After his Death
It turned out
that the bombs he had thrown
raised buildings:
that the acid he had sprayed
had painfully opened
the eyes of the blind.
Fishermen hauled
prizewinning fish
from the water he had polluted.
We sat with astonishment
enjoying the shade
of the vicious words he had planted.
The government decreed that
on the anniversary of his birth
the people should observe
two minutes pandemonium.
poem by Norman MacCaig
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
The Canal
when I go to school,
I have to walk by side of a canal
I would be curios to see fish and crabs
But when I look into water these days
I saw garbage thrown in the water.
There are no creatures living in water
The garbage blocks the flow of water
The water is thoroughly polluted.
Like this everywhere its happening
We all are responsible for it.
poem by Shaleeka V.p
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mirrors Of Our Time
THE ECONOMY is a hose.
The Government collects water from the people
and pours it into the top of the hose
and gives it back to the people.
Near the top of the hose is a hole.
A lot of the water pours out of this into a tank
marked Government which is always empty.
The rest flows down towards the people.
It passes other holes marked
Government Agencies
Government buildings
Government contingencies
Government perks
There are also holes marked
Lawyers
Accountants
Criminals.
The Government is always trying
to stop these last three holes.
Finally what is left of the water
reaches people at the end of the hose.
The people fight over it
(it is never enough) .
When they get very thirsty they start
to throw stones at the government
and threaten to sack them.
The government then reluctantly
pours more water into the top of the hose
(which they get from the people) .
Finally when the people are very thirsty indeed,
under the leadership of the
Lawyers
Accountants
and other Criminals,
they attack the tank marked Government
and break it open.
It is always empty.
Then many of the people die
(except for the Lawyers, Accountants
and other Criminals.)
The survivors go off and look for a new well,
drink as much as they can
as quickly as they can
and wait for a new Government to find them.
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
My Unhappy Anniversary
You ask me, how am I?
Well I'm still standing, aren't I?
That's something, that's one thing , that's gone my way
It's so hard, to go out, like everything ok now
When inside, I still cry for yesterday
This is my unhappy anniversary! !
But I lie, saying it's just another day
This is my unhappy anniversary! !
I know it's so stupid to feel brokenhearted
I wonder if you know just how much I hurt
I drink up and think up a toast to numb the hours
To get through without you is so hard today
Cause it's unhappy anniversary! !
And now it's near midnight, a few minutes and I
Return to get back to my former life
Pretending our ending was not so bad, I know that
It's time to escape you until next year
When it's unhappy anniversary! !
This is my unhappy anniversary
But I smile like it's just another day
It's just my unhappy anniversary
poem by Vivek Khanna
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fishhook
The dead are raised up and many are shocked!
For the blind receive their sight to tell a story;
So come and let me show you the lepers who are cleansed.
The lame do walk and the deaf do hear,
But now the day is almost over on this love that muses;
For the water bottles of the heavens are lying under the lotus trees.
Life is like the boiling pot on the fire and,
To pull out Babylon with a fishhook!
For my friends have afflicted me with their words and,
Now around me are wells without water in them.
Beguiling unstable souls,
Of eyes full of fornications!
And in the uncleanness of their lust they fell into the deep waters.
They allured through the lust of their flesh but,
I need a fish's hook to stand up strong by the water side;
And like the early and the latter rains in the land of destruction.
Sleep like he slept and pray like he prayed,
Walk like he walked and cook like he cooked,
For i have seen eyes full of adultery around me!
And the blind received their sight to tell a story.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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South Africa Is Also My Country
From my birth South Africa is my own country
and my people can flee to an island
but my own culture and language stays holy
although this place is not safe,
I still trust on a much higher hand,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
even if the struggling government gives me resistance,
do oppress me with unfair laws,
even if nothing can stop the disintegration,
even if I am not safe against the onslaught,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country,
even if some act with effrontery against my people
I come from a noble heritage,
I am proud on my Afrikaner lineage,
even if people and buildings are set alight,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
with no other place I have such a deep bond
and even if here I will never have any job,
I believe in God and a Christian church,
God himself still keeps my ways intact,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anarchists
The leaders of this country,
Think were the ones that do wrong,
They take control of the power,
and steal this land of forgotten freedom
Its not the people afraid of the government,
Its the government afraid of the people
They call the ones dressed in black,
The evil ones but we fight back,
We've got hackers, we've got protesters,
we let no man left behind
Its not the people afraid of the government,
Its the government afraid of the people
The unions dressed in black,
With their flag raised up high,
Don't take no for an answer,
As the forces stain the streets with blood
Its not the people afraid of the government,
Its the government afraid of the people
We fight for the people,
Our obligation is good as gold,
And though we fight with arms of steel,
we don't let death go in vein
Its not the people afraid of the government,
Its the government afraid of the people
poem by Bing D'Amico
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unhappy Anniversary
You ask me, how am i?
Well Im still standing, arent i?
