SAMPLER SUNDAY: Bode to the Lobster (Silly/Crappy/Poem)

My very first, very rough, attempt at a poem. I was inspired by my dinner and dedicate it to the two lobsters I ate that night. Bless their inspirational.... shells? Your suggestions and opinions are greatly appreciated!

The lobster spoke and told me

No, it came on slow and so

Quiet, then he came out boom

Ing, clopping his fingers and

Snapping, his thumbs were too slow

Though, and my fingers were swift

Still, he spilt my butter and

Stained my shirt, juiced the lemon

And then pummeled my fork.

No, I return his blare but

Crack, with a meat rod for my

Attack, he screams all red and

Shrill, my hand drops down the meat

Harvester, for my ears ring

Loud, till my hands cover up both

Tight, he stops for the time I

Say, you have no right, to take

My fork and poking device.

Red devil spits his juices piping

Hot, fists grab his pincer arms

Twist and wind till his briars pinch

My thumb, his bloody armored joint

Falls, and the lobster wails, my

Arm you pig! I’m less a shell.

Steamed with rage, my lobster drops

Dead, from shock and hate whilst I

Squeeze the butter, lemon zest

Burns my wounds as the butter

makes him swell juicy with salt in

The fiery crustacean’s muscle lumps.

The white meat on my pallet

Is cooked to perfection

I win, I say through chews and

Gulps, your shell’s so soft now no need

For sharp utensils you’ve knocked

Away, leave me to eat my

Hot, summertime ocean grouch.

I’ve outsmarted my prey with

No pleading prayer, though I bless

His heart for being a delight.