Fishing boats
In the late afternoon
fishing boats come out of the waves
and like ministers
tiller men stand behind white pulpits.
Boats jump
over the last waves to the quay
and are drawn with cables
onto trailers,
before pickups and cars
drive into the parking lot
pulling motorboats.
There are red roman, snook
and cod
and fresh fish are everywhere in the boats.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
A Paumanok Picture
TWO boats with nets lying off the sea-beach, quite still,
Ten fishermen waiting--they discover a thick school of mossbonkers--
they drop the join'd seine-ends in the water,
The boats separate and row off, each on its rounding course to the
beach, enclosing the mossbonkers,
The net is drawn in by a windlass by those who stop ashore,
Some of the fishermen lounge in their boats, others stand ankle-deep
in the water, pois'd on strong legs,
The boats partly drawn up, the water slapping against them,
Strew'd on the sand in heaps and windrows, well out from the water,
the green-back'd spotted mossbonkers.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Burning The Boats
The government have announced
That london bridge is to be closed
Under the full moon of may the third
All the light houses and seaside roads
No I never heard I never read in the news
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Tap, tap, tap, birds that sing,
Telephone calls that do not ring,
One, two, three, whats the time ?
Whos that hanging off my line ?
I know that nothing lasts for ever
And Im just waiting for the sun to set
Blowing dust from my loud hailer, on the roof.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
The ministry of co-operation
Are washed and hanging on the line
Theres a million burning questions
To set the thames alight
Now Ive joined an exclusive club
Just by being more than poor
I saw the deputy chairman, on the floor.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fishing Village From Across The Bay
The quiet solitude
of brown fishing boats,
anchors weighed,
riding gently, the soft
movement of the calm waters.
Silent slapping. As the waves
kiss the sides of the boats,
their masts tall and strung
with spiderweb riggings.
Loose canvas flaps idly with
the passing of a breeze,
tugging against the anchor.
Tiredly, the sun continues
its slow journey home, reaching
honey-gold fingers of warmth
through the blanket of clouds.
The orb of power-filled
light-giving energy gives one last
defiant flash as it breaks momentarily
through the clouds.
A dog barks from across the bay
and white puffs of smoke
rise slowly, lazily to meet
the clouds. The sleepy village
readies itself for the sleep
that will bring the new day,
and the sun, rested
from its duties of the day before.
The waves continue to lap
gently against the fishing boats,
Silhouetted gently against the
golden stretch of water from across the bay.
Silence sets in and prayers are
said before bed, and good night
kisses are exchanged and
then the lights are extinguished,
from across the bay.
poem by Kevin Parkin
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The Fisher's Widow
The boats go out and the boats come in
Under the wintry sky;
And the rain and foam are white in the wind,
And the white gulls cry.
She sees the sea when the wind is wild
Swept by a windy rain;
And her heart's a-weary of sea and land
As the long days wane.
She sees the torn sails fly in the foam,
Broad on the sky-line gray;
And the boats go out and the boats come in,
But there's one away.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Vic 10
And to our enemies
let lightning hit their boats
let all thunders destroy their ears
let there be holes in their hulls
let there be fire on their sails
and let their boats sink
let the big waves drown
all of them
and then you pass by with wings on your feet
laughing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trains And Boats And Planes
Trains and boats and planes are passing by
They mean a trip to Paris or Rome
To someone else but not for me
The trains and boats and planes
Took you away, away from me
We were so in love, and high above
We had a star to wish upon. Wish
And dreams come true, but not for me
The trains and boats and planes
Took you away, away from me
You are from another part of the world
You had to go back a while and then
You said you soon would return again
I'm waiting here like I promised to
I'm waiting here but where are you?
Trains and boats and planes took you a way
But every time I see them I pray
And if my prayers can cross the sea
The trains and the boats and planes
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Boats Down From The Candy
(lyrics: derek dick)
Three boats down from the candy, vacant deckchairs on a floodlit beach
Three boats down from the candy, rollers coast invade the deepest sleep
Three boats down from the candy, carnal dancer let their senses preach
Its a social disease, its the new moral cancer
Dont think crying wolf will give you the answer
You ask for my love on the strength of a kiss
But cant you just play for experience?