Thats something, thats one thing thats gone my way
Its so hard, to go out, like everything ok now
When inside, I still cry for yesterday
1:
This is my unhappy anniversary
But I lie, saying its just another day
This is my unhappy anniversary, oh
I know its so stupid to feel brokenhearted
I wonder if you know just how much I hurt
I drink up and think up a toast to numb the hours
To get through without you is so hard today
Cause its
Repeat 1
And now its near midnight, a few minutes and i
Return to get back to my former life
Pretending our ending was not so bad, I know that
Its time to escape you until next year
When its
Repeat 1
This is my unhappy anniversary
But I smile like its just another day
Its just my unhappy anniversary
Its just my unhappy anniversary
song performed by by Vitamin C
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Water Is Not Water
Just not wet anymore.
Won't work as a door stop.
Must have some water.
WATER-WATER-WATER-WATER
In the baby bottle, SMALL BOTTLE-ok.
Just thirsty.
Want some cold WATER? ?
We don't have any water.
CRY-CRY-CRY, tears are water.
BUT-there not wet NOW.
TEARS NOT WET - TEARS NOT WET.
ACID RAIN no pain.
ACID RAIN no pain.
ACID RAIN no pain.
DRIP rain drops - DRIP.
Clouds full of ACID RAIN.
CRY-CRY-CRY-CRY.
11/24/2006 Joe Poewhit
scribbleclub.com - defunct
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It soothes like love
And gives meaning to the words
To deceptive glitters of the eyes
Searching the starlit sky
Polluted by too many streetlights
Of some streets that wind
The serpent curves of the heart
Blind cornered space
Where words and eyes should meet
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fish Out Of Water
I feel so out of place here
With this high society
These high fallutin people
Dont know what to make of me
I feel like a minnow in a sea of moby dicks
A small fry in a big pan
Theyre caviar -- Im fish sticks
Fish out of water
I know I dont belong
Fish out of water
Everything I do is wrong
My style of hair, the clothes I wear
The way I speak, the things I eat
The way I act, my lack of tact
Nothin seems to fit
Fish out of water
Flounderin round
Out of my element
But Im just as good as they are
Why do I feel second rate
Its like, sorry charlie,
We want only tuna with good taste
I guess you could say wal-mart
Is quite a way from guccis
Im timex, theyre rolex
Im captain ds, theyre sushi
Fish out of water
Ive had it to the gills
Fish out of water
With these yuppie-guppie frills
Yeah, Im a square in a round hole
A catfish in a goldfish bowl
A little fish with lots of soul
Out of my element
Fish out of water
Flounderin round just for the halibut
Save me, save me
S.o.s. somebody
Save me, save me
Somebody rescue me
Fish out of water
Somebody throw me in
Fish out of water
On a scale of one to ten
Im a two, perhaps a three
Compared to the big fish in the sea
Im washed ashore so save me please
Im in an awful fix
Fish out of water
Rescue me
And you better do it quick
Fish out of water
Its such a culture shock
Fish out of water
My stomachs tied in knots
Fish out of water
Fish out of water
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing is so galling to a people not broken in from the birth as a paternal, or in other words a meddling government, a government which tells them what to read and say and eat and drink and wear.
quote by Thomas W. Higginson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing is so galling to a people not broken in from birth as a paternal, or, in other words, a meddling government, a government which tells them what to read, and say, and eat, and drink and wear.
quote by Thomas Babington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing is so galling to a people not broken in from the birth as a paternal, or, in other words, a meddling government, a government which tells them what to read, and say, and eat, and drink and wear.
quote by Thomas B. Macaulay
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Old Fisher In The Green
A man, this man, alone in the green,
a little, tiny sand, a speck in the sea.
He used to be a torrent, a veritable blizzard,
ready to weather the storms, this strong fisher.
Then these little fish, to him flocked,
and his heart gave in, collapsed in him, and gave him quite a start.
He took the fish and laid it out, gave it his breath,
and as it looked, its eyes glowed hot, and took from him the rest.
Then it became a fisherman, but one that knew its gift,
it indeed was a fisherman who helped its once-known kin,
what a wondrous man this fish did make, reveling in this skin,
it indeed was a better fisherman who helped its once-known kin.
And so this old fisherman, living on his last breath,
lived only to help the fish he helped, until his last, his death.
His last was given to a fish he deemed demure, a wriggling sickly thing,
he gave it his last, he did, he did, though it remained a fish.
He gave his all, he did, he did, till this fish became enlarged,
yet still not a man did it make, but instead became in charge,
a shark it made, it did, it did, and it hounded out,
till once again, it did, it hid, became the rounder out.
The fishermen were thrown on their guards, this shark was so enlarged,
till all was dust upon the sea, and the old man was set free.
The vision just though may it be,
became but dust upon the sea
till all was dust to dust upon the sea,
and the old man, weak, was at last set free.
poem by Kevin Maroney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bombay
'Bomb-Bay'!
Of the bomb attacks on the Hotels in Bombay like 'Bomb-Bay';
But, why should some people kill others?
Our body needs fuel than bombs,
This life needs peace than bombs,
So try to be a role model to others than killing them.
Don't force them to eat what they don't want to,
And don't throw bombs around to kill the people around you;
For, why should i congratulate you of your bomb attacks? ! !
Life is very peacefully so,
Live and let us live too!
And, why throw the bombs against others to kill them?
Bombs in Bombay,
Why should the sweet fragrance of your love be destroyed always?
Why should the negative people around us always carry along bombs?
For words cannot express my sorrow and,
I will never forget this day.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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