Fishing For Carp (Hybridanelle)
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and the ringhals till now with eyes brown and unaware
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
when it immediately rears
and girly is ready with the food, ready to deliver
and it gives her a great scare.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and in your mind you are crunching gears
and you wish for her to be anywhere, but right there,
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
and you are angry at the old deceiver
while she brings a tray full of goodies with loving care,
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
luckily she freezes behind you somewhere
and the snake only half alert senses something testing the air
and you wish for her to be anywhere, but right there,
and a nearby tree looks like a quiver
and you are looking for a kind of snare.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and this is now a dangerous affair
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
and the snake only half alert senses something testing the air
slamming down on the snake like with golf driver
and this is it, you have had your share of luck, but still you dare,
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
she screams in fright, while you slam to your right
with your rod whistling
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
and the water shines like silver
and you cuddle her and there's a smile that you share.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
and you think: not again that spitting thing with its deadly sting,
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears,
with your rod whistling
when it immediately rears.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Fishing for carp
Fishing for carp, probably kurper or yellow-fish
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
frying it near to the car on a Cadac frying pan,
(you know how it is)
with a six-pack cooling in the river
and then a sound, a movement making you shiver
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears
and girly is ready with the food, ready to deliver
a tray full of goodies that she made with loving care
and you wish for her to be anywhere
but right there, but luckily she notices the snake
freezes behind you somewhere
and the ringhals till now with eyes brown and unaware
only half awake senses something testing the air
with forked tongue and rears up ready to strike or spit
and this is it, you have had your share of luck, but still you dare
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
you slam to your right
striking the spitting hissing thing and it is flying
and it misses sweetie by a mile and luckily it is the last sight
that you have of it, while she screams in fright
and curses the day, morning sun and night
as a rattled girl sometimes does
and you assure her that every thing is well, is all right
and then unexpectedly you have a bite,
the policeman jumps and you are in for a fight
while the mother of all fishes
struggles to be free and you smite
the other rod, hooking it well and good
and the rites of fishing is well understood
and girly is handy with the catching net,
smiles in a better mood.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
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In The Murk
I know that the Apies River
have a high sewerage content
and there they were
sitting beneath a willow tree
fishing kurper and carp
and from the brown black water,
deep slime and mud,
where you couldn't see anything
in the thick murk
they pulled out
big healthy fishes
that twisted, frisked
trying to get away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Fishing In The River At Autumn Night
The moon shines on the river while autumn wind is blowing.
At night, I invite my friends to go fishing and boating.
Rowing our oars, we seek a shoal of fish gladly.
Mooring to pillar of the bridge, we act quietly.
My partner catches a red carp with his fishing bait.
Shaking its head, the reed wonders the old men's fate.
Is the strategist of Zhou Dynasty still fishing?
No! He migrates to the land of peach blossoms sleeping!
Chinese paintings & calligraphy about all Charles Wu's poems
http: //poem.bestfd.com/bbs/forum.php? mod=viewthread&tid=12101&extra=page%3D1
poem by Charles WOO
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There are a couple of carp fishing books I've been reading. I'm very interested in that line of books, because I think they write very well, carp anglers, about the general environment.
