If you believe in your heart that you are right, you must fight with all your might to do it your way. Only dead fish swim with the stream all the time.
quote by Linda Ellerbee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish with no tail
as i gaze out of nature... i have seen a fish without a tail
impossible but its true, first things came up to my mind
is, ask whether its worth to give time to remember all
the scene or perhaps, just a memories of a simple
goodbye
as the fish swim, deep beneath the crystal blue water, i
couldn't remember the minutes, the hours past, nay i felt
that i haven't taken my meal, it seems all are just a blink
of a second in my eyes
it keeps on bubbling, even in a thousands seconds it
stay in the water, until i notice that the fish fail to surface
beneath the running water, for the absence of the tail
the body is nothing
all is just a mirror of a fish that, every movement of the
body, the twist of the tail has to follow, its a paradox to
believe that we see the tail of other fish, nay never we
saw that we don't have tail of our own
like the fish it swim, with no direction, only an inspiration
that we can do, yet as it goes there we go, tail that swim
in the water stream with no affection of what to do
now i see, how to swim, in water, lou! where i may go...in
the world of stream when everybody is frame......
poem by Antonio Liao
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It's a Fish's Life
Swim fish, swim! swim for your life!
The fisherman's coming you're tea for his wife!
Swim fish, swim! your fastest yet,
You must swim quickly, to avoid his big net!
Swim fish, swim! right out to sea!
For I am a shark waiting, and you're dinner for ME!
poem by George Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gallant maiden...Lets fish...
Lonely stream, where do you depart with your lover?
Lovely maiden, why do you walk on this lonely stream?
Lovely song brace with echoes...
I fish this stream my lovely maiden...
I can't fish...
Come, lets fish...
If you were this fish...
I will take care of you...
Come, i can't eat this fish...
We caught...
Where my gallant maiden, Where do you live?
You make me question this stream...
You make me guard our departed stream...
Come lets fish...
Lets, start over...
Before, this stream drys out...
Before, we can no longer fish again...
Oh, expire fish i treasure your bone for my lost lover...
I held you in my heart forever and ever...
Never forget that only dead fish swim with the stream.
quote by Malcolm Muggeridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any dead fish can flow down the river but it takes a live one to swim back up stream.
We Fish
We fish, we fish, we merrily swim,
We care not for friend nor for foe.
Our fins are stout,
Our tails are out,
As through the seas we go.
Fish, Fish, we are fish with red gills;
Naught disturbs us, our blood is at zero:
We are buoyant because of our bags,
Being many, each fish is a hero.
We care not what is it, this life
That we follow, this phantom unknown;
To swim, it's exceedingly pleasant,--
So swim away, making a foam.
This strange looking thing by our side,
Not for safety, around it we flee:--
Its shadow's so shady, that's all,--
We only swim under its lee.
And as for the eels there above,
And as for the fowls of the air,
We care not for them nor their ways,
As we cheerily glide afar!
We fish, we fish, we merrily swim,
We care not for friend nor for foe:
Our fins are stout,
Our tails are out,
As through the seas we go.
poem by Herman Melville
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Fish vs. Humans
The fish swim in the coral
and we get stuck in school
Some fish are trapped forever in the aquarium inside the tanks
Some people are trapped by wrongdoings, and are put in prison instead of spanked
Fish swim in schools that look similar to them
Teenagers stay in clicks that I'm sure will never end
Sometimes I go to the aquarium and I admire all the fish
I wonder how many times fish think 'to be a human is all I wish'
poem by Rebecca Bell
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Caring For a Dead Fish
When the cupboard is bare
And the cat’s had the cream,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When the house is on fire
And the birds have all flown,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When your loved ones have gone
And you’re left all alone,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When the seas have dried up
And the land is all desert,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When the Sun has gone Nova
And we’re all blown to bits,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When it’s all empty space
And there’s nothing at all,
Even a dead fish would be worth caring about.
poem by Pete Crowther
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Fishing in the Wei River
In waters still as a burnished mirror's face,
In the depths of Wei, carp and grayling swim.
Idly I come with my bamboo fishing-rod
And hang my hook by the banks of Wei stream.
A gentle wind blows on my fishing-gear
Softly shaking my ten feet of line.
Though my body sits waiting for fish to come,
My heart has wandered to the Land of Nothingness.
