Broremann The Fisherman
Broremann the Angler
On the pier where fishing vessels were tied up my brother
sat fishing all the while seagulls kept swooping and shrieking,
he blissfully ignored them. He had no hook at the end of his
line and when asked why he said, I don´t like to hurt the fish.
But crafty little Broremann was not as innocent as you may
think, he didn´t like fish, all those horrible tiny bones,
his mother had sent him down to the pier to try catch some
fish for lunch. He liked sausages with mashed potatoes and
stewed peas, now he could go home tell his mother fish didn´t
bite today, but made sure to put the hook on the line so his
mother could see he was really trying. An old fisherman gave
him two sardines wrapped in a newspaper, but wouldn´t you
know it the pair of sardines somehow slipped out of the paper
and made their way back to the sea.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
My First Fishing Trip
Went with dad to Port Isabel to learn to fish,
‘Cause to catch a fish I told him that I did wish.
So to Purdy’s Court fishing pier,
We went with all our fishing-gear.
Yes, that fishing trip with dad I’ll always cherish!
There we were, him giving me casting instruction,
Then he baited my hook with a live crustacean,
I cast out high in the sky.
To catch a big fish to fry,
But instead, caught a sea gull - as consolation!
poem by Bobby Beddoe
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Is it really like fishing?
They say there is many fish in the sea to choose from.
But have you ever gone fishing?
They say do not worry they are like fish you lose one then get a fresh one.
But have you actually gone fishing?
They say you can be picky when fishing your fish.
But have you been in the sea and fished?
They even say some actually smell like fish.
But have you really smelled a fish?
They say there is plenty of fish in the sea.
But have you actually gone and counted the fish in the sea?
They say once you catch that perfect fish, you are bound for a good life.
But have you caught that perfect fish they all speak of?
They say some fish can be beautiful.
But have you seen any beautiful fish?
How can one compare a fish?
They are not alike.
How can one say it is as easy as finding a fish?
It is not a simple task.
How can they say there are so many fish in the sea?
When there are so many fishers who have yet to catch.
Can you really compare life and love to a fish?
The answer is of course not.
You can’t.
Impossible.
Unreal.
Not imaginable.
Unbelievable.
Unrealistic.
A fairy tale.
poem by ReubenJames Rodriguez
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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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In Constant Struggle
there is this hook, line and
sinker
someone is a fish and he
is caught
the urchins and clams
and octopuses watch helplessly
the fish is this philosophy of
being caught and wanting to be free
you are inside this ocean and
you are this fish
and then you wish to become a man
all your life you feel the fish in there
hook, line and sinker
the fish in you and the man within
in constant struggle
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mad: 1
He was angling fish sitting on the high way,
frequently making the hook dance
and all on a sudden, pulling the fishing rod so forcefully that
it seemed a big catfish had certainly swallowed the hook.
He was then repenting loudly showing others
really a big fish had been successful to flee making him a fool.
Pedestrians were watching him shaking their necks
and bursting into laughter.
An unhappy man stopped his purple colored car beside the road
and opening the window asked him aloud, 'Brother,
have you got any fish? '
He raised his eyes at forehead with surprise and said, 'Alas!
Who has ever got any fish on a dry street? '
poem by Sayeed Abubakar
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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.
Fish the Fish
fish makes every fish catch, the tail that
smell like fish as the angler bait its fishing
rod bit each heart beat, the triumphant
heart break its brake the nylon cord that
hold the hook that synchronize the timing
swings of each hand lifting as it goes
catching the net as it swing in the thread
that fishes the fish
strength hold on, tie so quick on, leave no
loose every cost is to repulse, time is
sweeten in the fish in the table all are
refresh, every fisherman switch the light in
the kitchen the kittle, the cool plate and the
fire is burning on
sweet smells like a baby, in every nose so
shiny, in every dinning table everybody is
happy ready to take like party, now all
hands should hold, and bring every magical
strength enfold, the fish is in the running
water waiting for us to carry in every heart,
please prepare the place, the net is
empty …… come and fish the fish
poem by Antonio Liao
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Lucky Catch
Once saw a small boy
Hand line a very large fish
Very lucky boy!
With expensive gear
Fisherman cast very far
Not a single fish
'Boy could barely cast'
Remarked the old fisherman
'Just beginners luck'
True about boy's skills.
Could only cast to the fish
Feeding at his feet
Not just gear or skill
To be lucky in fishing:
Fish where the fish are!
poem by Zen Bojczuk
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Persistently Pursuing Piscine Protein
Once again whilst fishing at the beach,
The fish they all stayed out of reach,
I think they knew that I was there,
And so my fish bag it stayed bare.
Nothing in there for me to eat,
The scaly ones had me beat,
But such is the nature of this fisherman,
I'll be trying again as soon as I can,
And next time I'll catch fish a' plenty,
Not going home with my fish bag empty.
This optimism keeps shining bright,
No matter how often on a cold wet night,
I venture out and fail to catch,
I know next time will be game, set, and match.
To me the stupidly determined one,
Who keeps on fishing when all hope is gone!
Tom Higgins 19/11/2012
poem by Tom Higgins
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Renda Writer - The Other Line
I saw a man
Fishing
Off the side of the pier
Fishing for a fish
And then...
His cell phone rang
He picked it up
And began talking
Cell phone in one hand
Fishing pole in the other
And then...
