I gazed further outward,
Still pondering life.
And how it ends but still continues
For the lobsters on the fife.
How life boils and toils,
Flickers and flows.
Comes and goes.
Yet continues with hope
That we’ll be able to cope.
Or at the very least
Go in peace.
The lobster pot was put on hold,
The lobsters par-boiled and cold.
Only the message in the pot
Was cooked right on the spot