Long ago a white-headed man
Also fished at the same river's side;
A hooker of men, not a hooker of fish,
At seventy years, he caught Wen Wang.
But I, when I come to cast my hook in the stream,
Have no thought either of fish or men.
Lacking the skill to capture either prey,
I can only bask in the autumn water's light.
When I tire of this, my fishing also stops;
I go to my home and drink my cup of wine.
Fish Out Of Water
You always said you were the compassionate one
But now you're laughing at the sun
With all your high class friends you think you've got it made
The only thing you made was that tanned look on your face
With all your cigarettes and fancy cars
You ain't a clue who or what you are
You're dreaming your life away
Fish out of water
Go swim in the tide today
Fish out of water
We used to sit and talk about primal scream
To exorsice our past was our adolescent dream
But now it's sink or swim since your memory fails
Now in Neptune's kitchen you will be food for killer whales
And on the crucifix his mother made
Hangs one more martyr to the hit parade
You're dreaming you're life away
Fish out of water
Go swim in the tide today
Fish out of water
You're dreaming you're life away
Fish out of water
Go swim in the tide today
Fish out of water
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Elemental
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishees Underwater
Fish have many pretty colors, they live beneath the waves
Some fish seem to swim in schools while others live in caves
Some are short and some are small and some are stringy thin
Some of them are wide and tall and some just dig right in.
There's not much light beneath the waves of all our great big seas,
But all the fish don't seem to mind, they somehow still can see
Plants live down there, under water and make things seem so nice,
That all the fishes dance around and always check things twice.
Some fish swim deep down there, others they just won't
Some of them seem unafraid, but most of them just don't
Some fish have large shiny teeth, some have none at all
Some of them swim hastily, while others only crawl.
Of all the fish and animals my favorite is a star fish
If I find one on the beach, I stop and make a wish
I pick them up and throw them back, far out into the ocean
And hope they learn to not return, or repeat that silly notion.
poem by Daniel Lloyd Kennedy
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Fish Dinner
I don't want to swim the ocean
I don't want to swim the sea
I don't want to eat the fish
And I don't want them eating me
I'm sure I wouldn't make a tasty dish
So I won't bother them, if the fish agree!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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The Fish Year
Marico brought back a tank with salt water from Brazil,
Wnetta bought small stones and water plants from pet store,
The red fish and black fish were got from
Hua’s backyard pond,
After Chris checking the filter
and water temperature,
everything is set,
and the fish is ready to grow and bred.
Gundi feeds the fish everyday,
and watches them day and night.
The red fish swim up and down,
The black fish swim down and up,
The green water plants swing their long leaves
upside down.
We can hear the talk from the tank:
One lady, two ladies, three ladies…
One man, two men, three men…
American, German, Chinese, Brazilian,
Indian, Russian…
The fish is counting! ! !
Counting the people in the lab!
Maybe they learned the counting from Gundi,
Gundi is a great mathematician,
She always counts when she watches them:
One fish, two fish, three fish…
Red fish, black fish, red-black fish…
That’s our first fish year,
we expect to have the second, the third,
and then for ever.
poem by Dongming Zhou
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Deep Waters
I am every where-
all immersion-
surrounding you;
yet you cannot see me;
my name's unknown
my love unknighted;
not shown.
I give you my All
you swim in it
suffused with that joy
which
is unknown
to even itself.
You come and you go
and I labor in this love
giving birth
to you in my soupy midst;
seeing your dreams small
and large grow tall and fit.
I see them swim away too soon
swim away
because
I am water
and you are fish.
I surround you in my dreams at night;
you swim in your world
unaware of me.
But your mouth opens and opens again
drinking of me
which gives you life;
keeps you alive
in the dream world we share.
Above the water line
is the other world
of boats steamers and reality
But here below
under my cover,
it is only
you and I
but only I in the end
since fish you know
never
discover
water-
until
its gone.
We are all fish then
unaware of the dreamy water world
which makes fish possible.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Pierre The Penquin
'I have just been swimming to catch my fish. I have 3, I love fish it is absolutely delicious, I don’t want them cooked, I can’t see the sense in that, I will eat them raw one by one and savor every bite. They are cold and slippery to slide down my throat. I will eat my fish first, then I might go for another swim, or I might go for a snooze for a while.'
Who knows?