quote by Tom Felton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont Take Your Love Away From Me
(verlon thompson/mark d. sanders)
Well, I pray Im wrong
But I feel you stealin away from me
Your hearts a-beatin to a chain-gang song
Well, you just cant help it if you got be a thief
And steal the thunder from the sky
The water from the river
You can have the winter wind
It only makes me shiver
Take the snow off of the moutain
The wave off of the sea
Dont take your love away from me
Dont take your love away from me
Now tell the truth
I know you did, but do you love me now
One thing Ive learned from a woman like you
It aint safe if it aint nailed down
Steal the thunder from the sky
The water from the river
You can have the winter wind
It only makes me shiver
Take the snow off of the mountain
The wave off of the sea
Dont take your love away from me
Dont take your love away from me
So steal the thunder from the sky
The water from the river
You can have the winter wind
It only makes me shiver
Take the snow off of the mountain
The wave off of the sea
Dont take your love away from me
Dont take your love away from me
Dont take your love away from me
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Siluroid
I am the prize catch
I live in an artificial lake
fed by a nappe phréatique
I was put there to keep
lesser fish: carp
from taking up too much space
I live to be caught
and caught again
and be let loose as rain
I protest only to attract attention
Twenty minutes to make things look good
for the fresh-water sportsman
I know now well how to play the game
My almost fanless tail
A slithering mermaid mass from my puffed-up head
where overcoat-button eyes
sunk on either side
of my gaping gasping mouth
shell-fish fins for hands
Seven beige whiskers under my gawking chin
make me the butt
of dare-devil diving click-clucking coots
Even the slender-necked darting grebe ignores me
I stay low when the wild geese gather
with their young:
duckling swan barnacle
I make no sound to call my own
Only the crunch of carp
between two rows of filed-down molars
It is not my duty to swagger around
even under my metallic raincoat camouflage
I hide where the yarrow stalks grow thick and deep
or where the weeping willows dip their loaded plaits
Every Sunday I await the sporting hameçon
The tear makes the wear more ludique
Only the side of my underlip looks like a harelip
It doesn't much matter
for the fun-loving trotters and rovers
like to marvel with pride at my side
in the fishing-club picture of the week
Meantime I gorge myself with carp
That's why I hardly ever wish to carp
(© T. Wignesan - Paris - 2012)
Note: The Siluroid, one of the largest fresh-water fishes, sometimes two metres and a half in length and weighing anything between a hundred and a hundred and fifty kilos.
poem by T. Wignesan
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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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Night Shower.
It rained yesterday night,
Blocking the full moon,
Cooling the hot winds,
Rain dancing on the ocean,
Making the birds shiver,
Wet with the rain,
They huddled together,
The rain making small streams
Seen through rays of noon,
Which stole through dark clouds,
The trees swaying
In we wind, whistling
Through it's branches,
Night rain making ghouls
Not venture out,
Lest they get wet,
The forest animals happy,
That their lakes will be full again,
For their daily drink,
Let the night rain continue
To coll the souls inside,
And the body outside.
Ravikiran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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The Rinkhals in Muckleneuk Ridge
We were living in the mansion
in Muckleneuk Ridge
when Heinrich wheeled the
rubbish bin out to the street
to leave it for the collectors,
and the red haired neighbour woman
started to shout at him.
I was just getting out of my Volkswagen Polo
and within a minute I was there
like a avenging angel,
telling her to leave the boy alone
and that the pavement
doesn’t belong to her
and that we have got the right
to put out the rubbish bin
for the rubbish collectors.
She got red with anger in her face,
hissed like a snake trying to spit
and cursed me in English
and I told her to get lost.
That woman was aquatically
quite funny and always dressed
in a track suit,
(as if she had no other
type of clothes)
living in a dilapidated house
like a hermit
with rusting sink plate roof
and weeds standing knee high
in her garden
in that rich man’s neighbourhood.
It was when the dogs
tried to catch a half grown coucal
which the wind had blown
out of its nest
and I jumped down the steps
of some terraces
to rescue the poor thing
and I and that wild bird
got to love each other
and it would start to scream
with excitement as soon
as it heard my car
coming near
that Heinrich trapped a venomous
ring-neck spitting cobra
in our garden
and I wanted to kill it
and you said
that even snakes
have a right to live.
I told you that the snake
was apt to kill somebody
as I was leaving for work
and you took the kids
to let it free in the field,
(or so I was told) ,
but a few days later
that utterly rude woman
was really surprised
and screamed for her life
when a snake hissed at her
spitting in her eyes.
[Rinkhals = ring-neck spitting cobra.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Under Ice
Its wonderful.
Everywhere, so white.
The river has frozen over.
Not a soul on the ice.
Only me skating fast.
Im speeding past trees,
Leaving little lines in the ice,
Splitting, splitting sound,
Silver heels spitting, spitting snow.
(sonar says...[inaudible]...deep...[inaudible])
Theres something moving
Under, under the ice,
Moving under ice,
Through water,
Trying to get out of the cold water.
Its me.
Something, someone--help them.
Its me.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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.
River Lilies
Saw a boy three lilies white,
Lilies in the river,
Half heart-open to the light,
Full of golden arrows bright,
Each a silver quiver.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Said the boy, “I’ll pluck you there,
Lilies in the river!”
Said the lilies, “If you dare
You shall drown, or homeward fare
Dripping and a-shiver!”
