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Too Blind To Recognize
Too blind to recognize.
No one really knew,
Who they saw on a regular basis.
And this was not encouraged,
To be expected to accept.
Yet discussing other people,
Was what they did best.
Too blind to recognize.
Too blind to recognize.
Disrespecting was all they knew.
And this they did with a full effect.
No one knew who did what.
Or who had experiences to share,
That would provide benefits all would get.
So no one saw to see to receive opportunities,
They would meet but too blind to recognize.
Too blind to recognize,
Gifts given as a prize!
Gifts given they should pride.
Too blind to recognize,
Gifts given as a prize!
Gifts given they should pride.
Just too blind to recognize.
Just too blind to recognize.
Just too blind to recognize...
Gifts given as a prize!
Gifts given they should pride.
Too blind to recognize.
Just too blind to recognize.
Too blind to recognize.
Just too blind to recognize...
Gifts given as a prize!
Gifts given they should pride.
Too blind to recognize.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Senriyu
Boats with lots of fish,
Fishermen' wives are in agony in the shore,
Pirates shot the fishermen!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There are all kinds of letters and protests that come from, not surprisingly, Japanese fishermen, the fishermen's wives; there are student groups, all different types of people; the protest against the Americans' use of the Pacific for nuclear testing.
quote by Martha Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anybody who spends time off of Louisiana's shores can recognize that these oysters are not endangered. To classify them as such risks great harm to not only fishermen who make their living collecting oysters in the Gulf, but also to Louisiana's economy in total.
quote by Bobby Jindal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beyond Recognition
no my friend
no, you can't recognize me
any more at this moment
burnt in the firmament of
my unadulterated desire for you
i'm now reduced to
a whiff of thin vapour
quickly carried away by the wind
and in no time absorbed by ether
no friend, no
you can't recognize me
any more at this moment
i'm now a tomb with all
love and hurt accrued
buried deep within with
no epitaph inscribed
no my friend
no, you can't recognize me
any more at this moment
as i sit in a corner of a cold bed
drawing my empty limbs closer
as if they're all that's left of me...
no my friend, no
you can't recognize me
any more at this moment
as much as i can't recognize me myself
through this vacant mirror...
wait, there from a corner
i recognize you simply gazing
at nothing in particular...
why, you alone?
i recognize my self
no more...
25dec2009
01.01hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The fishermen of Gallilee
The fishermen of Gallilee, disciples of Jesus, called to be,
Learning how to live by Faith, they obeyed when He said 'follow Me.'
They went out to fish with their nets one very stormy night,
And as a storm blew up, they saw Him walk and got a fright;
They thought it was a ghost, But they soon found out,
It was Jesus walking there, and soon their boat came about.
Another time when they were on the sea, as Jesus did stand and talk,
He then said we'll go the other side by boat, we won't walk;
And as they started out with their boats into the deep,
Jesus went to the back of the boat, and went to sleep.
Now as they travelled, the weather changed, and a storm did blow,
And the Fishermen came so afraid, Fear was all they did know;
They went to Jesus and woke Him, then said don't you really care,
That we're in danger, but why couldn't they realize, Jesus was there;
Jesus then stood up, rebuked the storm, and the storm quietened down,
Jesus said Peace, and peace came, No longer their faces did frown.
The fishermen learnt many things, and so do learn them, it's so,
That trusting in Jesus, for everyone, is the only way to go;
But with trust and faith, helps us to cope in life,
When sin causes us to go wrong, brings about strife;
Just keep on believing, and try not to doubt,
You too like the fishermen, you'll no longer pout.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Kicks
The fishermen on Lake Michigan, sometimes,
For kicks, they spit two hunks of bait on hooks
At either end of a single length of line
And toss that up among the scavenging gulls,
Who go for it so fast that often two of them
Make the connection before it hits the water.
Hooked and hung up like that, they do a dance
That lasts only so long. The fishermen
Do that for kicks, on Lake Michigan, sometimes.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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Bad n Ruin
(rod stewart, ian mclagan)
Mother dont you recognize your son, ooh hoo
Coming home, yeah yeah
Getting home, cause I failed you mother, hmm-mmm
Ill be there in the mornin
If you have me back
The rent up here is much too high
For a room without a tap
A room without a tap, hoo
Ill be early in the morning
And Ill find my way back home
Back home bad n ruin
With my tail between my legs
Tail between my legs
And Ill be so tired
Ill be so tired, now listen
Ill be early tomorrow morning
And Ill fall down off my plane
Dont be embarrassed mother
By your ugly worn-out son, hmm
Your ugly worn-out son.
