Salvador Dali Poem
writing what i want to really mean
in a fashion that the surface must be unbelievable
imagine snow in the desert
grass in the sea
penguins on the hills of sands
lions sitting on the pews
fish swimming in the air
but mind you the fish, the lion, the penguins, the grass and sea
and hills and sands, and those pews
oh, they are all really really true,
touch them.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Death of a Planet
The ocean waves crash along the shore
Its deep, gloomy depths hold
untold stories,
untold tragedies
Far away,
miles and miles along.
A 30ft wave submerges
a melting glacier
Penguins and fish alike swim away
to escape
the treacherous ship.
Polluting the water with oil
Pulling up pounds and pounds,
tons and tons
Of fish every day
Neither aquatic life,
nor penguins are safe
From the monstrosity
of human kind.
A mother and father penguin
get caught in a net,
tangle
and die.
Their baby now has to
fend for himself
But
with the shortage of fish,
with the fish gone
He does not
have enough energy
To swim back
to shore
The poor, innocent baby penguin
gets tired
And begins
to drown
Everything goes black
He is dying…
dying…..
gone
poem by Helena Dombrowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aquarium Fun
Have you ever seen an aquarium
With fancy fish swimming around?
Well I saw the most wonderful
Aquarium that I’ve ever found
Every color you can imagine
You’d find in a fish tank were there
Beautiful background for those fish
Not a single thing was spared
The cat fish were so enormous
You could imagine them in a pan
Fryin’ up so crispy brown
So tasty they’d never be bland
But instead we just enjoyed
Watching these fish on display
Swimming ‘round and ‘round
I once even saw them in play
I hope sometime if you haven’t
Been to an aquarium like this
Can observe their beauty as I did
These delightful and colorful fish!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Does a Fish go Pee?
Does a fish go pee
when it's swimming in the sea?
Does it ever get the notion
when it's swimming in the ocean?
Does a fish take a leak
when it's swimming in the creek?
Do they do it in a muddle
when you see them in a puddle?
Does a fish ever miss when it's taking a @! &%
and they find urination
in the farmer's irrigation?
Do you think they're rather fond
of going potty in the pond...
and then, for goodness sake,
do they go while in the lake?
Do they tinkle at all
while in the waterfall?
Could you see a yellow gleam
as they do it in the stream?
Now take a little quiz:
Does a fish ever whiz?
Does a fish go pee
when it's swimming in the sea?
(Written in 1990)
poem by Cathe Ferguson
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You have to check out 'March of the Penguins'. Penguins are the really ideal example of monogamy.
quote by Rich Lowry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Penguin Conference
Three prying penguins clustered close,
Their gossip to relay
And almost standing nose-to-nose,
So secrets couldn't stray!
And so began their chinwag there,
Their raucous rendezvous,
With all the latest they could share,
Like naughty penguins do!
Nobody's safe from prying eyes
And there's the living proof!
Three spying penguins seem so wise
Just 'cos they know the truth!
Nobody trusts a single one!
Nobody calls them friends!
You see the gossips have their fun
At everyone's expense!
The pensive penguins pay no heed,
Addicted as they are,
To others and their every deed,
No matter, near or far!
Their conference is all they've got,
For friends they've found and lost...
And though their gossip's sometimes hot,
They, too, must pay the cost...
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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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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The swimming
fish
Swimming
On
sea sands
with waves...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Sestina
I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow,
to the short day and to the whitening hills,
when the colour is all lost from the grass,
though my desire will not lose its green,
so rooted is it in this hardest stone,
that speaks and feels as though it were a woman.
And likewise this heaven-born woman
stays frozen, like the snow in shadow,
and is unmoved, or moved like a stone,
by the sweet season that warms all the hills,
and makes them alter from pure white to green,
so as to clothe them with the flowers and grass.
When her head wears a crown of grass
she draws the mind from any other woman,
because she blends her gold hair with the green
so well that Amor lingers in their shadow,
he who fastens me in these low hills,
more certainly than lime fastens stone.
Her beauty has more virtue than rare stone.
The wound she gives cannot be healed with grass,
since I have travelled, through the plains and hills,
to find my release from such a woman,
yet from her light had never a shadow
thrown on me, by hill, wall, or leaves’ green.