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Wilful still the boy would clasp
Lilies in the river;
Tumbled in ere he could grasp,
Scrambled out with puff and gasp,
Plucked no lilies ever.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Down On The River
Down on the river it's an easy kind of life
Everybody here's feeling fine
No need to worry or get in a hurry
Nothing to spend but time
Light up a smoke and tell a few jokes
And pass the old jug around
We're gonna get right on a Saturday night
When the sun goes down
(CHORUS)
Down on the river
Down on the river
Just some old boys making a lot of noise
Down on the river
Down on the river
Down on the river
If anyone calls, tell them we're all
Down on the river
We'll go fishing by the light of the moon
And bait them hooks by hand
And early in the morning we'll take them off the line
Fry 'em all up in a pan
We gotta get home while we still got a job
or we'll have to answer to the man
And everybody knows though we gotta go
We'll be back again
(REPEAT CHORUS)
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady Of The Lake
Theres a magical sound slidin over the ground
Makin it shiver and shake
And a permanent cry fallin out of the sky
Slippery and sly like a snake
With a delicate move kind of shifty and smooth
A shadow has covered the light
Then a beam in the shade from a silvery blade
Has shattered the edge of the night
I know she waits below
Only to rise on command
When she comes for me
Shes got my life in her hands
When a movement behind hit the side of my mind
I trembled and shook it away
Then another assault and I started to faulter
Fibres of steel turned to clay
With a bubbly turn now the water should churn
And push it way from the core
And a lady in white will bring sun to the night
Brighter than ever before
I know she waits below
Only to rise on command
When she comes for me
Shes got my life in her hands
Lady of the lake
Theres a magical sound slidin over the ground
Makin it shiver and shake
And a permanent cry fallin out of the sky
Slippery and sly like a snake
With a delicate move kind of shifty and smooth
A shadow has covered the light
Then a beam in the shade from a slivery blade
Has shattered the edge of the night
Straight down Im swirling around
Blinded and bruised by the strain
There must be some way to see
Diamonds out of the rain
I know she waits below
Only to rise on command
When she comes for me
Shes got my life in her hands
Lady of the lake
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You've Been Booted So Scoot
Mismatchd mates fight.
In arguments..
Over who did what wrong.
Inspite of who is right.
And which one makes more sense...
To convince the one incensed!
Both are stubborn infidels,
Yelling to end a relationship...
That has been sitting precariously,
On a dubious fence.
While anyone listening in on this,
Wishes they both shut up.
And seal their lips.
Instead of making loud noises.
And breaking up stuff in fits.
Anyone listening to this nonsense sits down.
Or creeps to the wall without making a sound.
To hear very carefully...
With hopes the floor doesn't creek.
As they tip toe around...
To get their ears close as possible,
To what is near...
And going down!
'I saw you cheating on me,
With that home wrecker living across the street.
If you believe that sleaze is better...
You can get up from here and leave.'
~You aint my momma or my poppa.
Stop trying to control everything I do.
I'm not the one pleasured in midnight specials.
The dogs and cats know that rat is you! ~
*ooo...ssshhh.
This is juicy.*
~You don't have the authority,
To tell me what I can't do.
I will do what I please!
Your booty aint that good to screw! ~
*Lawd!
Now YOU know...
When the booty aint right,
That starts a fight.
ooo...this is juicy*
~If anyone here is going to get up and leave...
You're the one that's going to do it.
And if you don't,
I'll call the police.
And when they arrive...
I'll lie to say you've been hitting on me.~
*Lie-uh! *
~Pack your bags!
I've had it.
Pack your bags!
I've had it.
Pack your bags!
I've had it.
You've been booted,
So scoot.
Pack.
Your.
Bags...
I've had it.
Pack your bags!
I've had it.
Pack your bags!
I've had it.
You've been booted,
So scoot.
There is nothing to revisit.
And there is nothing to renew.
So pack.
Your.
Bags...
I've had it.
Pack your bags!
I've had it.
Pack your bags!
I've had it.
You've been booted,
So scoot.
There is nothing to revisit.
And there is nothing to renew.
You and and I are finished...
And that door you're going through!
So pack.
Your.
Bags...
I've had it.
Pack your bags!
I've had it.
Pack your bags!
I've had it.
You've been booted,
So scoot!
You don't have to bother,
To put on your shoes.
Just pack your bags.
I've had it.
Get up and get out.
You've been booted,
So scoot! ~
*Don't you dare!
I wont get this excitement anywhere.*
**Horace...
Will you come from over there,
And sit down!
