Gone Fishing
gone fishing...
Wall Street keeps grinding,
bombs keep falling overseas.
the homeless still cry out,
the hungry stare...
and the feeble old man
still needs help...
the air's filled with carbon,
the oceans' filled with oil.
corporate America keeps leeching,
and the rich pay no taxes....
the politicians keep lying,
and the preachers sell eternity.
if it wasnt for all of this...
i'd put up the sign:
GONE FISHING!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Gone Fishing
Im gone fishing
I got me a line
Nothing I do is gonna make the difference
So Im taking the time
And you aint never gonna be happy
Anyhow, anyway
So Im gone fishing
And Im going today
Im gone fishing
Sounds crazy I know
I know nothing about fishing
But just watch me go
And when the time has come
I will look back and see
Peace on the shoreline
That could have been me
You can waste a whole lifetime
Trying to be
What you think is expected of you
But youll never be free
May as well go fishing
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steal
A fishing rod
Stretch into the fishing pond slightly
Sneaking the child
Look around furtively
He did not see
I was at the window
Seeing him
knocked on the window
Ran away the child
Leave a fishing rod
I saw a mouse
Run away like a rushing smoke
The fishing rod
Hung on the iron railing and swayed
Nor fish no fishing rod
The child
The first lesson in life
A cost of stealing
poem by Catherine Yen
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Goodbye Little Colombus
I'm going fishing
I got me a line
Nothin' I do's gonna' make the difference
So I'm taking the time
And you ain't never gonna' be happy
Anyhow, anyway
So I'm going fishing
And I'm going today
I'm going fishing
Sounds crazy I know
I know nothing about fishing
But just watch me go
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bad Day Of Fishing
A bad day of fishing,
Can go a long way.
It beats a good day of work,
Any old day.
Nothing beats fishing, I guarantee,
Listen to what I say.
If you don't like fishing, you'll still agree,
Have a bad fishing day.
11/3/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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The Fishing Poem
Fishing in the moonlight or fishing in the sun;
Fishing for the big ones is fun, fun, fun.
Catching the small ones or none at all,
It’s a great sport to get on the ball.
Good luck on your next trip,
And let’s hope you don’t get sick.
poem by William Sawyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you don't go fishing because you thought it might rain you will never go fishing. This applies to more than fishing.
quote by Gary Sow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishing, Joke On Love
Love is like fishing
It’s a kind of sport, try it and you'll see on what you’re missing
Once caught, it’s all hugs and kissing
And memories of when it happened, reminiscing
When that alarm goes of
And you’ve got one on the hook
There’s nothing that will stop
Or that will help from a book
You just got to lean back and hold onto your net
And hope that you are man enough to hope it don’t get away
Because if you do you will be filled with regret
And on that fishing lake you have to wait and stay
So keep your fish in our grasp
Don’t let it slip out of your clasp
Cause it can happen in a second so fast
So when you get that fish make that experience last
Oceans Of Fantasy
My world is filled with oceans
Oceans of fantasy
The never never land of emotions
Come down and follow me
Youll see the secret places
Where all the rivers end
And pirate ships of old
Filled with diamonds and with gold
Just waiting for a friend
All you can hear is the music of stillness
And pure harmony
Magical mirrors reflecting the light
That colors the sea
Youll be surrounded by angel like creatures
Who tend to your dreams
Deeper and deeper you fall in a trance
Much more real
Much more real than it seems
Come share with me the oceans
Oceans of fantasy
Where you can lose your soul forever
Like in a melody
Oceans of fantasy, oceans of fantasy
Oceans of fantasy, oceans of fantasy
My world is filled with oceans
Oceans of fantasy
The never never land of emotions
Come down and follow me
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Part 4 of Trout Fishing in America
THE AUTOPSY OF
TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA
This is the autopsy of Trout Fishing in America as if Trout
Fishing in America had been Lord Byron and had died in
Missolonghi, Greece, and afterward never saw the shores
of Idaho again, never saw Carrie Creek, Worsewick Hot
Springs, Paradise Creek, Salt Creek and Duck Lake again.
