Don't You See?
The day was hotter than words can tell,
So hot the jelly-fish wouldn't jell.
The halibut went all to butter,
And the catfish had only force to utter
A faint sea-mew - aye, though some have doubted,
The carp he capered and the horn-pout pouted.
The sardonic sardine had his sly heart's wish
When the angelfish fought with the paradise fish.
'T was a sight gave the bluefish the blues to see,
But the seal concealed a wicked glee-
The day it went from bad to worse,
Till the pickerel picked the purse-crab's purse.
And the crab felt crabedder yet no doubt,
Because the oyster would n't shell out.
The sculpin would sculp, but had n't a model,
And the coddlefish begged for something to coddle.
But to both the dolphin refused its doll,
Till the whale was oblidged to whale them all.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Grinning Crab
Come with me, said the fish to the crab
and I will show you a cave where beautiful coral live.
When do we leave, said the crab to the fish
and tell me what I should bring.
Just bring a sense of adventure, said the fish to the crab, and some sun tan oil
You forget, said the crab to the fish, my shell is thick and impenetrable by rays of any kind.
What about the metal-tipped arrows, asked the fish of the crab, from a cheeky cherub?
Oh they don’t stand a chance, said the crab with a grin.
The fish, having eyes that could not blink, felt the molten tears sting his star-crossed eyes.
poem by Vernon Adrian Emuang
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No Crab
Whether it's Crab soup,
or whether it's crab cakes,
whether it's crab puffs
or whether it's crab flakes
crab gumbo or crab dressing,
it's all the same to me,
for crab is crab is crab
and I detest the taste.
poem by Ruth Walters
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There is nothing fantastic or ultradimansional about crab grass... unless you are an sf writer, in which case pretty soon you are viewing crab grass with suspicion. What are it's real motives And who sent it here in the first place It only looks like crab grass. That's what they want us to think it is. One day the crab grass suit will fall off and their true identity will be revealed. By then the Pentagon will be full of crab grass and it'll be too late. The crab grass, or what we took to be crab grass, will dictate terms.
quote by Philip K. Dick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hermit Crab
The hermit crabs life is all but exciting live all alone
and in the sahdows in the bottom of the teary sea
feelings no comfort and no love this crab is all alone
no friends and allways hurting everyone
he use to have friends till the day he found him self this shell of dark sleeping alone
and being alone this crab used that bad to fell worse
we the other crabs of life the ones that live a full happy life
need to find him/her and bring this hermit out of it's shell
show to the hermit that talking isn't all bad
but being alone is talk about your problems dont hide in a shell
Manteca
Written by dizzy gillespie and gil fuller
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fish Tale
Everytime he told the tale,
The fish would grow some more.
He would repeat it without fail,
Till he got to be a boor.
It started as a Blue gill,
At the end it was a whale.
No he could never get his fill,
Of telling his fish tale.
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poem by Juan Olivarez
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A Fishermans Will
A Fisherman's Will
I have eaten catfish in more ways than one
Fish that is blackened is not over done
Bass done over a grill with butter basting
Fish balls fried are really tasty
I have had days I caught more fish than I could contain
Then there were days I didn't get a bite and it rained
Memories of Dads and trips where we bonded
Caught some that could have been mounted
Romance and fishing don't go together well
Poles and pools on days hotter than hell
I've never make a good fisher of men
But I have found fishing gives me a grin
So when I die I ask you please
Put my body in a river or sea
Let the fish then eat off me,
So I may return the favor, please!
This is my request in my:
Fisherman's Will
Jim 1989
poem by James Casey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Crab
As the little crab climbed
To the top of the basket
Hoping to make an escape
The bigger crabs pulled him down
And when the consignment
Did reach the market place
The Fisherman’s son was delighted
To find a small crab in the bag
He picked it up carefully
Drooling at the thought of soup
But this time the little crab
Reacted fast, he bit the boy’s hand
Falling quickly to the ground
As the child reduced his grip
Undaunted by the crack in his shell
He scuttled away in search of
A safer place, far away from
Fishing baskets, boys and big crabs.
poem by Sandra Martyres
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ogdenashical to amuse
I am a duck billed platypus
I very seldom make a fuss.