I have seen her walk all dressed in green,
so formed she would have sparked love in a stone,
that love I bear for her very shadow,
so that I wished her, in those fields of grass,
as much in love as ever yet was woman,
closed around by all the highest hills.
The rivers will flow upwards to the hills
before this wood, that is so soft and green,
takes fire, as might ever lovely woman,
for me, who would choose to sleep on stone,
all my life, and go eating grass,
only to gaze at where her clothes cast shadow.
Whenever the hills cast blackest shadow,
with her sweet green, the lovely woman
hides it, as a man hides stone in grass.
poem by Dante Alighieri
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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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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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Cat Fish
Cat fish play and leap witter-wotter. Over slow yonder. Purple mountains, apple skys, and jam taste like yip. Yap cat fish grew, so fast they licked ripe grass. Lumber slumbers in cat fish numbers. Lovers and muggers fall in deep cat fish reign. Cat fish took a long slumber on there yonder and were eaten by cat fish toddlers. The end!
poem by Shania K. Younce
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Beyond The Distant Hills
The sun is shining for me,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love is waiting,
for my return.
The water is sweet to drink,
beyond the distant hills,
where a warm fire is waiting,
for my return.
The grass bends in the breeze,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love’s heart yearns
for my return.
A candle lights a window,
beyond the distant hills.
Where someone keeps a watchful eye,
for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
where no clouds gather,
and no storms darken the sky.
Beyond the distant hills,
bright eyes wait for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
my dreams will come true,
and I promised myself one day I will get there.
25 April 1988
poem by David Harris
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The timetable of four
The golden glows of sunlight hit me
The smell of freshly cut grass reached me
The sight of freedom exhilarated me
The sounds of birds intrigued me
The beauty around me radiated from everything
The long open stretches of grass
The shady woodlands going on and on
The unending number of livening creatures
The cawing raven in the tree branches
The worm busily digging in the soil
The fish swimming idly in the pond
The child playing happily in the park
It is summer now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Autumn
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are playing in the heaps of leaves
The leaves have all gone a golden colour
The ravens are searching for bugs in the leaves
The fish are swimming slower in their pond
It is Autumn now but it will soon change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Winter
I’ll still be in my tree
There are no children playing
There are no leaves on the trees
The ravens have all gone south
There are no fish in the pond
It is Winter now but it will soon change
It will soon change
It will soon change into spring
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are starting to come back
The ravens are backing cawing in the trees
There is new fish in the pond
There are new buds on the trees
It is Spring now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Summer
I’ll still be in my tree
Waiting
Watching
Writing
Thinking
The Gippsland Hills
The hills of Gippsland were so green but that was in September
And songbirds piping happy songs as well I might remember
But now the Gippsland hills are gray since sun changed the grass colour
And though the sun shines hot today this countryside looks duller.
The Gippsland hills were green in Spring and grass growing winds were blowing
And all along the sunlit hills the wildering flowers were showing
And bell magpie piped his joyful notes and butcherbird was singing
And through those hills those happy hills the bushlark's voice went ringing.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills grown lonelier and quieter
And like the shades of old man's hair they've turned a gray type whiter
The nearby creek in trickle flow, the birds have lost their voices
And not one of Nature's minstrels now on Gippsland hills rejoices.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills have lost their Spring like colour
And though the sun shines hot today the Gippsland hills look duller
But Spring bring green to Gippsland hills Spring rains and soft winds blowing
And birds will sing on Gippsland hills and Gippsland creeks fast flowing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Humility And Truth Of The Non-rhymer
i could have chosen
the rhyme
so there will be a song
singing its own
song
i could have taken
the tapping measure
of the mathematical
meter
of the feet and toes
like a dancer
but it simply runs against
the spontaneity of
my sighs
the everyday touch of the
hands loving the
uneven fingers
caressing to the beat of
my hair splitting and
spreading away to the
gentle blow of the breeze
from the
raging sea
the truth of the matter is
there is reality to the lines of
wanton wilderness
the random specks of sands
blown away
by the sandstorm in the desert
every hour of
my day
on a safari
the deer running away from
the lion
the fledgling swallow flapping its wings
jumping from its nest
in constant fear of falling
the leaf flip flopping its way
down to the sandy earth
the grass spreading without
the desire measure of
the numbers
i like to rhyme but my life
doesn't
it isn't and it can't
and so here i am on the freedom of my verses
a fish swimming where it will to escape the teeth of the shark
a bird soaring up the skies
its eyes closed
to the beauty of speed unseen
even for the time being un-felt
by the intentional rhyming of the words
the craft of man
wanting fidelity to the English language
now open ended
to the present questions: quo vadis?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Delicious Fish's Wishes
Fish, fish, what do you wish?