Im a poet, Im a poet, Im a minstrel, Im a minstrel
I dont need your chains
Romance lies in ruin let debauchery reign, let it rain
Wipe the tears from your eyes, wipe the sweat from your thighs
Dont crawl to me with sentiment, my laughter drowns your cries
Youre a memory trapped on polaroid, a puppet drawn on celluloid
So drink the wine, confess your sin, just flotsam in a silent void
Three boats down from the candy
Ill remember you
Three boats down from the candy, much to much to lose
Three boats down from the candy, those words were never true
Three boats down from the candy
Ill remember you
Ill remember you
Ill remember you
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Then, there was Greenpeace, I remember that when they first started out with the boats in the waters, and the guys in the boats between the whales and the boats that will hunting the whales with spear guns.
quote by Rick Danko
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Safe Harbour
As the light starts to fade, at the end of the day,
And the last rays of sunset cascade on the bay.
The fishing boats set sail, their little lamps a glow,
Off to deeper waters and the school of fish below.
Along the granite, harbor wall, the lime washed cottage stands,
The little wind swept coastal path to the causeway and sands.
At the point a lighthouse giving out its light,
Protecting the wayward mariner as he sails on through the night.
For generations have come and gone, it’s always been that way,
As tide rolls in with the fishing boats that signals break of day.
poem by Nicholas Windle
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Paper Boats
Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running
stream.
In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of
the village where I live.
I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and
know who I am.
I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and
hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land
in the night.
I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the
little clouds setting thee white bulging sails.
I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down
the air to race with my boats!
When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my
paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.
The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins
their baskets full of dreams.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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At Hout Bay the fishing trawler sails out
At Hout Bay the fishing trawler sails out
while the rain pours down
like water out of God’s hosepipe
with engines roaring in the ears
and clouds of smoke hang over the boats
with every fisherman for a moment being caught
in a own world while fog whirl about the boats
that rocks up and down to the harbour mouth.
The waves crash, the sea foams and bubbles
and “my girlfriend has a good lover, ”
is sung by one while the trawler sets its course
on the look out for barracouta, cod and sea trout.
“Look at the shining bodies, tons of trout, they are running free, ”
a fisherman shouts against the wind that pulls and pulls on the boat.
“Salmon man, salmon” roars the tiller man back and walls of water
roll past and the boat turns to get fishing gear ready.
“My girlfriend has a good lover and he’s a gelded goat, ”
the tune goes on and something clatters down
drawing the attention of the fishermen and the water shines
and when the boat is full they tell jokes that they guffaw at.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Like That Idea
i like the idea of what boats are meant for
i told you once
boats are meant to sail
far to the sea
and dissolve in the horizon
till they are gone
till they sink
to the bottom of the sea
and kiss its floor
and become the
permanent ornaments
of the corrals and sands
but i like your idea too
of boats
like mine sailing to the farthest sea
of boats like yours
that come back and embrace again
the welcoming arms
of the ports and the shores
and hear the sounds
of men and women
and children
all rejoicing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Storm at sea
Storm at sea -
fishing boats
tossed about
in the spume
of giant waves.
Each pause
in the onslaught
like being offered
a last cigarette
before they blindfold
you.
poem by John O'connell
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At Lambert's Bay The Fishing Trawlers Sail Out
At Lambert's Bay the fishing trawlers sail out
where clouds of smoke hang over the boats
while the rain pours down in buckets.
The waves hit, the sea foams and bubble,
it looks as if a storm is rising
and 'my girlfriend has a fine fellow, '
one sings in darkness before he starts whistling
where clouds of smoke hang over the boats.
At Lambert's Bay the fishing trawlers sail out
seeking snoek, cod and sea-trout
and the boat turns to get out fishing gear,
it looks as if a storm is rising
and the men wait on the sea's first gifts
with rain like only God's hosepipe brings
while the rain pours down in buckets.
'Look at that shining bodies, tons of trout, they are running free, '
the song continues and something falls down
and the boat turns to get out fishing gear,
with engines roaring loudly
every fisherman is caught for a moment.
At Lambert's Bay the fishing trawlers sail out
'my girlfriend has a fine fellow and he is a wild goat, '
one sings against the wind with more joining voices,
the song continues and something falls down
and the tiller-man wonders about the sudden rain
but the fishermen are catching
while the rain pours down in buckets
they are standing ready but half-blinded
'Where are we going on the wide, wide sea'
one sings against the wind with more joining voices,
gigantic waves hits and pulls the boat
and some fishermen are scared.