Pierre the penguin has just been swimming,
to catch his evening meal.
He does not need a boat for this,
or a rod or reel.
He can swim very fast,
and catch his fish quite easily.
Pierre is well equipped for this,
has you all can see.
He has a flipper on each leg,
that makes him very strong.
So, when he goes swimming,
he can stay out there quite long.
The fish are cold and slippery,
to slide down Pierre's throat.
The oil in the fish,
gives Pierre his lovely coat.
After his meal,
he might go for another swim,
or he might go for a snooze.
Which one do you think,
Pierre, should really choose?
poem by Pamela lutwyche
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drench
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
In up to our necks
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
There's a light there to steer it
A fear that is peeling
And soaking us up
Into a slow-motion freezer
Division is leaving
Everything stops
It's overexposure
Stop running off on me
It's overexposure
Stop running off
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
In up to our necks
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Did you forget what you came in for?
Still shaking the rain off
Fresh from the storm
So we saved up the good stuff
And scrapped for the liferaft
Pistols at dawn
It's overexposed
And only tits and teeth remain
It's overexposed
Keep your filthy hands off
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
Had it up to here
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
Had it up to here
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
In up to our necks
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
Had it up to here
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Fish us out
Fish us out
Fish us out
Fish us out
And it looks enough for all of us to get soaked...
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tall Story part two
There is a bridge that crosses over a river
A river that is eerie and makes you quiver
With the light of the moon the river will gleam
and a boat will go sailing, on its own down
stream. The mist will come from out of the trees
and horrible sounds can be heard in the breeze.
It sounded like cats caught up in a fight a claim
for territory in the dead of night, but cats never fight
on the waters edge just in case they fall over the ledge.
A river bank full of matted reeds where plants had died
without dispersing their seeds.A man dressed in green
who paddles the stream who can be seen clear in the
moonlit beam.Sometimes you hear him digging on
the side of the river bank, could this be true or is it
some sort of a prank
A river full of alge green and that's how it had
always been. No carp, no bream no fish to fish not
even a place for a secret wish.
No river bank wildlife to give it grace, just run over the
bridge and get out of this place.
The story tells of a robber who stood about three feet
tall and because of his height he couldent climbe over
the wall. Now behind the wall was the river which spread
down far and wide and the man in green had a problem
because he could'nt get to the other side.So he hid the
loot inside his boot and started to dig under the wall
but as he dug the water flooded in and he sank to
the bottom of the pool.
Apart from one thing he could not swim and the weight
of the loot that was in his boot no doubt made him take
root.If you go to the river and see the man in green, then
please come back and tell us what you have seen.
This is a tall story one with a short tale, I am sorry it
didn't excit you, but my next one wont fail.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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Fortune Fish
Fortune fish from the sea,
Come and bring good luck to me.
I need some luck brought my way,
Swim through the currents to me today.
Fish of fate and destiny,
I ask you to hear my plea.
Fortune fish from the sea,
Come and bring good luck to me.
Fish of kismet please swim near,
I wish for positive karma here.
Fortune fish from the sea,
Come and bring good luck to me.
poem by Eileen Hardy
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A Wreath To The Fish
Who is this fish, still wearing its wealth,
flat on my drainboard, dead asleep,
its suit of mail proof only against the stream?
What is it to live in a stream,
to dwell forever in a tunnel of cold,
never to leave your shining birthsuit,
never to spend your inheritance of thin coins?
And who is the stream, who lolls all day
in an unmade bed, living on nothing but weather,
singing, a little mad in the head,
opening her apron to shells, carcasses, crabs,
eyeglasses, the lines of fisherman begging for
news from the interior-oh, who are these lines
that link a big sky to a small stream
that go down for great things:
the cold muscle of the trout,
the shinning scrawl of the eel in a difficult passage,
hooked-but who is this hook, this cunning
and faithful fanatic who will not let go
but holds the false bait and the true worm alike
and tears the fish, yet gives it up to the basket
in which it will ride to the kitchen
of someone important, perhaps the Pope
who rejoices that his cook has found such a fish
and blesses it and eats it and rises, saying,
"Children, what is it to live in the stream,
day after day, and come at last to the table,
transfigured with spices and herbs,
a little martyr, a little miracle;
children, children, who is this fish?"
poem by Nancy Willard
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