Though you will find if you tread on me
I can react most peevishly
Because you’ve made me furious.
Wallace Wart hog was not willing
unless he got the top billing.
Although he thought he was the best
he was much worse than all the rest
and never earned a single shilling.
Adalbert the alligator
had a sister but he ate her
Which was not the thing to do
but Adalbert had downed a few
He was chastised by his pater.
Anthony the armadillo
was a very funny fellow.
his only hobby telling jokes
which were not funny to most folks
and they rudely told him so
A donkey mated with a horse
accidentally of course.
The stallion was a love lorn fool
Mixing breeds made me a mule
To be an ass would be much worse.
Fish can swim and birds can fly.
Although I sometimes wonder.
Flying fish can leave the sea
take to the air quite easily.
Fish are not supposed to fly
Chimpanzees live in the trees
which they navigate with ease.
Searching for their favourite food
In a way no human could.
Sadly they can be very crude.
The killer whale is bound to fail
although he tries to no avail
but he continues stubbornly
he is convinced that one day he
will be a banjo playing whale.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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Oceanic Humour
Oceanic Humour?
Does a sardine play
Hide and seek with another fish
And laugh about it?
Does a lobster joust
With a big Alaska crab
Just for amusement?
Wit on the sea’s floor
Giggling eels on Dogger bank
Slippery gayety?
Can a tiger shark
Tell another shark a story
That has a fun bite?
Are ocean’s beings
As stern as the old Talibans
Who say fun is sin?
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fish Hook
My father
holding fish-hook
hooking bait
throwing of it to sea
in that bridge
its angle line is moving quickly
big fish eating bait
in its fish-hook
or only crab
making a fool of bait
in its fish-hook
or chance
which is making a fool
of him'self
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Are Jonah
And the round old fox, stepped up to make his speech
His ship was on the rocks, and rescue out of reach
Spotlit he stood, said what he thought he should
Half the crowd did laugh, though there was no joke
And soon the other half were swallowed up in smoke
A robin on the wing, could be heard to sing, the strangest thing
Grandma, we are jonah
Rolling along in the teeth of a whale
Then the plane did land, for some it did not crash
From it emerged a man, in trainers and moustache
Down he laid his load, upon the heated road
Then the road did part, and the tar did melt
He loosened up his heart, he tightened up his belt
Like a piece of string, then he began to sing, like a pearly king
Grandma, we are jonah
Rolling along in the teeth of a whale
Then the scene did shift, to a sun kissed sea
There was montgomery clift, jonah, the whale and me
As the sun it set, montgomery placed his bet
Then the whale did yawn, and fell asleep in four
From dusk till dawn, you shoul have heard him snore
From tierra-del-fuego, to the alaskan snows... there she blows!
Grandma, we are jonah
Rolling along in the teeth of a whale
My dear old grandma, we are jonah
Rolling along in the teeth of a whale
Grandma
We are jonah, rolling along in the teeth of a whale
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are Jonah
And the round old fox, stepped up to make his speech
His ship was on the rocks, and rescue out of reach
Spotlit he stood, said what he thought he should
Half the crowd did laugh, though there was no joke
And soon the other half were swallowed up in smoke
A robin on the wing, could be heard to sing, the strangest thing
Grandma, we are jonah
Rolling along in the teeth of a whale
Then the plane did land, for some it did not crash
From it emerged a man, in trainers and moustache
Down he laid his load, upon the heated road
Then the road did part, and the tar did melt
He loosened up his heart, he tightened up his belt
Like a piece of string, then he began to sing, like a pearly king
Grandma, we are jonah
Rolling along in the teeth of a whale
Then the scene did shift, to a sun kissed sea
There was montgomery clift, jonah, the whale and me
As the sun it set, montgomery placed his bet
Then the whale did yawn, and fell asleep in four
From dusk till dawn, you shoul have heard him snore
From tierra-del-fuego, to the alaskan snows... there she blows!
