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!


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

33 thoughts on “Octopussy, a terrible poem

  1. S. Chersis July 14, 2019 / 1:53 am

    I did not expect to learn something at this hour–but I did and I enjoyed it!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Bruce Goodman July 14, 2019 / 2:09 am

    I always wondered what that special arm I had was for. Thank goodness I never found out otherwise I’d be long dead. And yes – your poem is terrible (and entertaining).

    Liked by 2 people

    • Chelsea Owens July 14, 2019 / 8:00 am

      Don’t tell me you never used that appendage. Who’s going to inherit your stories and songs?

      Liked by 1 person

      • Bruce Goodman July 14, 2019 / 10:48 am

        I think the stories and music etc etc will all go down the plughole on my demise! Sort of like the majority of stuff Bach and his friends wrote. There seems to be a prevalent notion at this time in the West that one should write for posterity and not for today!!

        Liked by 1 person

          • Bruce Goodman July 14, 2019 / 12:40 pm

            None of the greats wrote for both – most wrote to put bread on the table! or for next Sunday’s Divine Service! (On another note altogether – since you’ve made it more difficult to comment – having to log in first – there’s no way any likes I give to comments of others registers unless I have commented first myself. It’s probably a fault on my side – but gymnastics was never my thing!)


  3. H.R.R. Gorman July 14, 2019 / 5:18 am

    Huh, weird – also not what I expected on a Sunday morning, haha! Interesting factoids.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chelsea Owens July 14, 2019 / 8:02 am

      I aim to… Actually, I’m not sure what I aimed for with that!

      Liked by 2 people

  4. Mathew S | Blog of the Wolf Boy July 14, 2019 / 6:44 am

    I love the “Nor that one” repetition hahah… I’ve never done one of these contests before but I really want to try. Looks fun.


    • Chelsea Owens July 14, 2019 / 11:45 am

      I’m trying to be an inspiration, knowing others will surely do better than this. 😀

      Liked by 1 person

  5. bookshelfbattle July 14, 2019 / 10:48 am

    Am I reading this wrong or is this about an octopus that knocks up his mother?

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Lisa Bradshaw July 14, 2019 / 12:44 pm

    But octopus can be so big.. how if it dies on reproducing..;-) will have to read up on subject.. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  7. johnlmalone July 14, 2019 / 4:16 pm

    clever and fun; I can tell you really enjoyed writing this. A terrific opening

    Liked by 1 person

  8. tnkerr July 14, 2019 / 9:51 pm

    I don’t think this is terrible at all. I truly enjoyed it. I like the structure, I like the metre, I like the way it invites the reader in.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chelsea Owens July 14, 2019 / 10:24 pm

      Would you say that it invites the reader in, with one of eight armlegs?

      Liked by 1 person

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