Boardinghouse by the riverside
He has lost his youthful idealism.
The old bachelor sips his mug of coffee,
She stirred well the spinster Landlady.
I have no idea any further,
But he's a boarder with the rest two,
A barber and a bankrupt fisherman.
Bachelor depends on his pension
And he dreams all the time,
If he marries this stingy lady
by an accident he could buy
The fisherman's selling boat
and live happily by fishing?
[We are always the same age inside.-Stein]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Bachelor Boy
When I was young my father said
Son I have something to say
And what he told me Ill never forget
Until my dyin day.
He said son you are a bachelor boy
And thats the way to stay.
Son, you be a bachelor boy until your dyin day
When I was sixteen I fell in love
With a girl as sweet as could be.
But I rememberd just in time,
What my daddy said to me.
He said son you are a bachelor boy
And thats the way to stay.
Son, you be a bachelor boy until your dyin day
As time goes by I propably will
Meet a girl and fall in love
Then Ill get married have a wife and a child
And theyll be my turtle doves.
But until then Ill be a bachelor boy and thats the way Ill stay,
Happy to be a bachelor boy,
Until my dyin day.
But until then Ill be a bachelor boy and thats the way Ill stay,
Happy to be a bachelor boy,
Until my dyin day.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prince Edward Island
In Prince Edward Island
I am in a fishing boat
Working
With the rest of the
Other fisherman
On board
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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John The Fisherman
When he was young youd not find him doing well in school,
His mind would turn unto the waters.
Always the focus of adolescent ridicule,
He has no time for farmers daughters.
Alienated from the clique society,
A lonely boy finds peace in fishing.
His mother says john this is not the way lifes supposed to be.
Dont you see the life that you are missing?
And he says...
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Now years gone by we find man that rules the sea.
He sets out on a dark may morning .
To bring his catch back to this small community.
He doesnt see the danger dawning.
Four hours up, oh the ocean swelled and swelled,
The fog rolled in it started raining.
The starboard bow. oh my God were going down!
The do not hear his frantic mayday.
And he says
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Ill live and die a fisherman.
Calling john the fisherman.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dating/ Mating Game
Mary Delgado, what a bee-atch,
She’d thought that the proposed bachelor was rich,
The Bachelor is a reality television series based Hollywood fantasy,
In fact it is a total fallacy,
Based on false assumptions, and expectations,
The former Tampa Bay Buccaneer cheerleader won a battle with the Bass fisherman,
But eventually lost the war to the Seminole Police,
She was intoxicated and full of frustrations.
A Final Rose was given to her by Byron Velvick in 2004,
They were living together as husband and wife,
But a phone could not found under either name,
According to authorities, there was more
-for both were confused with their life,
They were planning to wed in 2007,
But they are running out of time,
But there is always next season,
For all those Harlequin romancers to watch,
A love story that is made in heaven,
gag me, if you please,
I hope that series will not run,
-it doesn’t have a reason.
(11-25-2007)
poem by Joe Rosochacki
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A Girl in the Rain
She came in wearing a mackintosh
And her mercurial and soften by soaking manner.
She was late and the snack is over in his tea shop
And he realized that she needs something to eat.
He said 'I am sorry' and gave her a cup of hot coffee.
He was shocked by her gesticulation.
She kept few coins on the table and ran away.
He wants to run behind and have a word with her.
But it's heavy raining.
He found her wet handkerchief on the floor
Which has monogrammed in blue 'Love'?
He never sees her again in his lifetime.
Though he is a bachelor still he counts that's his first love
And he dreams forever her appearance.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Fisherman
The sunset hues
colour the sky red
at evening tide
predicting fair weather
for the day ahead.
No storm clouds
to follow me
as I set my sails
on my great fishing boat
for my journey out to sea
with sun and fair winds
to follow me.
A fisherman is my life
with the sail and sea my home.
Free to do what I do best
fish the bounty of the sea.
At dusk, I rest
and wait for the morning fair.
A fisherman is my life,
something I’ll always be
until the day comes along
to visit Davy Jones locker,
but until then I’ll roam free
wherever the fair wind takes me.
No landlover me
as the sea is my home
and where I always want to be,
watching whales and dolphins play
and the gulls for company.
17 February 2011
poem by David Harris
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A grin of a grizzled-man
He's a groundsman
But never engaged in sports
Still a bachelor in his sixties
Fights with the Lawnmover
And he smells cut grass.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Fisherman jim's kids
Fisherman Jim lived on the hill
With his bonnie wife an' his little boys;
'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will -
Naught we reck of your cold and noise!"
For happy and warm were he an' his,
And he dandled his kids upon his knee
To the song of the sea.
Fisherman Jim would sail all day,
But, when come night, upon the sands
His little kids ran from their play,
Callin' to him an' wavin' their hands;
Though the wind was fresh and the sea was high,
He'd hear'em - you bet - above the roar
Of the waves on the shore!
Once Fisherman Jim sailed into the bay
As the sun went down in a cloudy sky,
And never a kid saw he at play,
And he listened in vain for the welcoming cry.
In his little house he learned it all,
And he clinched his hands and he bowed his head -
"The fever!" they said.
'T wuz a pitiful time for Fisherman Jim,
With them darlin's a-dyin' afore his eyes,
A-stretchin' their wee hands out to him
An' a-breakin' his heart with the old-time cries
He had heerd so often upon the sands;
For they thought they wuz helpin' his boat ashore -
Till they spoke no more.
But Fisherman Jim lived on and on,
Castin' his nets an' sailin' the sea;
As a man will live when his heart is gone,
Fisherman Jim lived hopelessly,
Till once in those years they come an' said:
"Old Fisherman Jim is powerful sick -
Go to him, quick!"
