Ketapang Leafs
Ketapang leafs
dropp float in the air
Brought by West Winds
To pounce on the dying fish
flondered
Crushed by rolling waves of Bali Straits
While camar birds
Shivered with cold in they nest
Took shelter from the cold sea wind, dry and
Flying the dust
While fisherman
Choose living in their brittle shelter
Waiting for the wind calm down
Where roling waves not to rage
Hurricane, dying fishes
Washed ashore in the beach
Only own of carcass eaters bird
Fisherman could waiting only
Til the good season back again
While they only could do wishes
And life from kindness of usuer
Defend from the west wind
Dry, the rage of waves
When the Hurricane was subsided
fullmoon illuminates the earth and sea
the fish have a partywe should go to sea
to fish with a net
for paying our debt to usuer
but oil price flying up and much higher
we could not anything to do
bogor,17/09/05
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Related quotes
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.
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
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A Fish In Your Hand
Many, many fish are washed ashore on the beach.
So vast as the eye can reach.
An old man is picking up the fish and throwing back to sea.
His grandson asks, 'Grandpa, how can you put all the fish to the sea.? '
He answers, ' Of course not, but the one in my hand is lucky.
It will survive and live happily.'
Then the boy joins him picking and throwing back the fish into water.
In the sky, flying in a circle
are meat-eating vultures.
The sun is getting hotter and hotter.
The fish are getting weaker and weaker.
The vultures are flying lower and lower.
The time is getting lesser and lesser.
Let us pick the fish Now or Never.
Let the nearby poor kids
be the lucky fish
saved by your own hand
like that of old man.
(based on a story I heard long time ago)
Fishees Underwater
Fish have many pretty colors, they live beneath the waves
Some fish seem to swim in schools while others live in caves
Some are short and some are small and some are stringy thin
Some of them are wide and tall and some just dig right in.
There's not much light beneath the waves of all our great big seas,
But all the fish don't seem to mind, they somehow still can see
Plants live down there, under water and make things seem so nice,
That all the fishes dance around and always check things twice.
Some fish swim deep down there, others they just won't
Some of them seem unafraid, but most of them just don't
Some fish have large shiny teeth, some have none at all
Some of them swim hastily, while others only crawl.
Of all the fish and animals my favorite is a star fish
If I find one on the beach, I stop and make a wish
I pick them up and throw them back, far out into the ocean
And hope they learn to not return, or repeat that silly notion.
poem by Daniel Lloyd Kennedy
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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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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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Some things that can happen with a fish
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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31
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thanks To The Rolling Sea
(words & music by batchelor - roberts)
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Fish on the table and fish on the fire, fried fish hanging on the tree
Everything here that your heart desires, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling sea
Living is good and living is fine, were happy as can be
We owe all this to the salty brine, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling sea
We work all day but our hearts are gay, and while we work we sing
The mighty sea is good to us and weve got everything
Abalone steaks and tuna fish cakes, taste so heavenly
We know who we owe it to, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Fish!
I dream of sea
deep beautiful blue sea
I am a fish, a colorful fish
that's what I wish
I dream of water
dancing with the waves
to be a colorful fish
that's my wish!
I dream of wind
touching softly the sea
taking me, the colorful fish
deep deep under the sea!
I dream of love
you being a fish like me
that is all what I wish, dear sea
to be a fish, happy and free!
poem by Arta Krasniqi
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If
If he would come to-day, to-day, to-day,
O, what a day to-day would be!
But now he's away, miles and miles away
From me across the sea.
O little bird, flying, flying, flying
To your nest in the warm west,
Tell him as you pass that I am dying,
As you pass home to your nest.
I have a sister, I have a brother,
A faithful hound, a tame white dove;
But I had another, once I had another,
And I miss him, my love, my love!
In this weary world it is so cold, so cold,
While I sit here all alone;
I would not like to wait and to grow old,
But just to be dead and gone.
Make me fair when I lie dead on my bed,
Fair where I am lying:
Perhaps he may come and look upon me dead—
He for whom I am dying.
Dig my grave for two, with a stone to show it,
And on the stone write my name;
If he never comes, I shall never know it,
But sleep on all the same.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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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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The Fisherman
At night
A man sat there drenched in the dull candle light
He sat there rod in hand
He wished that he might
Be able to catch a fish this night
He liked the pull the thrill the fight
How the fish thrashes on sensing death in sight
On this island so small there is no need for pity
A fisherman knows that killing is not pretty
But to keep money in the pocket
And a belly full of fish
A fisherman must cast out his line
So that someone can have there next dish
It was easy for him
The fisherman I mean
He always enjoyed this scene
Sitting at the edge of the dock
With his bucket, candle, rod, and radio clock
All he has to do is reel in from time to time
Just to check on his bait
And some people are impatient
But he liked the wait
The sea breeze on his face
The sound of crashing waves all over the place
His quiet canopy has fallen around him
The white noise of the ocean could always be broken on a whim
I think he heard us
Because he just shuddered as you caused all the fuss
“You! You think I am lonely, I thank you for your concern”
Turning and smiling his beard looking like a fern
He gnarls his teeth as if he just ate a leaf
“I am happy in this quiet, you can join me if you wish. Just keep quiet”!
“Or you’ll scare away all of my fish”
Written: November 30,2010
poem by Ryan Collins
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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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It's a Fish's Life
Swim fish, swim! swim for your life!
The fisherman's coming you're tea for his wife!
Swim fish, swim! your fastest yet,
You must swim quickly, to avoid his big net!
Swim fish, swim! right out to sea!
For I am a shark waiting, and you're dinner for ME!
poem by George Howard
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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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Under The Grass
I look out at you
over the open blue sky
growing dark
when the sun
like an orange
what a ball
it glows red
and turning to you
saying i say
to you
i do not know
the sea
today
how the wind blows
will it blow
for me to speak
it says
and saying you say
as you want
me to say and we stay
salty water
and blowing the wind
blows as it must
my thoughts as the waves
are as small as the fish
swimming about
in between our toes
and swimming they swim
under the grass
as the waves
pull one back out
deep too sea.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Sky And Water
Birds fly in the sky,
Below the fishes
Swim in the big flat sea.
A bird
Jumps into the water,
Head down, aiming
To catch a fish.
Deeper,
A fish, as it swims up
Toward the surface,
Catches the birds.
As the fish jumps into the air,
A bird catches the fish.
Fishes are birds,
Only water is not like
The air.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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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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She Is There
i see some bamboo poles
lining up
on the shallow sea
she is there
watching some fishes without fins
without scales
she is there on some exclamations
this cannot be!
this cannot be!
the fish i know have fins!
the fish i know have scales all over their elongated bodies!
the fish i know can swim!
why are these fishes dying?
why are these fishes swimless in the sea where they belong?
yes my dear, the fishes and the sea, you do not belong there
the fishes are not yours and you do not belong to them
they have their own salty, slimy, scaly world,
they have gills and fins and round eyes
that do not blink
so you cannot tell them what to do, what to become.
in fact, you are neither fish nor fowl
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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