The Autopsy of Trout Fishing in America:
"The body was in excellent state and appeared as one that
had died suddenly of asphyxiation. The bony cranial vault
was opened and the bones of the cranium were found very
hard without any traces of the sutures like the bones of a
person 80 years, so much so that one would have said that
the cranium was formed by one solitary bone. . . . The
meninges were attached to the internal walls of the cranium
so firmly that while sawing the bone around the interior to
detach the bone from the dura the strength of two robust men
was not sufficient. . . . The cerebrum with cerebellum
weighed about six medical pounds. The kidneys were very
large but healthy and the urinary bladder was relatively
small. "
On May 2, 1824, the body of Trout Fishing in America
left Missolonghi by ship destined to arrive in England on the
evening of June 29, 1824.
Trout Fishing in America's body was preserved in a cask
holding one hundred-eighty gallons of spirits: 0, a long way
from Idaho, a long way from Stanley Basin, Little Redfish
Lake, the Big Lost River and from Lake Josephus and the
Big Wood River.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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Passion's Pride
Alone.........I sit
By the fishing hole
Didn't bring don't need
...No fishing pole
Just want to catch
A breath of air
..And reconcile
Distraught..despair
..For in my slumber
Though wide awake
Passion's pride
Fueled my mistake
..And now..so alone am I
By the fishing hole
Didn't bring..don't need
...No fishing pole
Author's note:
.....Just the way life is.........sometimes.....
poem by James B. Earley
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Your Fishing Pole
There is something about you, something in your soul
something that seems to surround your fishing pole….
You moved to the coast, now that’s no lie
And we had a hard time with that little goodbye
But no need for heartache, no need to console
You had your boat and your fishing pole.
You know everyday you go out to fish
it’s like a genie granting every little wish
every time that bobber goes out of control
we know you are happy with your fishing pole.
Now on birthdays it’s special out on the water
I hear if you’re there, they’ll jump for the slaughter
You’ll be piling them in like your lucks on a roll
Reeling them in with your fishing pole
So today of all days take heed and relax
Pack up a cooler with drinks and some snacks
put on your shoes and go take a stroll
Down to your boat with your fishing pole.
poem by Kathleen J. Shields
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But, I Can't Stop Fishing! ! !
But, I can't stop fishing,
I told my new wife.
It's an integral part,
Of all young men's lifes.
But she laid down the law,
It was fishing or her.
Get rid of the tackle,
The rods and the lures.
She wanted no part,
Of those smelly fish.
To tell you the truth,
She was really a...pain.
Well I don't know what happened,
But after a while,
She just let it go,
Like a bright eyed little child.
And I took her fishing,
For the first time in her life.
And she caught more than me,
My wonderful new wife.
It's close to forty years now,
And she never stays home.
She says it's not right,
That I go fishing alone.
12/21/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Part 1 of Trout Fishing in America
THE COVER FOR
TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA
The cover for Trout Fishing in America is a photograph taken
late in the afternoon, a photograph of the Benjamin Franklin
statue in San Francisco's Washington Square.
Born 1706--Died 1790, Benjamin Franklin stands on a
pedestal that looks like a house containing stone furniture.
He holds some papers in one hand and his hat in the other.
Then the statue speaks, saying in marble:
PRESENTED BY
H. D. COGSWELL
TO OUR
BOYS AND GIRLS
WHO WILL SOON
TAKE OUR PLACES
AND PASS ON.
Around the base of the statue are four words facing the
directions of this world, to the east WELCOME, to the west
WELCOME, to the north WELCOME, to the south WELCOME.
Just behind the statue are three poplar trees, almost leafless
except for the top branches. The statue stands in front
of the middle tree. All around the grass is wet from the
rains of early February.
In the background is a tall cypress tree, almost dark like
a room. Adlai Stevenson spoke under the tree in 1956, before
a crowd of 40, 000 people.
There is a tall church across the street from the statue
with crosses, steeples, bells and a vast door that looks like
a huge mousehole, perhaps from a Tom and Jerry cartoon,
and written above the door is 'Per L'Universo.'
Around five o'clock in the afternoon of my cover for
Trout Fishing in America, people gather in the park across
the street from the church and they are hungry.
It's sandwich time for the poor.
But they cannot cross the street until the signal is given.
Then they all run across the street to the church and get
their sandwiches that are wrapped in newspaper. They go
back to the park and unwrap the newspaper and see what their
sandwiches are all about.
A friend of mine unwrapped his sandwich one afternoon
and looked inside to find just a leaf of spinach. That was all.
Was it Kafka who learned about America by reading the
autobiography of Benjamin Franklin..............
