Hooked And Eyed
hooked
is the eye
the fish
cannot get
away
caught and
sliced
salted and spiced
on the table
breakfast
one fishy morning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Marc Greets Things in the Morning
Hi boy with the bike on the vase on the bloom
ploom ploom
hi chair by the table
hi bread on the table
hi fisher-of-fish with the pipe
and
hi fisher-of -fish with cap
cap and pipe
of the fisher-of-fish
H i i i —i fish
hi little fish
hi tiny fishy-fine of mine
poem by Paul van Ostaijen
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Fast Food for Thought
The salt is salty
the pepper is peppery
the fish is fishy
the butter buttery
dont bother to ask how
the table was made
just know that it's set
now shut up
give thanks
and eat your meal
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Life's Combination With Fresh Toppings!
A mug of Black Beer
Gives you the taste of bitter life!
And a fistful of salted Pistachios
Feels the flavour of Paradise!
If your beloved goes to bed earlier
Then you could think of a lyrical poem
For her nagging Harp on the breakfast table
With an Omelette or Bacon ends!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Breakfast That We Cannot Eat Together
this is the breakfast that we cannot eat together a fish fried in an oil
with so much heat, like ' who cares? ' a rice not well cooked which says ' it is the maid again! ' a coffee which has gone cold which says ' you come late again! ' a egg which is not sunny side up a ham that does not roll a dirty table with an unwashed table cloth which says 'change it yourself! '
how can i eat all these?
i am late for the office and i have to go.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Something Fishy
There must be something fishy going on
You said you were goin on a fishin trip with some old friend
You said that youd be home tonight somewhere around ten
Well here it is, its two oclock and youre still not at home
I think theres something fishy goin on
I think that Im a sucker thats swallowing your line
I try to make myself believe that its all in my mind
But you never asked me if Id like to go along
So there must be something fishy goin on
Chorus:
Theres something fishy goin on
On these fishin trips youre goin on
Im gettin tired of stayin home alone
Some night when you come home and discover that Im gone
You can bet theres something fishy goin on
I guess some large-mouth bass left that lipstick on your shirt
I dont think youre a fisherman, honey
I think youre a flirt
Well if youre goin fishin then why dont you bring em home
I think theres something fishy goin on
Repeat chorus
Tag:
Yes, you can bet theres something fishy goin on
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven
Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
But is there anything Beyond?
This life cannot be All, they swear,
For how unpleasant, if it were!
One may not doubt that, somehow, Good
Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And, sure, the reverent eye must see
A Purpose in Liquidity.
We darkly know, by Faith we cry,
The future is not Wholly Dry.
Mud unto mud! - Death eddies near -
Not here the appointed End, not here!
But somewhere, beyond Space and Time.
Is wetter water, slimier slime!
And there (they trust) there swimmeth One
Who swam ere rivers were begun,
Immense, of fishy form and mind,
Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
And under that Almighty Fin,
The littlest fish may enter in.
Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
But more than mundane weeds are there,
And mud, celestially fair;
Fat caterpillars drift around,
And Paradisal grubs are found;
Unfading moths, immortal flies,
And the worm that never dies.
And in that Heaven of all their wish,
There shall be no more land, say fish.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1913)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Broiled Fish
Broiled fish and honey,
Can a cock crow and not be heard? !
Black as coal and red as rose,
Salted with love for the light to shine in the darkness!
And like a voice being heard from afar.
Broiled fish and honey,
Green as leaves and salted with love;
And let him or her who reads understand this muse,
For the cock will crow again to our hearing.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Late Last Night
how can i forget
things that embrace me
not for the last time
i am hooked to you
like a fish, i swallowed all
line and sinker
you caught me last night
i was lovely
and i did not give
any struggle
at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Will Apex Predators Eat?
“species tuna sharks
will have no fish
left no small fish
will have no food to eat? ”
when juveniles are caught
all immature fish caught
before next generation breeding
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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We Never Speak
I caught a silver fish
I caught a fish of gold
The first one spoke to me
And so I let it go.
The second told a joke
And I started to laugh
It slipped from my hand
Down into the sea.
Since then I have tried
To learn the language of fish
Of flowers, birds and bears
Sometimes I am they
And they are me
But now we never speak.
poem by Barbara Spring
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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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Dr. Joel Fleischman in nature. Not exactly the man you knew. He couldn't see past the Hudson River if he tried. He liked his fish smoked or preferable hand sliced from Zabars on a sliced bagel served with onions. Nature, to him, was an irritant. Birds didn't sing, they woke him up. A body of water wasn't life, it was a golf hazard..
quote by Robin Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In these days a man is nobody unless his biography is kept so far posted up that it may be ready for the national breakfast-table on the morning after his demise.
quote by Anthony Trollope
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Breakfast In Malaysian Stalls
Listening to the radio DJs,
Driving through the traffic
This match is quite all right,
When these guys poke fun,
At one another and with public,
The sun is just awake,
Chasing the darkened thoughts,
Bright yellow spike, so soft,
The arrival of another morning,
As the windows start to open,
To allow the fresh air in,
The smell of freshly brewed coffee,
Fragrant coconut rice with fried anchovies,
Sliced cucumber, sambal and egg,
That is served under the cool trees.
The early birds drive to these haunt,
To have their breakfast,
Under the pleasant sun,
The breeze move around them,
To bring the heaven to earth,
Young and old, rich and poor,
Everyone wants to sit in the open air,
To have their breakfast and dinner,
On this land, where my mother was born,
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gone Fishing
Sylvia searched the whole house over
Calling out her lover's name...
He was not there, oh no ~ oh no,
He was hooked on the fishing game.
Down to the water he had gone,
Whether the sport was right or wrong!
The river was his hideaway,
So peaceful, on a warm summer's day.
Sweet Sylvia disliked the hobby,
Thought the fish could feel the pain.
She saw them struggle for their freedom
But Sylvia would never complain.
Now to wait three hours, or more.
Until that key turned in the door,
And he would greet his Sylvia dear
All laden down with his fishing gear.
And tomorrow morning may well be the same
'cause he was hooked on the fishing game.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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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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Sliced Bread
Sliced bread...
Whole wheat and toasted.
Buttered with jam,
And munched.
Either with tea, punch...
Or just plain water for lunch!
Sliced bread...
With cheddar cheese and tomato.
Add Romaine lettuce,
Topped with fried strips of bacon.
This too will certainly do.
Sliced bread...
Oatmeal raisin,
Oven baked and fed.
Sliced bread...
Crumbed to stuff a turkey.
And seasoned to gobble...
With an aftertaste on the tongue,
Deliciously nutmeged!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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