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Anim
I was born by the river and l live by this river,
For at the age of five i fell in love to the river.
I was married at the age of fifteen to a fisherman,
And i've never been to school before;
But my only education is with this river.
The name of my husband is Anim and,
We live by this river;
For my birth and life are all based by this river!
But today, i am old with my children born on this river.
At dawn i go out with my canoe to catch some fish,
And i have a hook to catch some fish at daylight as well;
For this river had been my life ever since.
My husband is a fisherman and,
I was married to him at fifiteen;
And we've lived all our lives on this river.
This is my home and homw of my children,
This is my way of life and of the people around me,
For this river is all that i know in this world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Go away little girl
Beautiful girl
You have grown such long hair
Flowing like river
Go away now, follow that river
Find the sea follow your flow
To the vastness of
This bounty
Go away now and be yourself
Beautiful lady, earth’s bounty
You cannot find love in me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fisherman
The sunset hues
colour the sky red
at evening tide
predicting fair weather
for the day ahead.
No storm clouds
to follow me
as I set my sails
on my great fishing boat
for my journey out to sea
with sun and fair winds
to follow me.
A fisherman is my life
with the sail and sea my home.
Free to do what I do best
fish the bounty of the sea.
At dusk, I rest
and wait for the morning fair.
A fisherman is my life,
something I’ll always be
until the day comes along
to visit Davy Jones locker,
but until then I’ll roam free
wherever the fair wind takes me.
No landlover me
as the sea is my home
and where I always want to be,
watching whales and dolphins play
and the gulls for company.
17 February 2011
poem by David Harris
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There, there the land of bounty lies
Many fingers point to the land
of bounty.
All feet lead to it.
All hearts cry out
and are satisfied.
All thirst quenched.
All needs catered by the
Owner of the Land of Bounty
He who also owns
the skies and seas.
You are a sad man.
Why?
Why do you always
shy away from the Man of Bounty?
This is something that
I cannot really understand.
Sad man, you must tell me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A River Of Loneliness
loneliness is like a river
winding through many mountains
and hills and plains
and ricelands
trying to end its journey
to the mouth of the sea
whose vast bounty takes the river in
and diffuses all its loneliness
into anonymity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A fisherman can recognize another fisherman from afar.
Flowing Red River
I dive head first into the flowing red river.
It's acrid taste fills my mouth.
I drown in it's putrid depths.
My heart pounds and excitement grips.
As the flowing red river drips.
I cannot contain my growing glee.
I cannot wait to feed on it's bounty.
From down below I stand up straight.
I rise to greet this wonderful fate.
The flowing red river fills me up.
I bend right down from it to suck.
In and out I feel such love.
It cleans my soul flowing red river runs.
I feel it right now it's almost gone.
The pinnacle of joy hits like a bomb.
Yet I'm sad when the flowing red rivers gone.
Fear not though we'll always meet.
When the flowing red river comes to greet.
poem by Michael McParland
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Frozen Dance
The tree is without leaves
Lifting one arm in the direction of the air
The head as if to see
The dry river bed
The stones have been cut sharply
By wind
There had been some water
And the river had been in flow
This bridge is built in vain
The other tree
Had been a fisherman
The first one
The beautiful fairy
Taking a bath
And in sight of a dream
Is now a tree
In the shape of frozen dance
Islamabad
28/5/2010
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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A Fishermans Will
A Fisherman's Will
I have eaten catfish in more ways than one
Fish that is blackened is not over done
Bass done over a grill with butter basting
Fish balls fried are really tasty
I have had days I caught more fish than I could contain
Then there were days I didn't get a bite and it rained
Memories of Dads and trips where we bonded
Caught some that could have been mounted
Romance and fishing don't go together well
Poles and pools on days hotter than hell
I've never make a good fisher of men
But I have found fishing gives me a grin
So when I die I ask you please
Put my body in a river or sea
Let the fish then eat off me,
So I may return the favor, please!
This is my request in my:
Fisherman's Will
Jim 1989
poem by James Casey
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Lana Jane
Every boy loved her- Lana Jane,
And who could blame them? She was fair,
Of perfect form and beauty rare,
But none could have her, Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
And he no man to barter.
For he would take poor Lana Jane
To sea, and she would stay the boat
When harbored; thus, a dreadful moat
Would bar the way to Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
But he refused to barter.
In fourteen years, sweet Lana Jane,
Was never seen upon the shore
Among the boys who wanted more
Than life to see their Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
Whose father ne'er would barter.
The legend grew of Lana Jane,
While scores of ports, legions of ships
Claimed: “She’s aboard! ” through whispered lips,
“The rarest beauty, Lana Jane,
“The fisherman’s only daughter.
“She's yours to see. Let's barter! ”
Where Is The River?
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or somewhere else
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or hidden under the ground
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or safe inside the cave
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or still far away
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or up above the cloud
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or out of our reach
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or trickling on the rock
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or gathering in the pool
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or down over the cliff
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or just sight of illusion
Where is the river?
