Governing a great nation is like cooking a small fish - too much handling will spoil it.
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Well, it is true that they did - the Pentagon did impose rules for governing the handling of the Koran in January of 2003, after there had been complaints about the handling of the Koran from detainees, from the International Red Cross.
quote by Michael Isikoff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Govern a great nation as you would cook a small fish. Do not overdo it.
For Manny V. On His Election Campaign Strategy
Campaign to a great nation
As you would cook a small fish.
Please
Do not overdo it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fish of a Different Color
Big fish and small fish
Swimming here in this pond
Fast fish and slow fish
And now one is gone
Poor, foolish fishes
Just make a few stronger
And watch how these fishes
Devour each other
To be the small fish
I'm sure none would bother
But oh, don't you wish
You could make the pond smaller?
I've found my own niche
To live my life fuller
For I am a fish
Of a different color
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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I don't like gourmet cooking or ""this"" cooking or ""that"" cooking. I like good cooking.
quote by James Beard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The fish in me
Iam vegan, but! There is a fish in me.
The selfishness in me starts fuming,
..Every now and then makes me feel like crawl,
I make my world as small as possible,
Am I selfish?
Whenever “this fish” dominates
Its only one letter work “I”, “I” and “I”, I ponder
“This fish” screech
What about me? ? What about me? ?
This fish is whirling in the sea of jealousy,
I wish this sea of jealousy get dried up
And the fish to die in want of water.
poem by Tara Chettur
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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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Kolkata is a great city, has great food and great people. We had some problems finding the kind of old buildings we were looking for, and even handling the crowds, but on the whole it was fun shooting there.
quote by Sanjay Dutt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I sometimes think the chef end of cooking is not the real end of cooking. Cooking is all about homes and gardens, it doesn't happen in restaurants.
quote by Delia Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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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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We are a nation in which freedom is alive in the squares and streets, in the daily work of the communications media, in the open relationship between the governing and the governed.
quote by Vicente Fox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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notes from Brigs
how big can that fish be inside
a small fishbowl
how crowded can such a small space
appear with it and a seaweed with three leaves that reach the surface of the water
how small can that big fish be in that fishbowl
when it is thrown to the sea
how insignificant can it become?
how the waves can simply lose it
like an atom of air in space that we cannot see?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One must be entirely sensitive to the structure of the material that one is handling. One must yield to it in tiny details of execution, perhaps the handling of the surface or grain, and one must master it as a whole.
quote by Barbara Hepworth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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MaMa's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
It's an assortment of goodie things
Chocolate, pies and banana pudding
Enough food and that's Mama's cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Apron in hand and lasting impression I didn't want to miss
Everything seem perfect from beginning to end
Enough food and that's Mama's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Smiling faces and a gentle speech of o.k.
Noone knows how much the void I can't fill
Enough food and that Mama's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Being polite and sincere would carry the weight
Seemingly enough she has the greater plan
Enough food and that Mama's Cooking ahead
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
The napkins, plates and never-ending why didn't it last
Noone knows how much the void I can't fill
Enough food and that's Mama's Cooking again
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Craving for the turkey and dressing pan
Not to admit, seemed a bit much
Enough Food and that's Mama's Cooking again
So nowadays, I look for the needle in the haystack
Wishing on the times, she would come back
It's been 10 years, since I said thoughs word's
Enough food and that Mama's blessing for us
Missing mom everyday becomes second-nature for me
Enough food, Enough love and One day she'll see
For know I'll take her spirits with me and others will speak
Enough food, Enough love and One day she'll see
poem by Natasha McGee
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Our Epitaph
Here lies the greatest civilization ever developed upon this earth
The finest and best hope that all men could be free, self-governing
and prosperous, and that the burden of excessive toll, disease
and poverty could be lifted from the backs of men
This great civilization died not as a result of external agression,
but from internal crumbling of the character of its people
The people had become so luxury-loving and soft that they would
not exert themselves in their own defense
A malignant disease that might be described as a maudlin sympahty
for ones enemies seemed to paralyze their will
Here lies the nation that sacrificed its life in an effort to gain
the goodwill and friendship of its enemies
Here lies the people who abandoned their priceless heritage of
patriotism, religious faith and truth for the socialism that
sapped their manhood
Here lies the nation that abandoned the faith of its fathers who
had made it great; for the cynical skepticism and atheism of
its enemies
Here lies the nation that died from loss of faith in God, loss of
pride and confidence in itself, and a loss of the will to defend
itself against both its internal and external enemies
Here lies the United States
poem by John Leroy Maxwell
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A Whale Of A Poem
Recently,
As stories go,
A tale was told,
About an old man,
And a fish,
He really wasn't a real fish!
He was a whale you know!
Anyways,
It seems that fish shallowed the man,
And inside the fish he did live,
Seven days and seven nights.
Oh what a fright,
That man did go through,
He inside of a fish,
Could have easily ended up his dish.
That story although a whopper,
I thought could not have been top,
Except in the second grade,
A student chimed in,
Oh great, now I know where my dad has been!
poem by Nadalia Bagratuni
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The Fish That You Caught With Your Fishing Rod
the fish that you caught with your fishing rod
while you were alone at sea
tastes more delicious than the one that you
bought in the market
you have worked for it
you waited for long to catch it and hold it with your bare hands
you can still feel the vibrations of the nylon string
which caught the mouth of the fish
that now you are cooking and eating
the excitement still resounds inside your tongue
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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