At The Fishing Village
life is simple here
and i learn a lot
first, i put the bait
on the hook,
got an earth
worm
wriggling
attractive inside
the green
water
i throw the line
a fish
catches
the bait and
it is caught
i cook what i catch
and have
my own fill
i get what i
deserve.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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
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In His Fishing Expedition
in his fishing expedition
his bait is this bluff
and with gullibility
you take the bait,
swallow the hook, line and sinker
i say
baby you have not yet learned the intricate art of the spies
those who are still not captured by the enemies
in the middle of their yards
take the bait
and put it back to the sea
you must learn how to fish too
in this expedition of lies and deception
take the shape of the mythical mermaid
swim like a slimy fish but sing like a beautiful woman.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Angler
Now as an angler melancholy standing
Upon a green bank yielding room for landing,
A wriggling yellow worm thrust on his hook,
Now in the midst he throws, then in a nook:
Here pulls his line, there throws it in again,
Mendeth his cork and bait, but all in vain,
He long stands viewing of the curled stream;
At last a hungry pike, or well-grown bream
Snatch at the worm, and hasting fast away,
He knowing it a fish of stubborn sway,
Pulls up his rod, but soft, as having skill,
Wherewith the hook fast holds the fish's gill;
Then all his line he freely yieldeth him,
Whilst furiously all up and down doth swim
Th' insnared fish, here on the top doth scud,
There underneath the banks, then in the mud,
And with his frantic fits so scares the shoal,
That each one takes his hide, or starting hole:
By this the pike, clean wearied, underneath
A willow lies.
poem by William Browne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The fishing
Lust is the bait given by the God
To get the fish which are children.
We don’t catch fish with the bait
And instead eat the bait and forget fishing.
17.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Isaac Newton
Isaac Newton
For years he fished in the nearby lake,
but the fish would never take his bait.
So he baited his hook with crusty-bread,
but even that didn’t turn their head.
He changed the bait to a lump of cheese
and thought this would tempt and tease,
but alas no bites from dusk till dawn,
so he changed the bait to boiled corn.
With no success with boiled wheat
Newton would not accept defeat.
So he put a juicy worm upon the hook,
but even this got no second look.
He cast aside his tackle and thoughts of fish,
and became a mathematician and physicist.
One sunny morning beneath an apple tree
he sat reading a book of philosophy.
From the lake a fish leaped high above his head,
but an apple fell down and hit him instead.
He looked up for the fish and it fell onto his lap,
so he ate the apple and put the fish back.
poem by Orlando Belo
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When I Go Fishing
when i go fishing
i am always reminded
of the fish in the pond
and the hook, line
and sinker
the bait is this worm
this shrimp
and objective is always
the fish
in there
one drinks so much silence
by the pond
i see the ripples
i see the shadows of fins
i drink so much silence
i fathom so much depth
i might have missed the elusive fish
losing my worm and my shrimp
what i bring home is this inner peace
and so i never mind the shadows of the fins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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When I Was A Child
when i was a child
i used to fish in the nearby river
there was silence
i can hear the songs of the reeds
and the whispering sighs of the nipa palms
i sat and waited
until a fish swallows my hook, line and sinker
and the with one pull i got the fish
off the water and into the soil
it grapples for death
for taking my bait.
now, i have become a man
and i have nothing to do with the fishes anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lonely Poets
Lonely poets submit lonely poems
Like their dogs and their exes
When your a redneck like me
We fish and we hunt,
Looking to hunt
When the old lady lets us
So check this out, I fished instead and caught a memory,
She never had seen even bait.
I told her for shark we needed mammals and such
We had a talk
She said it smelled like pure t hell
I said what the heck my chittlings turned green
So let's use them for bait or with asses to mate
Give it up for my long ear girl
, Shark bait is cheap and so is road kill
Fisherfolk
I like to look at fishermen
And oftentimes I wish
One would be lucky now and then
And catch a little fish.
I watch them statuesquely stand,
And at the water look;
But if they pull their float to land
It's just to bait a hook.
I ponder the psychology
That roots them in their place;
And wonder at the calm I see
In ever angler's face.
There is such patience in their eyes,
Beside the river's brink;
And waiting for a bite or rise
I do not think they think.
Or else they are just gentle men,
Who love--they know not why,
Greeen grace of trees or water when
It wimples to the sky . . .
Sweet simple souls! As vain I watch
My heart to you is kind:
Most precious prize of all you catch,
--Just Peace of Mind.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Say It Bait It And Run
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it and berate it.
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it,
Leave and run.
How we slid to the bottom from the top.
Say it bait it and run.
Who did what to start this problem.
Say it bait it and run.
