The Strangest Pregnant Animal Ever, a poem

From curly hair to larger feet
And drooling, dozing, sniffling snores;

From skin tags, spots, and extra heat
And sudden change to teenage pores;

From stomach smashed and bladder squished
And nausea any time awake;

From snacks on which one must subsist
And baths that one must never take;

From ever-spreading stretch mark lines
And complications ev’ry term;

From husband flirts one must decline…

 

You wish you’d never seen That Sperm!

Frilled Shark, a terrible poem

Come with me
To the sea
Where it’s very cold
And wet
And blue
And also deep, fathomless, really dark, dark, black, maybe deep blue, some people say it’s green, others with no color perception call the water purple, and deep
Oh, and it’s cold
So
That is why
I’d die
So high
If I were
A frilled shark

Also I’d die because they carry their babies for 3.5 years.

Frilled Shark

Photo from Wikipedia Commons, ©OpenCage

 

That’s pretty much it.

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

My Mantis, a slightly terrible poem

Have you eaten, my love?
Are you certain?
Don’t mean to be impert’en
But while I’m …erm, squirtin’
I’d rather
Neither
Of us
Lost

Our heads.

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Scientists long believed that female mantises engaged in sexual cannibalism. After the males mounted their partner, deposited their essence, and dismounted; most females then literally bit the male’s head off.

Recent studies of less-invasive means prove that female mantises rarely attack and eat their Baby Daddies in their normal homes nor in their natural surroundings. There is still some debate as to whether the female’s nutritional deficiencies at the time affect things.

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

From Baby Giraffe, a terrible poem

Mummy dear and tall:

I know you love me,

But why did I fall?

Why did I walk once dumped from six feet off the ground

Within the sixty minutes of my entry to this Earth that’s brown and round but not very sound?

(Because I hadn’t walked for 453 to 464 days.)

Yes, that’s why the ground was not very sound;

Though I made a sound when I landed on the dirt

‘ Cause it hurt.

Next time I thank

I’d rather have a doctor’s spank.

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Giraffes have a gestation period of about 15 months, then the baby giraffe falls from his standing mother’s birth canal. It’s a drop of five or six feet. This helps break the umbilical cord and amniotic sac, plus avoid being sat upon by a long-limbed mother.

The babies recover quickly and are ready to walk by the time an hour’s passed.

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Octopussy, a terrible poem

My darling, sumptuous, suctioned
Model of a mop head mother
Take my arm
No, not that one
Nor that
Nor that
Nor that
Nor that
Nor that
Nor that
Nor -wait! There’s the one;
Take it, my Hun,
Hardly knowing how much I love you
My dear
It’s clear
You’ll store the future like a forty-day fridge,
Including my present; though, of me, it’s just a smidge.
Then, hang our darling hybrids round the rocks
It’s Christmas in our summer sea!
Just you and me –
Except, not me.
For, you see
It cannot be.
It’s not you, it’s m- the babies!

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The male octopus uses a special arm to remove his sperm packet, then place it inside the female octopus. After storing the eggs and sperm for a while (forty days for one species), she hangs the eggs from rocks and crevices and wipes them with her mate’s present.

For some reason, the male dies within 3 days of reproducing. The female dies a month after delivering her babies.

Photo Credit:
Masaaki Komori

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Not Just My Verse, Your Two Two Too

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Thanks to Bereaved Single Dad for the tag to continue this Rory inspired epic.

The Mysterious Case of Twas Not Twas!

I am sure, well pretty sure NO, of course I am sure!
Twas not twas, twas not there before!
And yet, here I am looking upon it with widened eyes…
This thing that twasn’t, and yet now it twas a surprise!

Paula of Light Motifs II‘s Addition

When I told my friends what had transpired,
They laughed and said I must be a liar,
For things like THAT surely are not real;
Then it came back and said let’s make a deal.

Fandango of This, That, and The Other‘s Addition

So it wants to make a deal?
Well that does have some appeal.
I asked it, “Whatsit all about?”
And that twas when it started to shout.

Christine of Poetry for Healing

Yes, whatsit all about Alfie?
Do you have bats in your belfry?
Was it this or was it that?
I know ‘twasn’t tit for tat

Kristian of Tales of the Mind of Kristian

Are you following all this closely?
What’s that you say? Mostly?
Well then, you’re far cleverer than I,
When you inherit lunacy, embrace the sky.

Victoria of Just Sayins

Following your twas, I could not twist,
Did you all think, that I had missed?
Betwixt and between all of that,
I am quickly passing your baton back…

Carol Anne of Therapy Bits

What to say here
What to do
I am lost
So now I think its going to be down to you

Sadje of Keep it Alive

This craziness has gone on for far to long
The time has come to make some sense out of this song
If I hold this end of this insanity and you tug from your end
Do you think we can straighten it and make it look out of bend

Di of Pensitivity101

I found that thing lying in the dirt,
All I can say is that it hurt,
What came first? The chick or the egg,
Thank goodness it didn’t come out of my head!

Bereaved Single Dad

In Yorkshire we say a lot of Twas
We also talk a lot of Twaddle
In Germany they say es war
Which makes more sense by far

Chelsea Owens’ Addition

Yet Germans, though great when it comes to cars,
Sound more like mad choking when, “Ist es war.”
So; whether twas twixt, twain, or even twat
I think all this thinking is overwrought.

 

Now! Who’s up for adding the next four lines? Ruth, I choose you!

Raw Poetry

Here I sit in front of a keyboard
and I type on that keyboard
with my fingers but maybe also my toes
that’s so I can eat my sandwich and french fry sauce without getting it in between the keys like last time
which was messy
and bad
sorry, mum

And yet I think I need to write with fingers or toes
or now my tongue
it’s clean
enough
I
think
And yet I think I need to write with whatever because of the need to write which is like an open mouth that needs to vomit
Oh

Maybe that was from the fry sauce.

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Atrociously penned for the brilliant Anisha and her(?) Raw Poetry Contest.

 

Photo Credit:
Alex Iby

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

I Actually Won Something

Great news! I won second place for the poem I submitted to the Annual Bloggers Bash!

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…I’m a bit miffed that “Silent but Tardy” wasn’t a contender, but totally stoked that I actually won something! I’ve included the winning entry below, which I submitted from my motherhood site.

 

Five More Minutes

Five more minutes to sleep alone,
To dress in peace,
To check a phone.

Five more minutes to eat my food,
To eat it warm,
To eat it chewed.

Five more minutes to sit right here,
To read a book,
To disappear.

Five more minutes is not that long,
To feel the guilt,
To feel the wrong;

When

Five more minutes is what I seek

Five more minutes is all I need

Five more minutes, or maybe three,

Is all I long for, to just be me.

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Photo Credit:
Jordan Whitt

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens