It is at courts as it is in ponds; some fish, some frogs.
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The frogs [Broaştele]
Up in my poplar moon lays down its nest,
And like a raven night begins to fly.
Its wings throw stars, but these don't get to rest,
They're sipped by frogs, which by the ponds do lie.
Because the frogs engulf such bits of night,
Then in the ponds they dive for having fun,
Stirring the water with their bellies white
In which so many stars melt one by one.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş

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Remembering A Friend Through The Fish
we keep when we were children
our treasures in a form of a fish
inside our own little secret ponds
we never intend to share them at first
we fear the adults who steal
we dislike them minding us
telling us that fish is not interesting at all
that the pond is just a very small world
where our minds are convoluted
like intestines of a fish
do you remember the flood
of adult water spreading rising higher than our knees?
it was very sad
all the fish we kept were taken away by the indifference
of the majority
we give up
we went to other places
and then we became too lonely
they want us to hate the fish
to be like them
and so here we are still keeping the fish
in anger.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Sounding rains judging
Sloshing ocean, rivers, falls all
Croaking frogs help ponds
haiku by Indira Renganathan

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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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Tad & The Bullfrog King
Bullfrog King did summon Tad
“I have a task for you young lad”
“A task for me? Egad! ” said Tad
“Fetch your club and kilt of plaid”
“I’ll teach you how to public speak
You’ll learn the art of war
One day you’ll be my president
By then you’ll know the score”
Years passed, Tad became a frog
‘You’re ready now” said Bullfrog King
Come sit by me and sip some grog
Today I’ll give to you my signet ring”
“You’ll campaign, with speeches thrill
Then there will be a sham election
You’ll landslide win and beat my shill
There will be no ballot box inspection”
“When in command, you’ll do my bidding
Through my shrewd, hand-picked cronies
Just look good and lie Tad, I’m not kidding
Heed my generals and assorted phonies”
Tad went on to be elected, as planned
The Bullfrog King was very pleased
A cry of hope did raise thru-out the land
Frogs knew not their pond dis-eased
On campaign promises Tad did renege
Followed in the footsteps of him before
While bankers and military danced a jig
Tad’s actions were to heinous to ignore
King made plans to rule all world ponds
He’d name the plan “A New World Order”
With all frog liberties he would abscond
Tad became his World Prison-Warder
Many frogs rebelled, many did comply
Jailed & tortured, some were euthanized
Toad mercenaries were hired to pacify
Frogs wailed, gnashed teeth n’ agonized
The FROG GOD was faced with a dilemma
What would He do to stop such madness?
He decided to give all the ponds an enema
To help restore peace, harmony, gladness
He unleashed a torrent to flood the earth
Made every tiny pond part of a raging sea
“Behold I make all things new by rebirth'
“A New Beginning” He Chuckled Affably
He reached down to Earth for a pinch of mud
From this He fashioned skin, bone and blood
Into a “New frog” and placed him in a puddle
From frogs rib he made some changes subtle
With male and female frogs complete
FROG GOD SPOKE,
“It is Finished, My Love’s Replete”
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero

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Cant Get No Justice
black man
in them poverty chains
cant get no justice
in them sterile white courts.
blue collar man
in them grimy working chains
cant get no justice
in them insulated courts.
freedom man
in them speak out chains
cant get no justice
in them walled off courts.
poor woman, ha!
in them second class chains
cant get no justice
in them man-god courts.
you and me
in them angry tired chains
cant get no justice
in them fictional courts!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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The Stork's Vocation
THE stork who worms and frogs devours
That in our ponds reside,
Why should he dwell on high church-towers,
With which he's not allied?
Incessantly he chatters there,
And gives our ears no rest;
But neither old nor young can dare
To drive him from his nest.
I humbly ask it,--how can he
Give of his title proof,
Save by his happy tendency
To soil the church's roof?
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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Is it really like fishing?
They say there is many fish in the sea to choose from.
But have you ever gone fishing?
They say do not worry they are like fish you lose one then get a fresh one.
But have you actually gone fishing?
They say you can be picky when fishing your fish.
But have you been in the sea and fished?
They even say some actually smell like fish.
But have you really smelled a fish?
They say there is plenty of fish in the sea.
But have you actually gone and counted the fish in the sea?
They say once you catch that perfect fish, you are bound for a good life.
But have you caught that perfect fish they all speak of?
They say some fish can be beautiful.
But have you seen any beautiful fish?
How can one compare a fish?
They are not alike.
How can one say it is as easy as finding a fish?
It is not a simple task.
How can they say there are so many fish in the sea?
When there are so many fishers who have yet to catch.
Can you really compare life and love to a fish?
The answer is of course not.
You can’t.
Impossible.
Unreal.
Not imaginable.
Unbelievable.
Unrealistic.
A fairy tale.
poem by ReubenJames Rodriguez

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Tiny Rhyme
Fish oh! fish
swish a miss
wish on hiss
shush to hush
Push push
oh! fish
flush a blush
fresh 'n' mush
Fish oh! fish
slush the gush
slash in gash
splash the plush
Fish oh! fish
pose to posh
rush a mash
fish oh! gosh!
poem by Mubeen Sadhika

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Rain (Ya-du)
Every where croak
came the frogs out
earth soaked water
saw in morning
first rain was heavily raining.
Filled ponds and tanks
river banks lost
fields sank in water
excess of rain
flooded whole terrain.
Glided farmers
saw better rain
there hoped for good
vegetation
they can grow in the season.
poem by S.D. Tiwari

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Fish Deeper, says HE
Rainy days chill makes me lazy here in my cabin
Only croaks of frogs, I hear, singing with no rhythm,
Snails crawl on the ground; earthworms are visible in my garden
Used them as baits, to the river I went for some fishing.
Yet water running from slopes makes the river cold
No fish on surface, they swim deep and avoid,
I stayed hours while singing 'Raindrops Keeps Fallin' in my Head'
But nay, no fish eats my bait; can I just shoot them, instead?
Sam said true, 'Fish deep, fear not to plunge deep
Fulfillment is gained; why not face your fear,
Swim and play, water is enticing, dear
Water holds fun and lots from it to keep! '
I like to catch fish, though I cannot swim deep
Neither kill a fish, take off its intestines and gills,
Scaling it, cook and eat it in zest
I'd prefer catching fish and throw it back, I guess!
Hmn...I think I prefer it as a sport than feed
Yet I have naughty thoughts as I do the deed,
If my man was here, he may join me as we catch fish
Ha ha! Can we make love before we eat the main dish? (Wink)
poem by InNer WhisPers

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Love To Be Witness
I shall love to be a witness
See the changes in early morning and face
All that could be seen with own eyes
Birds with wings and all colorful butterflies
How the flowers shrink in cold breeze?
How do they feel covered with dews?
How do they long for first sun light?
I consider it moment cheerful and very right
I can't claim as natural lover
Neither am I strong supporter or believer
Yet no one can deny the existence of natural power
That is why so many flowers come up with first rainy showers
Ponds are filled with fresh waters from flow
Frogs make it wonderful with their trau trau* (sound)
All such beautiful things you can never forget
As nature is now in full bloom and set
Same pond, same water but with different kind of flowers
All have come up with first accumulation of water and showers
Not all may notice such beautiful and magnificent show
Where nature has given us everything in abundance in flow
Who will want to neglect such scene?
Where it can be again witnessed or seen?
No where else except in forest area of beautiful earth
It is exceptionally outstanding and can be called worth
I was stunned to glance at the gradual emergence
It is wonderful to see and observe by chance
Like birds, frogs and all insects I too join and feel part
It is beginning of an end and very good start
*trau trau.. sound of frogs
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal

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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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Still a Spinster the next door beautiful Nurse
Thouhghts of tadpoles swarm in the Spring ponds
Summer flowers bloom among the noisy frogs.
Painful Autumn crawls like a venomous serpent
And the gloomy sky weeps in a Wintry night!
Stupid War still goes on in a distant Country
The Warship just dropped her Anchor at Midnight
And she waits for the Recruits to come on board.
The Youth wears his Military Uniform,
And departs, stops for a while to listen
Her melancholy singsong beyond the fence!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga

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Hungry For Cigarettes Only
Early Saturday morning,
We went to the water roundabout
we have been waited by the car.
We walked straight passed the palace
through the place of Arabians place
left bend climbed above
headed the slate road.
upwards continued,
through many of durian trees,
through fish fish-ponds,
stalled in the repaired roads,
which many organisers of the traffic
from the inhabitants of the village
use the hat, tin asked for the fund contribution
for the improvement of the government road
improved never was finished.
we went straight to Cihideung,
went straight to the hungry of the Old-Peasant.
just need for cigarettes
only,
poem by Prasetya Utama

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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 24
A weak fisherman caught a strong fish in his net and not being able to retain it the fish overcame him and pulled the net from his hand.
A boy went to bring water from the torrent.
The torrent came and took the boy away.
The net brought every time a fish.
This time the fish went and carried off the net.
The other fishermen were sorry and blamed him for not being able to retain such a fish which had fallen into his net. He replied: ‘O brothers, what can be done? My day was not lucky but the fish had yet one remaining. ‘Moral: A fisherman cannot catch a fish in the Tigris without a day of luck and a fish cannot die on dry ground without the decree of fate.
Our biggest fish
When in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,
I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and the like;
And oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul was fraught
When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny string I'd caught!
And, oh, the indignation and the valor I'd display
When I claimed that all the biggest fish I'd caught had got away!
Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes the fragile lines,
And many times the treacherous reeds would foil my just designs;
But whether hooks or lines or reeds were actually to blame,
I kept right on at losing all the monsters just the same--
I never lost a little fish--yes, I am free to say
It always was the biggest fish I caught that got away.
And so it was, when later on, I felt ambition pass
From callow minnow joys to nobler greed for pike and bass;
I found it quite convenient, when the beauties wouldn't bite
And I returned all bootless from the watery chase at night,
To feign a cheery aspect and recount in accents gay
How the biggest fish that I had caught had somehow got away.
And really, fish look bigger than they are before they are before they're
caught--
When the pole is bent into a bow and the slender line is taut,
When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a doughnut in his throat
And he lunges in a frenzy up and down the leaky boat!
Oh, you who've been a-fishing will indorse me when I say
That it always is the biggest fish you catch that gets away!
'T 'is even so in other things--yes, in our greedy eyes
The biggest boon is some elusive, never-captured prize;
We angle for the honors and the sweets of human life--
Like fishermen we brave the seas that roll in endless strife;
And then at last, when all is done and we are spent and gray,
We own the biggest fish we've caught are those that got away.
I would not have it otherwise; 't is better there should be
Much bigger fish than I have caught a-swimming in the sea;
For now some worthier one than I may angle for that game--
May by his arts entice, entrap, and comprehend the same;
Which, having done, perchance he'll bless the man who's proud to say
That the biggest fish he ever caught were those that got away.
poem by Eugene Field

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