Corruption done under dirty rugs.
Say it bait it and run.
What thugs brought this to fisticuffs.
Say it bait it and run.
What party pooped their rule.
Say it bait it and run.
Who's too cool and cuckoo too!
Say it bait it and run.
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it and berate it.
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it,
Leave and run.
Who's too cool and cuckoo too!
Say it bait it and run.
Who's too cuckoo and too cool.
Say it bait it and run.
Who's too cool and cuckoo too!
Say it bait it and run.
Who's too cuckoo and too cool.
Say it bait it and run.
But that cool cuckoo's no fool.
To cause what has been done!
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it and berate it.
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it,
Leave it and run.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fish Deeper, says HE
Rainy days chill makes me lazy here in my cabin
Only croaks of frogs, I hear, singing with no rhythm,
Snails crawl on the ground; earthworms are visible in my garden
Used them as baits, to the river I went for some fishing.
Yet water running from slopes makes the river cold
No fish on surface, they swim deep and avoid,
I stayed hours while singing 'Raindrops Keeps Fallin' in my Head'
But nay, no fish eats my bait; can I just shoot them, instead?
Sam said true, 'Fish deep, fear not to plunge deep
Fulfillment is gained; why not face your fear,
Swim and play, water is enticing, dear
Water holds fun and lots from it to keep! '
I like to catch fish, though I cannot swim deep
Neither kill a fish, take off its intestines and gills,
Scaling it, cook and eat it in zest
I'd prefer catching fish and throw it back, I guess!
Hmn...I think I prefer it as a sport than feed
Yet I have naughty thoughts as I do the deed,
If my man was here, he may join me as we catch fish
Ha ha! Can we make love before we eat the main dish? (Wink)
poem by InNer WhisPers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Going Fishing
Going fishing for some poems
I haven’t caught before
Sailing in the ocean
Far from the sandy shore
Going to take the works of Shakespeare
Use his words as living bait
Going to cast them far and wide
And in the moonlight wait
I may catch a slippery conger
I’ve heard they send out shocks
Best I wear some gloves
And a pair of rubber socks
It may be the whale who saved Jonah from the deep
I’ll thank him for his mercy and let his life him keep
I’ll tell him to read the Tempest where forgiveness rules the sea
Then I’ll row home in happiness and ever more shall be.
But what if I catch a shark who tears bodies limb from limb
I’ll say go seek the whale and find forgiveness there within
I’ll fish right through the darkness till the western skies are bright
I’ll throw back the empty poems and just keep the one’s with light
You may think I'm cuckoo crazy fishing for poems in the sea
But where on earth do they come from? it’s not inside of me
I’ve looked inside my ears and deep down inside my throat
They seem to come from somewhere, and it’s not inside my coat.
poem by Wojja Fink
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Watching the hours pass by
Johnny sits waiting all day
For fish to arrive
He wonders whether they have died
For hours and hours he waits for the fish to take it’s bait
A ripple in the lake
Sends his fishing rod a warning
The worm has been spiced up for the fish
Its fragrance was aroused in the lake
The fish tasted the hot spices in the cool lake
“Steady old girl” says Johnny with a smile
“ Soon you will be mine”
Ripples overlap
The fish rod numbs with pain
The fish battles with the rod
Johnny pulls harder
He will not let go
Its weight surpasses that of a stone
The fish hooks himself loose
The ripple disappears
Johnny sits waiting at the end of the lake
Waiting for another to taste his spicy bait
poem by Lee John Siebritz
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I Bait With My Heart
'When you fish for love, bait with your heart, not your brain.'
Mark Twain (1835-1910)
since i shall fish
for love,
so i have love
as bait
not my brain
which has given
me more pain
than pleasure
the thoughts
that shy away
from the true meaning
of love
looking into the dictionary
of words
rather than deeds
because precisely
God has invented the
hug
so we may learn to
love sans
the uselessness of
words.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The fish does not go after the hook, but after the bait.
Satan's Lures
Satan loves the sport of fishing.
His tackle box filled with bait,
he goes out to the lake of life
to cast his line, and wait.
The devil knows us, every one
and knows which lures to use.
In accordance with our weaknesses
he determines which to choose.
Dishonesty, pornography,
pride, selfishness and hate.
False witness, greed, the list goes on.
The sin becomes the bait.
Many bite and are deceived.
And in a snap they're hooked.
They learn too late that Satan's bait
is not as it had looked.
It's important that we choose the right
for this life is our test;
and when we choose to do what's right
we truly will be blessed.
So feed on Heavenly Fathers words.
Great blessings will be yours,
as you watch and pray, and stay away
from Satan and his lures.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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