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Tue 10 May, 2011 09:33 am
“Oh, I am happy as a clam”,
was what my nice niece said,
It set my mind to musing, till
I see clam clans in beds.
'Clams are shy and taciturn,
don’t jump for joy', I thought,
-and 'do they ever clamor?'
nought!
even in Spring, when a clam boy sings his salty song of love
and he is clam-romantic in his sandy briney bed,
his nature is so different from human boys above,
still, a yearning female will hear his song and willingly be led,
( his gentle clam passion will not turn her red)
as he draws in and then expells
his nutritive sea waters
he sings of handsome clam sons,
and adorable clam daughters,
(propinquity is vital as he bubbles forth his song,
clams don’t get around as much as young folks do above)
Yes, somehow he communicates
-clam girl hears him like a bell,
and she discerns the vision
pulsing from inside his shell,
The gurgling pulses tell her
of a peaceable clam life
if she will just consent to be
his loving clammy wife.
unlike our human lives, so stressful and so frantic
some creatures live contented, beneath a green Atlantic.
@jjorge,
Love it!
But you piqued my interest about clam love life.
Now I know they are often male to begin with, but as they mature become female.
There's a lot going on down there.
@dlowan,
"There's a lot going on down there!"
( this is an INTENTIONAL double entendre, right?)
BTW, I am not happy with this line:
"still, a yearning female will hear his song and willingly be led"
...which owes more to the rhyme scheme than my true intent.
After the fact I think it has a little male chauvinistic flavor that I neither intended nor endorse.
@dlowan,
P.S.
DISCLAIMER:
In truth, I know NOTHING about clams, apart from digging them and eating them. :-)
@jjorge,
Well, hon, they just lie there.
And release eggs and sperm into the water at the same time.
If it hatches, it swims a bit as a nymph form, then beds down, and that's pretty much it.
I also know nothing about clams. But maybe this isn't only about clams? I think one of the reasons I liked this piece was that I can relate to the experience of clam love.
Some, when faced with the honesty love demands, tend to clam up.
I've been with women who just lay there like clams, inviting, but not open. Or perhaps open but not inviting...
@dlowan,
sounds exciting doesn't it! LOL!
@Cyracuz,
"..maybe this isn't only about clams?.."
For me this poem was an enjoyable fantasy and an occasion to riff on multiple themes beginning and ending with the notions of (positive) restraint*, calmness, tranquillity and understatement* (as opposed to extravagance, exaggeration , boisterousness and agitation) in the process of thinking/writing it, sexual, familial and conjugal themes arose.
I love how poetry draws on my conscious thoughts and feelings and inevitably pulls out unconscious or pre-conscious material. In the end a poem can be much like a dream: ie. with multiple meanings, condensation, symbolization etc.
I also love how poetry draws out the associations of others, as you have shared with us above. Thanks for sharing them!!
* traits that I admire and possess insufficiently
@jjorge,
Clamish sex is never festal
since ALL the clam clan is entirely sessile
lying abed and feeling amorous
they eject motile sperm in a manner unglamorous
@dlowan,
As patiently as a bed of oysters.
oysters do what oysters do
much like me and you
@edgarblythe,
edgarblythe wrote:
oysters do what oysters do
much like me and you
YOU may do what oysters do,
But I, it seems, do more than you!
I would not like a green clam
Said Sam I Am
I would not like it on the shell
I would not like the smell
I must tell
Sam I Am
A green clam
I would damn
@edgarblythe,
You could sell green clams
On St. Patrick's day.
drunks and fools would pay
for a few
-which later they'd rue,
on regaining their clarity
they'd think it
a clamity
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