the crabs ran no
it was not Easter Tuesday in Tobago
no novelty crab race
with thousands of tourist all over the place
they were running to lay
millions of eggs along the bay
they were running to get away
from ravenous bags of crab-catchers
from Sunday tables of callalloo eaters
from plates of curry crab and dumpling
running for their life
running for dear life
running with their precious cargo
of future cradling crablings
destined to be fodder
for fishes and birds and other
natural predators the focus of their
fetes and festivals of frenzied feeding
how many will survive to grow
to adulthood to be enticed from holes
to be seduced from safety under earth
into bamboo joints to be caught
their freedom cut short
like suffering slaves of old
tied up tight with torturous string
hung up in bundles on bamboo poles
or held out in the imploring
hand of a roadside hawker
enduring heat and hunger
from shady forest ground
to open searing sun
victims of the curse
of the ravages of commerce
waiting to be sold
who cares
who cares about his brother
who cares about crustacea
to count the population
who cares for conservation
how many studies have been done
to determine its role
its niche in the ecology
who cares in this country
to advocate its value in the chain
to quantify the quota caught and sold
to quantify the annual toll
say crab and is only food on mankind brain
even though crab hardly have meat to eat
they like to crack the gundy with their teeth
the weapon meant for its protection
is the object of its destruction
the irony of its vulnerability to man
poor crab
red crab blue crab rain crab hairy crab
no discrimination
no distinction same condition
no one cares its catch to regulate
perhaps we will when it’s too late
from under ground in coconut estate
to coconut oil-down on pepper plate
from eating dasheen in dasheen field
to dasheen bush in Sunday meal
from brackish water of mangrove
to hot water on stove
no permit no season
no pity no reason
they say crab can’t done
worth they say crab have none
crab not worthy of consideration
crab not worthy of conservation
where are the conservationists
where are the environmentalists
where is the society
for prevention of cruelty
to animals in this country
who cares in this country
the crabs ran no
it was not Easer Tuesday in Tobago
it was crab running in Mayaro
Copyright ©2001 by G. Newton V. Chance
- G. NEWTON V. CHANCE
- George Newton Vivian Chance (Trinidad and Tobago) -- member of the Poet Society of Trinidad and Tobago, http://poetssocietytt.blogspot.com/ and the World Poets Society, http://world-poets.blogspot.com/ -- born in Tobago on 3rd March 1957. While residing at Rio Claro was inspired to write over a hundred poems at the turn of the Millennium. Hobbies include playing wind instruments, building computers, observing nature, reading and writing poetry. Believes that the power of a song is in its ability to evoke emotions by the marriage of lyric and music but that music without lyric can be just as powerful, that lyric without music can also be just as powerful, that there is music in the lyric and that lyric can be simple yet profound. Also, in this the age of computers, would like to model his lines after simple and efficient code and, analogous to Object Oriented Programming, achieve most of his imagery from nouns and verbs, avoiding the bloat and excess of unnecessary adjectives. This is what he aspires to attain in his poetry.
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