So just let me warn you
Mother, you wont recognize me now
Mother, you wont recognize me now
Mother, you wont recognize me now, hoo
And Ill be down on cannon[? ] street
Passport in my hand
Should you could not recognize me
Ive heavily made-up eyes
Momma, you wont recognize me now
Brother, you wont recognize me now
Hello there
Sister, you wont recognize me now
Mother, you wont recognize me now
Ooh, hoo
So mother when youve seen me
Dont forget Im your boy too
I know my brother has done you proud
Hes one foot in the grave
Mother dont you recognize me now ?
Im a burglar in the first degree
But it dont seem to worry me
Ill be so tired, so tired
Ill be so tired, so tired
So tired
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shake The Nightmare From Your Head
Shake the nightmare from your head
Awaken…
Let not the black magicians beguile you
Fan away their dark clouds of confusion
Refuse them your blood and life essence
The time is ripe for transparency/truth
You’ve hungered for sovereignty
Take it…
Recognize your divine self
Recognize your true destiny
Recognize your place in the Cosmos
Eternity awaits you…
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down In The Deep
Way down, down in the deep
how many a sailor went to sleep?
Some in ships that were wrecked in a storm,
some in vessels that now do form
abodes for fish to swim all around.
Down in the deep at the bottom of its ground.
Way down, down in the deep
how many travelers went to sleep?
Some in planes that crashed in the sea,
strapped in their seats, not floating free.
The sea became their final resting place
down in the deep without a trace.
Way down, down in the deep
How many fishermen went to sleep?
Some in boats loaded with their catch,
Time had come when the sea became their match.
But, fishermen are in love with the big blue deep.
And so it is down in the deep that they sleep.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Unprotected species
The morning mist lifts and reveals.
A scattered colony of seals
Their breeding place beside the sea
protected by the enemy.
The fishermen who used to kill
and if allowed would do so still.
They do not dare to harm a seal
the penalties are all too real
The fisher men bitterly complain
the seals are free to fish again.
Unhampered by the silly rules
complied by bureaucratic fools.
The fisherman can’t understand
why they are bound by this command.
But not the seals apparently
They just ignore bureaucracy.
Seals are creatures of the sea
and as intended they are free
But the fishermen are not
That’s why they all bewail their lot.
22-Jun-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dutch lullaby
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,--
Sailed on a river of misty light
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,"
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
The old moon laughed and sung a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish
That lived in the beautiful sea.
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,
But never afeard are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
All night long their nets they threw
For the fish in the twinkling foam,
Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home;
'T was all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be;
And some folk thought 't was a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea;
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock on the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three,--
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
poem by Eugene Field
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I cannot tell you what it means when children recognize. This is about the third generation for me. And when kids that small recognize me, it really pleases me, very gratifying.
quote by Dick Van Dyke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,--
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,"
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish
That lived in the beautiful sea.
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish,--
Never afraid are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam,--
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home:
'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be;
And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea;
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:--
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
poem by Eugene Field
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A lot of people recognize me or feel that they know me. A lot of times when I speak, they recognize my voice. It's fun, it's exciting. It's always good feedback.
quote by Tina Yothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So imagine a world 6 degrees warmer. It's not going to recognize geographical boundaries. It's not going to recognize anything. So agriculture regions today will be wiped out.
quote by Steven Chu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Paumanok Picture
TWO boats with nets lying off the sea-beach, quite still,
Ten fishermen waiting--they discover a thick school of mossbonkers--
they drop the join'd seine-ends in the water,
The boats separate and row off, each on its rounding course to the
beach, enclosing the mossbonkers,
The net is drawn in by a windlass by those who stop ashore,
Some of the fishermen lounge in their boats, others stand ankle-deep
in the water, pois'd on strong legs,
The boats partly drawn up, the water slapping against them,
Strew'd on the sand in heaps and windrows, well out from the water,
the green-back'd spotted mossbonkers.
poem by Walt Whitman
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You know, Hoosiers recognize pork when we see it. And they recognize what bailing out every failing business in America means - We're burying generations under a mountain range of debt.
quote by Mike Pence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish Fear Fishermen
Underneath the sea inhabited the fish
That swam also with warmth and affection.
Seasons in the sea glare like rocks near a cliff,
Falling onto them may be like fishes are enemies.
Hatred of fishes carries a weight too hard,
For the fishermen rejoice at their capture
And consume the heads as well.
Hating the sea is agony, futile and wrong,
For the fish of the ocean meander in swarms
And they flock at the home they live in.
Underneath the sea is a boat of fish,
Funnelling through the portholes, and describing
Their lives in multifarious colours, wreaking havoc
And swaying with the undersea music.
The fish sway in fear of music, and men - Fishermen.
poem by Naveed Akram
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In those days, man, in the '50s, black people in the South... We didn't recognize contracts that much. And we didn't recognize marriages that much, either.
quote by Ike Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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