Then Fisherman Jim says he to me:
"It's a long, long cruise-you understand -
But over beyont the ragin' sea
I kin see my boys on the shinin' sand
Waitin' to help this ol' hulk ashore,
Just as they used to - ah, mate, you know! -
In the long ago."
No, sir! he wuzn't afeard to die;
For all night long he seemed to see
His little boys of the days gone by,
An' to hear sweet voices forgot by me!
An' just as the mornin' sun come up -
"They're holdin' me by the hands!" he cried,
An' so he died.
poem by Eugene Field
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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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Lana Jane
Every boy loved her- Lana Jane,
And who could blame them? She was fair,
Of perfect form and beauty rare,
But none could have her, Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
And he no man to barter.
For he would take poor Lana Jane
To sea, and she would stay the boat
When harbored; thus, a dreadful moat
Would bar the way to Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
But he refused to barter.
In fourteen years, sweet Lana Jane,
Was never seen upon the shore
Among the boys who wanted more
Than life to see their Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
Whose father ne'er would barter.
The legend grew of Lana Jane,
While scores of ports, legions of ships
Claimed: “She’s aboard! ” through whispered lips,
“The rarest beauty, Lana Jane,
“The fisherman’s only daughter.
“She's yours to see. Let's barter! ”
Rapprochement to her readable eyes
Though she old
He reads the past sad story of her readable eyes.
Once they were very closed
But the destiny has seperated them forever
And she lives with her off spring.
He walks alone as a bachelor towards a quagmire.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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the Fisherman
THE FISHERMAN
All his life in his sun-burnt boat he is out there
on the sea,
To eke out an honest living with his catches at
sea!
The sea is his second home, where his soul
breathes free!
The sea remain placid, the sea remain calm,
Rocking his boat gently like a mother patting
her son!
But when the sea raves and foams in the mouth,
The fisherman calmly surveys the distant storm
clouds!
He silently sets sail towards the safe shore;
Though at times he boldly tries to ignore!
And should his boat overturn and capsize below,
His mother will keep him afloat - as he swims
to the shore!
-Raj Nandy
27 Mar 09
Dark Horse
The amorous handsome devil seems that's in spying at dusk.
Spring tide in the lake and he is very anxious to catch fish
But he isn't a regular fisherman.
A mistrust mistress too prefers the dusk and carousers don't like moonlight.
A prank but nobody cannot blame.
It's not a prearrangement but an accident.
When opportunity strikes who oppose the option?
In the darkness you cannot see the heart and tattle is not so important.
A taster needs a small sample?
To my poet friend Denis.Joe
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Fisherman's Boat
I am tied to a pole
In me came and sat a fisherman with a big mole
He had a fishing rod and a net
With a bucket and bait so wet
He untied me and rowed me
Into the deep sea
And with rod, net and bait
He caught fish till late
He went home with a big fish
To prepare and eat a tasty dish
Tomorrow again he’ll come wearing his overcoat
To untie me, his little fishing boat.
poem by Niharika Singh
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Ill Be A Bachelor till I Die
Written and sung by hank williams
(d) Ill take you to the picture show and babe Ill hold your hand,
Ill sit up in your parlor, let you cool me with your (d7) fan,
Ill (g) listen to your troubles and (d) pet you when you cry, but get
That marryin out of your head, Ill be a (a7) bachelor til I (d) die.
I dont mind honky tonkin round if that will bring you fun,
But somehow I cant undersdtand how one and one make one,
I like to cuddle near you and listen to you lie,
But get that marryin out of your head, Ill be a bachelor til I die.
Now if you want a helpmate youre wastin lots of time,
cause Im afraid of church bells, how they scare me when they chime,
Ive seen those married people just up and say goodbye,
So get that marryin out of your head, Ill be a bachelor til I die.
This freedoms mighty precious in this land of liberty,
Ive seen what matrimony done to better men than me,
I dont mind keepin company with the apple of my eye,
But keep that marryin out of your head, Ill be a bachelor til I die.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bluestocking and a Lilliput
We are not seeing each other
but we exchange what they call poetry.
Madam you are far beyond the vicinity.
I am an old bachelor stick around
longing for something which I cannot express.
Do you find in my poems?
We are only two parallel lines
in the song of love.
to Amanda Lukas.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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
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A Bachelor of Arts is one who makes love to a lot of women, and yet has the art to remain a bachelor.
quote by Helen Rowland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wooing o' t
He was a bachelor, gallant and gay
She was a spinster prim -
Pretty and prim, with a wonderful way
Which had captivated him.
Oh! well knew she what he wished to say,
So - never frigid nor freezy -
Molly Maginnis managed that day
To make his saying o' 't easy.
'Bob, I shall get you a wife,' said she,
'Find some nice, dear girl for you;
Bob! please tell me the sort she must be,
Shall her eyes be brown or blue?
'Must she be of the 'plump and the pleasing' sort?
Will the 'slender and willowy' do?'
Here Robert the Bachelor, cutting her short,
Said: 'She must be just like you!
'And to me, sweetheart, 'tis distinctly clear,
There is none in the world like you.'
This fell in the fall of the finished year,
They are married now in the New.
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
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A Wedding and a Funeral
She smiled for the first time in her life
at the age of fiftyfive.
Married to a retired postmaster
still he was a bachelor.
On their wedding day not a single relative from both sides
The honeymoon was in a train
they were going to a distant town
on the way he got a heart attack.
Still she is a virgin
and a widow too.
counting her gray hair
and the destiny she leads is not fair.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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