The tip of his pole
Started bending
He got a bite
And then...
He said
To the person on the phone
'Let me call you back,
I've got someone on the other line'
poem by Renda Writer
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Number Eight Hook
This little fish hook, is a number eight,
Tiny as it is I will attest.
It's put many fish on my dinner plate,
For catching perch it is the best.
I wouldn't exchange it for all the rest.
With a piece of night crawler, wiggling around,
This tiny hook is my weapon of choice.
The fish are ecstatic, at what they have found,
And all of a sudden, they just loose their poise.
The silent assassin strikes without noise.
Little red number eight, I depend upon,
To get me fish, with constant ease.
My secret weapon when all else goes wrong,
For a wonderful supper, or catch and release.
Little red number eight, knows just how to please.
9/5/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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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
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Jigger
Jigger was a fisherman
and only had one wish
he really really wanted
to catch a friggin Fish
he fished for 39 years
didn't even get a nibble
after all his tears
he mouth began to dribble
On one warm sunny afternoon
he drew out his rod, was late June
low and behold on his line was a fish
after, he saw it was dead,
he had only one more wish
that he would never catch another fish
poem by David Darbyshire
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On An April Evening In The Fall
With folded wings the fishing gannets plunge into the sea
And the nuggety old man with fishing rod was waiting patiently
For a fish to bite as the incoming waves splashed quite close to his feet
And each new wave it came surging in as each old wave did retreat.
Have you been catching many fish today? of the fisherman I inquired
Not been doing too well today mate the old fellow replied
I've yet to catch a fish today, sometimes in the rising tide
From cover they don't venture out between the rocks they hide.
I'll stay another hour he said at least until twilight
The wife would like a good sized fish to cook for tea tonight
Still I don't like my chances much it's a quarter after four
I'll stay till a quarter after five and not one second more
The silver gulls cry on the beach the angry ocean roar
The gannets fishing on the bay, the old man from the shore
And people walking on the beach before their evening tea
On a sunny evening in April in the Fall by the Pacific sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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5. Gone Fishing
Fishermen cast out their nets
We all in turn go fishing
Some will use a rod and line
While others fish by wishing
Some wish for so many things
Like numbers in a line
If the line is lacking some
Next time they say that’s fine
Others fish for gossip
So they can tell to others
No escape for anyone
Not even someone’s brothers
Fishing for a missing sock
The washer won’t release
Hiding out behind the drum
With fluff and bits of fleece
You see we all go fishing
Not always using bait
Just cast a line for what you want
Then settle down and wait
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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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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A Tin Of Sardines
A tin of Sardines.
Mother by an assembly line putting tiny sardines into tins,
a machine did the rest, a squirt of oil and a lid stamped on.
Sardines side by side, in total darkness, wait to be eaten.
But first of all the sardines had to be smoked, the smoker
my mother’s lover, he visited her every Sunday afternoon,
and I was sent out to find a place that sold ice cream, even
when it rained. Rusting sardine cans, littering the wayside,
don’t walk barefoot in the grass at summer time. Mother
by an assembly line, putting sardines into tins, the smoker
had another girlfriend now and I got no Sunday ice cream.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fishing For A Friend
when you go to fish
go fishing for the finest kind
which good anglers always do.
if you're looking for a fine fish
you must choose the purest lake
in which good anglers fish.
if you catch a fine fish
try not to let it get away
good anglers real them in.
you must bring your fish home
a fine fish will quench your hunger
after a long day fishing.
(January,2010, Omar Ibrahim)
(revised by MR.Ronald Peat)
poem by Omar Ibrahim
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 24
A weak fisherman caught a strong fish in his net and not being able to retain it the fish overcame him and pulled the net from his hand.
A boy went to bring water from the torrent.
The torrent came and took the boy away.
The net brought every time a fish.
This time the fish went and carried off the net.
The other fishermen were sorry and blamed him for not being able to retain such a fish which had fallen into his net. He replied: ‘O brothers, what can be done? My day was not lucky but the fish had yet one remaining. ‘Moral: A fisherman cannot catch a fish in the Tigris without a day of luck and a fish cannot die on dry ground without the decree of fate.
A Fishing Poem
A Fishing Poem
He was a gentle old man
Who reluctantly spoke
And he’d sit on the pier
And he’d fish and he’d smoke
His eyes and the lines on his face told a tale
While his leathery hands drew the bait from a pale
This man once a lad on this very wharf stood
And he leapt and he shouted as loud as he could
For each tiddler that wriggled on the end of his hook
With excitement and pride he would offer a look
To everyone passing “hey see what I caught”
And he’d show them his fish and he’d ask what they thought
But a lifetime had passed for that excited, fair boy
Many years filled with heartache, discovery and joy
Countless friends that have gone, fortunes both made and lost
And yes lessons were learned but each came at a cost
Now he sits and he lands every fish with such ease
And in silence he packs up each days end and leaves
Many times I’ve fished by him not so close to offend
And I’ve learned from his actions and regard him a friend
Though we speak very little and trade only a nod
And we focus our stare at the end of a rod
One day I’ll replace him in his spot on this pier
At my side another young face will appear
To ask all of the questions, then it will, be my turn
To quietly say “son, just watch and you’ll learn”
poem by Michael Farmer
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