Kafka who said, 'I like the Americans because they are healthy
and optimistic.'
poem by Richard Brautigan
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The Damned Truth
i am absolutely enraged at the current political state of this country.
shutdown, no shutdown, last minute hysterics, cant pay our soldiers,
but the politicians damn sure gonna get paid!
this isnt a game, it's not a joke, it's not one hand trumps the other!
what we are dealing with here are the lives and well-being of the
American people... and they're playing chess, and using us as pawns!
we're involved in wars we have no business being involved in, that we
financed because we cant pay for them! we have allowed corporate
America to sell out our jobs for a higher profit margin.
we have raped our environment. we've sold our children into sexual
slavery. we've traded freedom for manipulation. we've allowed our
educational system to deterioriate.
we've sold out to sex and drugs and the 'big deal'. the American dream is now a nightmare for most of us.
we've become a dishonest, greedy, bigoted, self-righteous, apathetic mess!
everybody wants to point fingers, nobody wants to take responsibility.
it begins at home, with the man or woman in the mirror. and then it comes down to what we will allow to be done to us!
it is time to quit playing republicans and democrats. it's time to be the
American people again! time to be human! and anybody of whatever party that tries to get in the way needs to be kicked out! ! !
i told someone this morning that i know Jefferson's rolling over in his grave.
we dont need more politicians, preachers, or wall street tycoons... we need the people to rise up and be 'people' again... and now's the time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fishing For Something
Fishing for something, On a lake out west,
But; the only thing biting, Mossies are a pest;
I really came to catch a dozen or so trout,
But had to stop, There's a storm come about.
Fishing for something off their pier,
Up at ballarat. On wendouree weir;
Hope to catch some trevally for tea,
But all I caught was an old shoe, silly me.
Fishing for something, I'll need a net,
Try to catch lobster, if I don't I'll be upset,
So I let out the net, and to my surprise today,
5 lobsters, and 1 cheeky dolphin trying to play.
Fishing for something, a minister will do,
As he preaches to the people, the message so true;
About. Love, and kindness, and helping each other,
And telling them too, to help witness to a brother.
Fishing for something, is what we can do,
Help so many, find a way, and not be in a stew;
Don't judge others, and don't start to fight,
But be caring and sharing, lead them to the light.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Fishing For Love
fishing for love, never knowing what you'll get
fishing hard still nothing but you cant quit
catch some, through a few back
fry some up if they don't know how to act
fishing, catch a meal catch a feast
even a guppy is something at least..
poem by Shannon Lowery
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I love To Go Fishing
I love to go fishing everyday,
To the river or the lake.
Up in the morning without delay,
I go fishing soon as I wake.
Down to the water to wet my line,
My float bobbing up and down.
Fishing in the morning, is just so fine,
Your face will never sport a frown.
A big ole catfish, or a little bluegill,
I just don't give a hoot.
I love the way fishing makes me feel,
To me it's like forbidden fruit.
If I get lucky and get a bite,
Then the day is made.
I'll stick around till early night,
Just snoozing in the shade.
1/20/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Big Sky Fishing
Listen very closely and hear that distant splash
Maybe just a big catfish moving out of his nest
When the golden rays of a sunrise hit the water
Time to pull one in because it's fishing at its best
Memories of big sky fishing come flooding back
When I think on my historical family traditions
For this brings to me inner peace and much joy
Big Sky Fishing happens without any conditions
poem by John McCornack
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Windchime Row
A fishing colony by the sea, just beside the beach.
A little street and left and right, five shanties each,
and two more on the right hand side, they're abandoned though,
the fishing colony by the sea I call Windchime Row.
Whenever I happen to be walking down that lane,
I almost never; fail to hear; every now and then,
the wind playing poet with the windchimes, and with many a gentle touch,
composing so many wordless rhymes that speak just as much,
as if a thousand songs were sung, but you have to have the ear,
and the belief in your heart , only then you can hear,
the poetry in the gusts of salty sea breeze, as they come and go,
in the fishing colony by the sea I call Windchime Row.
poem by Abhijit Roy
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My Grandfather
my grandfather drowned
while fishing...
i was only fourteen,
i took the call.
in the whirl of
funeral arrangements,
preachers, headstones,
and old hymns...
too much was forgotten.
he gave me my first
pocket knife, showed me
how to sharpen it....
when i grew up
i sharpened knives
for all the women
in the neighborhood.
i can still remember
him taking me to the depot
to watch the train pass by....
when i see a train now
i sometimes wonder...
if he's on it, and coming
for me.....
a way of life gone...
maybe better in some ways....
my grandfather died while fishing....
the fish won the battle
that night!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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