Sunday, September 26, 2010

Black Oysters

Black Oysters

The rustic women dived,
And collected in the baskets
The black oysters feed
On the breast of muddy sands.

When boiled, the oysters
Opened their doors tightly closed,
To sooth with flesh delicious
The hungry stomachs boors owned.

When the oyster roast,
Served on star tables with spoon,
On to the crest of taste
The rich were taken.

Vitamin ‘E’ oozing
Black oysters
Stimulate pale withered nights
Into red hot throbbing.

Small fishes seen
Whispering the black oysters,
Dreams and pain,
Moist with river water.

Silent in the basket,
Grand black oysters
Open the tales wet,
Unknown to the humans.


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