The Ponderous Galapagos Turtle
Editorial Introduction. — This section is devoted to poetry involving turtles, representing either reprinted previously published or new unpublished material. We encourage our readers to submit poetry or songs for consideration, either their own material or work by other authors. Poems may be submitted to Anders G.J. Rhodin at Chelonian Research Foundation [RhodinCRF@aol.com].
Our desire is to share with our readers the beauty and wonder of turtles as expressed through the art of the poem or song. In the sense that the relationship between man and turtles is multifaceted, so too is turtle poetry. The poems we publish here will reflect that complexity, from poems of pure admiration for the creatures themselves to others reflecting the utilization of turtles and their products. Some poems will reflect man's use of the turtle for sustenance, others will stress man's need to preserve and protect turtles. Some will deal with our emotional interactions with turtles, others will treat turtles light-heartedly or with seeming disrespect, but all will hopefully help us to better understand both the human and the chelonian condition, and remind us that the turtle holds a sacred place in all our hearts.
Chelonian Conservation and Biology, 2008, 7(1): 156
The Ponderous Galapagos Turtle
Charles Levenstein1
The ponderous Galapagos turtle
lies on his belly,
munches greens,
contemplates time,
how wondrous it seems:
When I was a youth
did I stand on my feet,
arms akimbo?
Did I despise my fat parents
and the rocks from which they came?
Was I a boy preoccupied with copulation?
Did I join up to save the nation?
Did I develop a sneer?
Did I know why I was here?
Of course not.
Turtles don't go on the road,
we enjoy our isle,
reproduce in a pile,
then eat a lot,
or as much as we can get.
Kelp's not boring,
plenty to do right here
without running off.
Poor humans with their cameras.
And the wheel.
And the sail.
And fire, of course.
They start out stupid and must be tended,
rear ends wiped, clothing mended.
At twenty, though, they know
everything there is to know.
Time seems slow on my Galapago.
I swim, I think,
I have another drink.
Thus spake the turtle,
beached on his belly.
Time has not made him particularly wise
and he's become too tough to eat.
Editorial Comment. — I found this amusing poem about Galapagos turtles on the internet, an increasingly amazing source of materials and inspiration (and a lot of dubious material as well). The author is a retired professor of social economics who has found a second calling in poetry. This poem reminds me of my own travels to the Galapagos and the inspiration I found there, as well as the humor in turtles contemplating their adolescence and perspective in life and among species. They seem to have their lives figured out—“I swim, I think, I have another drink”—not bad choices for a lifestyle. Would that it were that easy for all the rest of us.