Grandma, we are jonah
Rolling along in the teeth of a whale
My dear old grandma, we are jonah
Rolling along in the teeth of a whale
Grandma
We are jonah, rolling along in the teeth of a whale
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Etymology
Human being
ape
crab
fish
ocean
from God?
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Security
There once was a limpet puffed with pride
Who said to the ribald sea:
"It isn't I who cling to the rock,
It's the rock that clings to me;
It's the silly old rock who hugs me tight,
Because he loves me so;
And though I struggle with all my might,
He will not let me go."
Then said the sea, who hates the rock
That defies him night and day:
"You want to be free - well, leave it to me,
I'll help you get away.
I know such a beautiful silver beach,
Where blissfully you may bide;
Shove off to-night when the moon is bright,
And I'll swig you thee on my tide."
"I'd like to go," said the limpet low,
"But what's a silver beach?"
"It's sand," said the sea, "bright baby rock,
And you shall be lord of each."
"Righto!" said the limpet; "Life allures,
And a rover I would be."
So greatly bold she slacked her hold
And launched on the laughing sea.
But when she got to the gelid deep
Where the waters swish and swing,
She began to know with a sense of woe
That a limpet's lot is to cling.
but she couldn't cling to a jelly fish,
Or clutch at a wastrel weed,
So she raised a cry as the waves went by,
but the waves refused to heed.
Then when she came to the glaucous deep
Where the congers coil and leer,
The flesh in her shell began to creep,
And she shrank in utter fear.
It was good to reach that silver beach,
That gleamed in the morning light,
Where a shining band of the silver sand
Looked up with with a welcome bright.
Looked up with a smile that was full of guile,
Called up through the crystal blue:
"Each one of us is a baby rock,
And we want to cling to you."
Then the heart of the limpet leaped with joy,
For she hated the waters wide;
So down she sank to the sandy bank
That clung to her under-side.
That clung so close she couldn't breath,
So fierce she fought to be free;
But the silver sand couldn't understand,
While above her laughed the sea.
Then to each wave that wimpled past
She cried in her woe and pain:
"Oh take me back, let me rivet fast
To my steadfast rock again."
She cried till she roused a taxi-crab
Who gladly gave her a ride;
But I grieve to say in his crabby way
He insisted she sit inside. . . .
So if of the limpet breed ye be,
Beware life's brutal shock;
Don't take the chance of the changing sea,
But - cling like hell to your rock.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crab
When I eat crab, slide the rosy
rubbery claw across my tongue
I think of my mother. She'd drive down
to the edge of the Bay, tiny woman in a
huge car, she'd ask the crab-man to
crack it for her. She'd stand and wait as the
pliers broke those chalky homes, wild-
red and knobby, those cartilage wrists, the
thin orange roof of the back.
I'd come home, and find her at the table
crisply unhousing the parts, laying the
fierce shell on one side, the
soft body on the other. She gave us
lots, because we loved it so much,
so there was always enough, a mound of crab like a
cross between breast-milk and meat. The back
even had the shape of a perfect
ruined breast, upright flakes
white as the flesh of a chrysanthemum, but the
best part was the claw, she'd slide it
out so slowly the tip was unbroken,
scarlet bulb of the feeler—it was such a
kick to easily eat that weapon,
wreck its delicate hooked pulp between
palate and tongue. She loved to feed us
and all she gave us was fresh, she was willing to
grasp shell, membrane, stem, to go
close to dirt and salt to feed us,
the way she had gone near our father himself
to give us life. I look back and
see us dripping at the table, feeding, her
row of pink eaters, the platter of flawless
limp claws, I look back further and
see her in the kitchen, shelling flesh, her
small hands curled—she is like a
fish-hawk, wild, tearing the meat
deftly, living out her life of fear and desire.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
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If you didn't catch anything when fishing, then a crab is a fish.