If the fish comes out of the river to tell you that the crocodile has one eye, you should believe it.
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The Crocodile That Ate Computers
There once was a cute crocodile
He lived happily in the River Nile
He liked the river a lot and its fish
Was really his favourite daily dish.
Since school was less his favourite
He remained for a long time illiterate
How to catch fish though he knew
Albeit his days in class were very few.
But a good tutor taught him math
A genius and polymath
The teacher earnest, tried his best
Explained everything with great zest.
Yet his student was always hungry
He could listen only hardly
Once he swallowed two computers
And found tasty all the numbers.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Help...
He is walking by a river
Feeling worse and worse by the minute
One second he is looking at the river
The next he is in it
The icy cold water pulling him down
His screams starting to make no sound.
He keeps fighting, kicking, howling
It was no use
The river was going to send him down
It would laugh in his ear
Knowing his struggle was useless
Though the boy was clueless.
It was decided that
That was all he could take
Letting his mind go numb
For his nerovs's sake
He is submerged in the water
Hearing a final laugh of victory
Just a bunch of mockery
From the stuipd river
nothing could be less civil
Down underwater
he could see many fish
And they looked kind of bothered
'Do not let the river win! '
a fish cried to him
'But I cannot swim no more
and you are just one fish' he sighed
The fish smiled 'Yes, but help can grow'
All the fish gathered around
And now the river no longer pulling him down
He gasped for air
Now he could see
That the poeple who really care
are the ones who can really help me.
When I remember the fish
When I remember the fish,
The river longed me to go,
Wriggling and meandering, slippery in this
Imaginary waters of my world,
I become a fish.
When eye sea them eat the fish;
They cast their nets for a random catch, they
Drop their hooks for a strangling pull, then,
I become a fish no more.
When them fail to catch the fish;
As the fish wriggles an escape,
Then eye long to be like one as eye
Wonder whether or not am a fish.
©1998
poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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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
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The Crocodile that ate Spaghetti
I came across a crocodile
Who nibbled noodles by the Nile.
I wondered why this weirdo wished
To favour food not flavoured fish
Or flesh, but something soft to savour.
What was behind this bad behaviour?
I asked him why he hated hake;
He answered he'd lived by a lake
Which dried out in the desert drought
So rotting rancid fish ran out
And, faced with this dead-fish disaster,
He chose to chew on plates of pasta.
I felt at first this croc was crazed
But I was left shocked and amazed
Since he'd got sick of smelly stuff
Whose nasty niffs were quite enough
To put him off from fish for ever.
This croc's not crazed; he's clearly clever!
poem by C. Richard Miles
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A River Dies
a river dies choked to gills
expiring upon industrial waste
sadly as the river dies the fish die also
oxygen starved extinguished
life was a web of light upon the water
life web torn broken discarded
water breathed life into river flowing
man breathed in death river choking
oxygen rich river was flush with fish
smell taste drink putrid pollution
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A River Flows
Where does the river flow
if not to you?
How deep its depths
if these
are not yours?
How broad is the river bank?
Broad enough
for the tug-boats
to push my heart along.
If there are fish in the river,
they sing your name
open-mouthed,
fish-style,
making tiny bubbles float
up, up to the river surface
where they pop
spread
announcing to the Firmament
that Love lives just below
the deep river flows.
Yes, you and I
are the river;
we flow,
run deep
down to that
ocean-mix
in which
our souls
swirl.
Mix me then
in depths deep.
Mix you then
amid this ocean sweep
and all else,
for me
becomes meaningless
so great
is our Soul Mixed
Ocean Bliss.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Drawing A River
when you draw a river
the river begins
to draw also a fish
the fish shall
sketch a moss
the moss
paints the missing
green
then you have what
your river wants
a place where you
want to
ponder about a sky
come to think again
now draw
a very white sky
take a pen and a very
wide paper....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Unseen Friend 2
The unseen spirit ever walks by me
Neither in front of me nor at my back!
His concerns are genuine.
The unseen spirit often chuckles.
At times he sings chimes into my ears.
He leaves me not, a mischievous guy indeed!
There we see a blue river far
With banks vast and sandy
The unseen spirit and I walk towards it.