You are worse than you say,
My nosy friends are! **
*Sssshhh...*
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On the Bluff
O grandly flowing River!
O silver-gliding River!
Thy springing willows shiver
In the sunset as of old;
They shiver in the silence
Of the willow-whitened islands,
While the sun-bars and the sand-bars
Fill air and wave with gold.
O gay, oblivious River!
O sunset-kindled River!
Do you remember ever
The eyes and skies so blue
On a summer day that shone here,
When we were all alone here,
And the blue eyes were too wise
To speak the love they knew?
O stern impassive River!
O still unanswering River!
The shivering willows quiver
As the night-winds moan and rave.
From the past a voice is calling,
From heaven a star is falling,
And dew swells in the bluebells
Above her hillside grave.
How to paint a striking Rinkhals
Green knee high grass
paves, covers the veldt
making the snake's hideout
its place from where it sails.
First observe the snake
sneaking from the grass
while it passes camouflaged
to the next shade
or lies turned over
as if dead, showing its stomach
enticing you to pass, or to come near
to investigate,
maybe you'll see the stripes
ringing its neck
in colours of cream
or something near to white
or maybe you may not
when in terror astounded
to whoever looks
it flashes alive
like a lightning rod
with death sizzling out of its mouth
and if you can paint this
you have the essence of it,
making terror alive,
in a snake which looks placid
but which can spit and strike
carrying death as far as it goes.
[Rinkhals: Spitting African Cobra.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Fishing on a small lake
You had just left me
and I had relocated from Bellville
near Cape Town
to Centurion at Pretoria
and had travelled by airplane
and there was storm damage
to the roads
and I was still waiting
on my removal to arrive
and apart from going to work
I had a lot of time on my hands
and thoughts in my mind,
since I have lost
the only fish that really mattered
and I didn’t really know how.
My rods and reels and fishing tackle
from when I was a boy
was at my mother’s
where I now lived,
and the lake on the other side
of Centurion mall
caught my eye,
while I drove
over the bridge.
On the weekend
loneliness really caught up with me
and my mother
helped me prepare the bait
like she did
when I was a child.
It was nothing fancy,
just custard powder, baking meal
and honey
or baking meal and curry
or a fresh white bread and honey
that I used that summer.
At the lake some black kids
were selling tins with earthworms
to anglers,
but I wasn’t interested
as catfish goes for earthworms as well
and I wanted to catch blue kurper
or carp or maybe yellow-fish.
It was at about eleven o’clock
and some of the other anglers
had already being fishing
since six
and didn’t have luck,
but assured me
that the lake had
big kurper, carp and catfish.
They were very well equipped
with radio controlled bait boats
to take their lines in
and all kinds of modern gizmos.
I settled under a tree
next to the small red hanging bridge
with which visitors crossed the lake
and used two rods
and equipped two hooks on each line.
alternating between the custard
and the curry baits
and thought that I would have
some time to reflect on live,
but I didn’t even get time to wait.
Almost as soon as the sinker
struck the water
I had a bite,
and were catching two fish
at a time.
The biggest kurpers
that I have ever caught
were filling the keep net,
along with some rather large carp.
I came for solitude
and got everything but it
and was too busy
enjoying the experience
to notice
the three or four families
with children
who gathered on the bridge
to watch me.
Some of the other anglers
came over for a chat,
all of them believing
that I was using
some special secret
kind of bait.
I had brought more than enough bait
and gave them some
and that day all of them caught fish
and a little while later
to my astonishment
one even caught a huge catfish.
It wasn’t long before
I had friends right round that lake,
anglers brought me cider,
beer and whiskey,
and an angler
and his beautiful daughter
moved their lines
to right next to mine
and they roasted
chops and sausage
on a Cadac gas frying pan
and I got chops, sausage
and putu porridge
and many more bites
than I had bargained for.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A silent river
In the silent river my sweetheart tell me everything
See how calm the waters
In the silent river my sweetheart tell me what you feel
see how beautiful the river
With the sound of birds whistling
Joyful whistling in this river
How happy they gave beauty on this silent river
In the silent river my love dont forget with our promises
Sound of water running thrilling us
Note the butterfly flew with graceful
Add warm atmospher here
in the silent river
how much i have anxious waiting for you here
in the silent river
The anxiety i always remember our promises
here in the silent river
When there is only me that shaded the sun's heat
To time gives the distance between us
In the silent river..
my sweetheart dont forget with our love