At Lambert's Bay the fishing trawlers sail out
while the rain pours down in buckets
while the fishermen sing their song:
'The waves hit, the sea foams and bubble, '
'where are we going on the wide, wide sea'
and 'my girlfriend has a fine fellow.'
[Reference: Barracouta is known in South-Africa as 'snoek.']
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Lake
The lake so grand, boats afloat
all sizes and shapes
pontoons, yachts, sails and fishing boat
people from all over and all ages
every wave so beautiful as the they stroll ashore
from white caps to rolling wave. the flow so endless
the boats flowing so gentling across the water
the fish swimming so free under the water
teasing the fishermen, steal the bait
the lake is the place to be on this fine day
God creation for all to enjoy
take the moment and view the lake
It so grand and so free
poem by Michael Peterson
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Fishing house
Memories are grumbling.
The kettles are rumbling.
Fishing house, where the boats float innocent waves.
Glow reflected by the water,
Sandy seabed, my eyes remind.
Of the grey mullet fish, and furry cat fish.
Crabs hide and seek, stones and reefs,
So pure currents within the water stream.
Under the bridge, the seaweed adorns
the rumours of waves slamming pillars.
A boat passing near,
sail the nets and hunt the eels.
Ropes become tangled,
where dry seahorses running no more.
The recall of the water, reflect the nets that I drown,
to catch the girl I loved.
poem by Luca Menin
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Enough Said
“Votes for women! ”
Was the cry.
Reaching upward,
To the sky.
Crashing glass,
And flashing eye-
“Votes for women! ”
Was the cry.
“Boats for women! ”
Was the cry.
When the men
Were come to die.
When the end
Was drawing nigh
“Boats for women! ”
Was the cry.
Life has many
Little tests.
Insignificant
As jests.
Doubt and bitterness
Assail.
But “boats for women! ”
Tells the tale.
poem by Jeremy Eddy
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Let There Be Hope
Boats afloat,
across an ocean moat
Sailing away,
a tyrants torment
With joyous rapture,
T'ward a life content.
rickety, leaking boat
Let there be hope.
Boats of hope,
human tragedy afloat
Sailing away,
a homelands fear
On terrorful waves
Closer now, sanctuary near.
listing, ailing boat,
Let there be hope.
Boats without hope,
Human misery, afloat
Sailing away,
from a life content
With sorrow filled hearts.
recapitulated, now their torment.
Scuttled, sinking boat,
let there be hope.
Boats nae float,
beneath an ocean moat
Sailing away,
a savior of deception
An islands hopeless souls
shattered dreams of redemption.
Fractured, sunken boat
let there be hope.
Stop the boats afloat,
across an ocean moat
Sailing t'ward,
asylum signed veracious
People who pride, 'fair go '
ah, but leaders are mendacious.
Rickety, Leaking Shattered Boat
please, let there be hope.
poem by Phil Charters
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A Boat on the Sea
A BOAT on the sea, my boat,
Eager and frail!
Sweet skies, smile as you look
On that fairy sail.
Waves, great waves, many years
You have worked your will.
Just while she passes through,
Kind waves, be still.
Winds—and I may not ask
That you never blow,
But spare her the moaning note
That the old boats know.
poem by Ethel Turner
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When the Fishing Boats Go Out
When the lucent skies of morning flush with dawning rose once more,
And waves of golden glory break adown the sunrise shore,
And o'er the arch of heaven pied films of vapor float.
There's joyance and there's freedom when the fishing boats go out.
The wind is blowing freshly up from far, uncharted caves,
And sending sparkling kisses o'er the brows of virgin waves,
While routed dawn-mists shiveroh, far and fast they flee,
Pierced by the shafts of sunrise athwart the merry sea!
Behind us, fair, light-smitten hills in dappled splendor lie,
Before us the wide ocean runs to meet the limpid sky
Our hearts are full of poignant life, and care has fled afar
As sweeps the white-winged fishing fleet across the harbor bar.
[Page 35]
The sea is calling to us in a blithesome voice and free,
There's keenest rapture on its breast and boundless liberty!
Each man is master of his craft, its gleaming sails out-blown,
And far behind him on the shore a home he calls his own.
Salt is the breath of ocean slopes and fresher blows the breeze,
And swifter still each bounding keel cuts through the combing seas,
Athwart our masts the shadows of the dipping sea-gulls float,
And all the water-world's alive when the fishing boats go out.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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