Is it here
Running in your eyes
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or sudden flood in the road
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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John The Fisherman
When he was young youd not find him doing well in school,
His mind would turn unto the waters.
Always the focus of adolescent ridicule,
He has no time for farmers daughters.
Alienated from the clique society,
A lonely boy finds peace in fishing.
His mother says john this is not the way lifes supposed to be.
Dont you see the life that you are missing?
And he says...
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Now years gone by we find man that rules the sea.
He sets out on a dark may morning .
To bring his catch back to this small community.
He doesnt see the danger dawning.
Four hours up, oh the ocean swelled and swelled,
The fog rolled in it started raining.
The starboard bow. oh my God were going down!
The do not hear his frantic mayday.
And he says
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Ill live and die a fisherman.
Calling john the fisherman.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Life Is Like a River
The surface is calm, smooth and glassy,
Beauty reflected therein
An occasional ripple, or eddy,
Betrays the stillness and calm
Follow the river a while, for the eddies
Enlarge further on;
Twisting & turning, now restless,
They leap over log, fern and stone
The valley is wider, and deeper,
The river is roaring in pain
Currents confused and pulsating,
Thrashing and foaming in vain.
The cliff face is yawning & threatening,
The river is wild in its' rage;
And now, in reckless abandon,
It hurtles as it's done for an age
Right over the cliff, and onto the rocks
Where it knocks itself senseless to pain;
Now the river is curled in a pool far below,
Relieved and released from the strain
'Lord I'm ignoring the boundaries
As a river, I'm bursting my banks;
My currents are frothing and foaming
I don't want to stay in the ranks.
I need You to help me, Lord Jesus,
For You calmed the wild, raging sea
I need You to heal me, and bless me
To pour oil on the storms inside me.
poem by Jinge Norvall
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The River
When my wife died I used to walk alone by the river,
but I don’t go near there any more.
Lost souls who had drowned used to speak to me
of the lives they had once before.
Every time I went they asked me to enter the water,
‘It will clear your mind, ’ they said.
I told them that I had never learned how to swim
and drowning is the only thing I dread.
One early morning I was walking along the river-bank
and the bank collapsed beneath my feet.
I found myself being swept along by the raging current
and saw my wife drowning in the deep.
Several of the dead I used to talk with held me under,
my breath expired and I just sank.
My wife pulled me up from the river’s depths
and a fisherman revived me on the bank.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The earth only has so much bounty to offer and inventing ever larger and more notional prices for that bounty does not change its real value.
Swimming With The River's Rage
when the meaning of water
ceases to be fluid
one fish swims with the rage of the river
looking for sharp stones
to tear off its fins
looking for a crazy fisherman
to catch it
hook, like and sinker
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fisherman jim's kids
Fisherman Jim lived on the hill
With his bonnie wife an' his little boys;
'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will -
Naught we reck of your cold and noise!"
For happy and warm were he an' his,
And he dandled his kids upon his knee
To the song of the sea.
Fisherman Jim would sail all day,
But, when come night, upon the sands
His little kids ran from their play,
Callin' to him an' wavin' their hands;
Though the wind was fresh and the sea was high,
He'd hear'em - you bet - above the roar
Of the waves on the shore!
Once Fisherman Jim sailed into the bay
As the sun went down in a cloudy sky,
And never a kid saw he at play,
And he listened in vain for the welcoming cry.
In his little house he learned it all,
And he clinched his hands and he bowed his head -
"The fever!" they said.
'T wuz a pitiful time for Fisherman Jim,
With them darlin's a-dyin' afore his eyes,
A-stretchin' their wee hands out to him
An' a-breakin' his heart with the old-time cries
He had heerd so often upon the sands;
For they thought they wuz helpin' his boat ashore -
Till they spoke no more.
But Fisherman Jim lived on and on,
Castin' his nets an' sailin' the sea;
As a man will live when his heart is gone,
Fisherman Jim lived hopelessly,
Till once in those years they come an' said:
"Old Fisherman Jim is powerful sick -
Go to him, quick!"
Then Fisherman Jim says he to me:
"It's a long, long cruise-you understand -
But over beyont the ragin' sea
I kin see my boys on the shinin' sand
Waitin' to help this ol' hulk ashore,
Just as they used to - ah, mate, you know! -
In the long ago."
No, sir! he wuzn't afeard to die;
For all night long he seemed to see
His little boys of the days gone by,
An' to hear sweet voices forgot by me!
An' just as the mornin' sun come up -
"They're holdin' me by the hands!" he cried,
An' so he died.
poem by Eugene Field
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N- A joke together a fable
The fisherman has caught a frog...
The poor cried:
- I am a princess bewitched...
Kiss me... kiss......
The fisherman has put in pocket...
Muttered still so:
- At my age it is better - the frog....
Which can speaks...
12.12.08
poem by Tsira Gogeshvili
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Fisherman and sea
Fisher man
Catch
The fishes...
On net...
At sea...
Sea asking
For fisherman...
'This fishes is not
Your fishes...'
Fisherman told
' yes this not my fishes
Allways your's...
You sale with my work...'
Sea bee silant...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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