There I think of catching a fish
There are no fish in the river though.
There he becomes a fish for me!
Tell me - who are you?
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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31
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some things that can happen with a fish
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bored with TV
Bennie bought a baby crocodile
and took it home in a carrier bag.
He let it roam about the house,
but the crocodile made him sad.
When they watched T.V. together
tears fell from the crocodile’s eyes.
He thought his friend was unhappy
and this made poor Bennie cry.
He carried it to the vet’s clinic
and told them about his fears.
They told him that it was natural
for crocodiles to shed tears.
Feeling relieved and much happier
they sat to watch T.V. again.
The crocodile went to the bathroom
and flushed himself down the drain.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The River that Slowly Rills
The Big Fish finds his lunch, and kills
In the river that slowly rills
The victim, caught up in the flood
First of water, now of blood
Death comes to him in blowing chills
While the river slowly rills
We see the blue is mixed with red
The prey surely now is dead
The carnivore has shown his skills
While the river slowly rills
The day has only just begun
Once of two fish, now of one
A strange home for slaught'ring gills
The river that slowly, slowly rills
poem by Bobby Crawford
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Dry River
River of Doom
Sad sight dry river, and twenty years ago it was
three metre deep and had trout. We caught some
with nets and, fried them on a small fire and felt
like cavemen. Delicious fish meat we ate with our
fingers. Every year I have seen the river getting
smaller even in the winter when it rains irregularly,
it is no more than a beck. There is no fish not even
the skeleton of children caught by a wall of water,
when it had been raining upland and into the river.
Their father was arrested it was said he had killed
the children, fed them to the pigs, but for a single
button in the sty they sat him free. Terrible rumors
every summer I see him walking along the dry river,
muttering to himself trying to find his children
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Pisces Fish
Rowers gliding on the river
Canadian geese crap along the bank
Back wheel of my bike begins to quiver
The chain is wrapped around the crank
Old ladies, who must be doggie training
Walking, throwing balls, chasing all the sheep
While the farmer stands around, and hes complaining
His mad cows are being put to sleep
Im a Pisces fish and the river runs through my soul
Smoke signals from the brewery
Like someone in there found the latest Pope
In a vat of beer that keeps pumping out with fury
While the church bell ringers trangled in his rope
But theres a temple on an island
I think of all the Gods and what they feel
You can only find them in the deepest silence
Ive got to get off of this big wheel
Im a Pisces fish and the river runs through my soul
Im a Pisces fish and the river runs through my soul
And Ill be swimming until I can find those waters
Thats the one unbounded ocean of bliss
Thats flowing through your parents, sons and daughters
But still an easy thing for us to miss
Blades go skimming through the water
I hear the coxon shouting his instructions about
With this crew oh, it could be a tall order
Have we time to sort all these things out ?
Sometimes my life it feels like fiction
Some of the days its really quite serene
Im a living proof of all lifes contradictions
One halfs going where the other halfs just been
And Im a Pisces fish and the river runs through my soul
Im a Pisces fish and the river runs through my soul
Im a Pisces fish and the river runs through my soul
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Beguiling
The crocodile is smiling,
life is all beguiling while
reading the true story of
the greatest cataclysm to
shape our civilization
Moses, Tutankhamun and
The Atlantis Myth, told in
ACT OF GOD by Graham
Phillips - crocodile in pink
with magic wand in purple
On the crocodile computer,
affixed to the screen; purple
fairy wings bewitching the
rest of the office also
This is a day of magic, the
crocodile found a book on
the crumbling foundations
that shook our civilization…
Graham Phillips “ACT OF GOD” 1998 Pan Books
poem by Margaret Alice
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This Is What He Said...
here i am
stuck bathing on the same river
wading on the same
early morning water
thinking, thinking
exerting force without
moving
there is no distance
covered
on such a work that
is worthless
got the energy but there is
no place for me
here, here is an earth
without a tree
here, here is a river
without a ripple
there is a fish over there
the only fish i see
i see, i see, it is floating
it is bloating, it is dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Do not insult the crocodile until you've crossed the river.
Cross the river among a crowd and the crocodile won't eat you.