To each his own,
BUT
I wish
for a fish
on a dish
(mmm... delish!)
'Ah, pish! '
says the darned fish.
'I wish to be
in the sea
swimming free
and...
perhaps...
drinking...
so me...
tea? '
(muttered he,
dreamily.)
'But all in all, just me being me.'
But suddenly!
A bee
stung me
on the knee
(ouch! said I. er, me)
Back to earth with Bree!
And I'm left to wonder
If me the fish would berate
Were he not lying postrate
dead
on my plate...
poem by Breanna Cazalet
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Asking questions (is a good way to see the back of the moon)
...and so she said to the fish,
'HOW DOES THE WATER FEEL FOR FISH? '
and the fish said...
'it feels like walking barefoot through the blue grass at midnight a million shards the long black hairs of a dream... snapping'
poem by Peter Furlong
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And If I Did, What Then?
1 'And if I did, what then?
2 Are you aggriev'd therefore?
3 The sea hath fish for every man,
4 And what would you have more?'
5 Thus did my mistress once,
6 Amaze my mind with doubt;
7 And popp'd a question for the nonce
8 To beat my brains about.
9 Whereto I thus replied:
10 'Each fisherman can wish
11 That all the seas at every tide
12 Were his alone to fish.
13 'And so did I (in vain)
14 But since it may not be,
15 Let such fish there as find the gain,
16 And leave the loss for me.
17 'And with such luck and loss
18 I will content myself,
19 Till tides of turning time may toss
20 Such fishers on the shelf.
21 'And when they stick on sands,
22 That every man may see,
23 Then will I laugh and clap my hands,
24 As they do now at me.'
poem by George Gascoigne
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Snuggle
A warm embrace transforms each soul,
Somehow it changes things...
A humble hug can make you whole,
As if your heart had wings.
Warm-bloodied creatures love the most,
Like lions, tigers, bears...
Yet penguins cuddle coast-to-coast,
All snuggled up in pairs...
Three penguins snuggled up with love,
Contentment in their eyes.
The little one to stare above
At parents, oh, so wise...
To think that this was all they knew,
For nought on Earth they owned...
Yet love itself would see them through,
While life to them was loaned.
Life is a gift, a time to learn,
A sharing, nothing more...
A gift that none of us can earn,
So cherish what life's for...
Three penguins snuggled closer still,
Against the bitter cold...
Yet in each heart was love's warm thrill
More priceless than pure gold...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Snuggle'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Naked In The Jungle
Naked in the jungle, naked to the world
Naked in the jungle, naked to the world
Well, you gotta keep it humble, else itll come unfurled
Lions and the tigers, grazin in the grass
Lions and the tigers, grazin in the grass
As I keep a-watching over, make sure no one can pass
Ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha. aaaaah!
Speak out, speak out, speak out, speak out
Speak out, speak out, speak out, speak out
Speak out, speak out, speak out, speak out
Speak out, speak out, speak out, speak out
Ya na na na na, ya na na na na, ya na na na na,
Ha ha ha ha
Ya na na na na, ya na na na na, ya na na na na,
Ha ha ha ha
Ya na na na na, ya na na na na, ya na na na na,
Ha ha ha ha
Ya na na na na, ya na na na na, ya na na na na,
Ha ha ha ha
Big fish eat the little fish, and the rabbits on the run
Big fish eat the little fish, and the rabbits on the run
Some folks gettin too much, other just aint gettin none
Naked in the jungle, naked to the world
Naked in the jungle, naked to the world
Well, you gotta keep em humble, else youll come unfurled
Lets go boy!
Ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha. aaaaah!
Speak out, speak out, speak out, speak out
Speak out, speak out, speak out, speak out
Speak out, speak out, speak out, speak out
Speak out, speak out, speak out, speak out
Ya na na na na, ya na na na na, ya na na na na,
Ha ha ha ha
Ya na na na na, ya na na na na, ya na na na na,
Ha ha ha ha
Ya na na na na, ya na na na na, ya na na na na,
Ha ha ha ha
Ya na na na na, ya na na na na, ya na na na na
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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