The Academe...
it is circular in shape
the usual
nothing to start with
and nothing to end up,
it is no longer
open ended like a bowl
of aquarium
with a gold fish
swimming within its
limited
confines,
i am inside it
and you cannot just
touch me for
this world
excludes you
and lots of them
it thrives on its own
and by now
having felt all your
exploitations
rejects your
manipulations
it is a pond
of newly bred lilies
underneath
are supersonic fishes
behaving
like ordinary
commonly spotted
black orange
kois.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fish of a Different Color
Big fish and small fish
Swimming here in this pond
Fast fish and slow fish
And now one is gone
Poor, foolish fishes
Just make a few stronger
And watch how these fishes
Devour each other
To be the small fish
I'm sure none would bother
But oh, don't you wish
You could make the pond smaller?
I've found my own niche
To live my life fuller
For I am a fish
Of a different color
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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Brenda's Lonely Fish
I am a tiny flame of gold
That flickers in a jar
I see the world in circles
Eyes watch me from afar
But I can only swim all day
In circles round and around
Out of the glass I see the world
But cannot hear a sound
Trapped inside a goldfish bowl
I swim round and around
I can never catch my tail
Or swim into the sea
Forever watched by strangers eyes
Alone and never free
The world is waiting somewhere
In a river rushing by
Full of fishes big and small, leaping up to touch the sky
But I can only wonder as I swim around all day
Inside my shiny glassy globe
At all thoses fishes out there at play
My mother is called Brenda
She won me at a fete
She's twenty stone and five foot one
And needs to lose some weight
Because I am a tiddler she said
I'll eat that fish
I'll fry that little tiddler
He'll make a tasty dish
For what's the point of keeping
One fish inside a glass?
Without a mate he's miserable
His life span's cut by half
So I'm being humane
To ease his pain, at last
I know I'm vegetarian
But one fishy dish can pass
I'll fry him quick in olive oil
With some nice brown onion rings
On a bed of rice he'll taste real nice
And he won't feel a thing
For death it comes to all of us
But for him it's not too soon
For their's no future for a lonely fish
Trapped in a bowl in my front room.
Of course I could take him to the pond
But the cat is sure to get him
He's better of inside my gut
Then it's easy to forget him!
poem by Yvette Smith
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The Neglected Pond
i may have neglected this pond
some fish are no longer swimming
eventually die in the water
their same burial place
some moss float and the lotus
has not borne any flower since
that day of mourning
someone as i leave may take
notice of this pond
and have pity and pour
everything there
to revive it or
take more perhaps for the
replacement
a new koi or
a gold fish
white pebbles and
a janitor fish
it does not matter for i still grieve
and grieving does not know what hope is
what a new house means
the trails to San Antonio
what are they? but same vomiting mud
and i won't take it
for an answer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Future Leader
Can you imagine?
What kind of person will become a leader
on two years from now?
Is that should be a professor?
Is that should be like a religious people?
Is that should be like a lovely person?
Is that should be a too kind and generous people?
Is that should be like a strict and rude people?
A leader is like a gold fish inside aquarium
People will see from many side
Sometimes it looks so cute
Sometimes it looks so ugly
Sometimes it looks so brightly
But you know, it still gold fish
No one can deny it
This fish never bother what people think
This fish only think that it has part
To bring a nice view inside aquarium
I think our future leader should be like that
Because if we choose them it means
This person can be seen from many sides
And this is our fish
We should trust it and be a good viewer
That Feeling
that feeling of being
a gold fish
inside a round glass bowl
where your world
is only water and
sand
and then hand takes
it and breaks the bowl on the floor
a gold fish wriggles
gasping for air
there is none
do you feel this now?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fishes
Fishes serene
Comfortable.....swim
Free these creatures
Swimming wild?
NO! ...in the fish pond
food thrown is man's send
Water changed
Beautiful his surroundings made
Greens provided
Friends to play
Fish in pond
In heaven of its own?
Truth?
A captive for the rest of his life
Even the fish
Pays for his comforts
In kind....
yet how serene..........
_____________________________ ___________
poem by Malini Kadir
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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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such boredom –
a gold-fish swimming
measuring the aquarium
haiku by Saut Situmorang
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She Ain't Your Ordinary Girl
(Robert Jason)
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She don't love carelessly that's what I've always heard
'Can't use the usual lines she measures every word
No empty promises proof is what it takes to win her heart
The truth and nothing less, simple things that set her far apart
Save your diamonds and your furs she's not your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, no she's not
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, oh no
She ain't your ordinary girl
No midnight alibis, no foolish games for her
And if you cross the line you'll get what you deserve
But when you see her smile nothing seems to matter anymore
And in a little while you'll feel like you've never felt before
Like no other in the world, she's not your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, no she's not
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary, oh no
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
Save your diamonds and your furs, she ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
She ain't your ordinary
She ain't your ordinary girl
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Ocean Poem
I am merely a fish swimming in a pond of darkness.
The trees are anemones standing alone.
Yet still i ride on not giving up
Not stopping at all til we reach the home.
We are all just fish swimming around
We do not take in anything other than the water we breathe
We care about nothing
Its only ourselves we see
that’s why I swim alone in this pond
I don’t want to be like those others
The ones who are all the same
Ill be fine just remember my name
poem by Courtney Tak
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Fish vs. Humans
The fish swim in the coral
and we get stuck in school
Some fish are trapped forever in the aquarium inside the tanks
Some people are trapped by wrongdoings, and are put in prison instead of spanked
Fish swim in schools that look similar to them
Teenagers stay in clicks that I'm sure will never end
Sometimes I go to the aquarium and I admire all the fish
I wonder how many times fish think 'to be a human is all I wish'
poem by Rebecca Bell
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Bond
Bond
His name is James Bond
A small golden fish
Swimming in my pond
Along lines he rises
Cruises on the grid
Has many disguises
Hides and stays hid
Bond
His name is James Bond
A small golden fish
Of which I am very fond!
He's truly ambitios
He's fierce and vicious
Bond - my pet Piraya
Swimming with the fishes.
If My Fish Could Speak
If my two goldfish could speak
they would surely have long conversations
about the weight of pebbles in water
or the buoyancy of plastic plants.
I wonder what they would say as they play together:
nudging back and forth and swimming under and around each other’s feathery-fan tails.
“I love you more.”
“Noooo, I love you more.”
If my fish could brag
they’d tell you about their bowl on the window ledge and
how they watch the cars drive around the parking lot like a crazy human aquarium,
how the sun shines into their bowl in the afternoon,
and how it’s just like swimming through watery gold-dust.
They flutter around, showing off the way their orange skin gleams in the rays of light
that pour around the fake lotus flower I put in there.
(They love that too.)
If my fish could sing,
they would be hard to understand (singing underwater is a challenge-even for fish) .
My fish would know all the words to the newest Kelly Clarkson album,
The Garden State Soundtrack, and all of Prince’s dirtiest songs.
If my goldfish liked Prince, they’re favorite song would be Soft and Wet:
“You're just as soft as a lion tamed/You're just as wet as the evening rain/How will I take it when you call my name? /Your love is driving me...you're driving me insane”
If my fish could hear,
they’d tell you that I talk to myself.
They’d probably also tell you that they’re tired of me talking to them.
Most likely, I’ve assigned them the wrong gender
and they’re pissed about being called
he when it should be she, and she when it should be he.
Luckily for me, my fish are the tolerant kind,
and forgive me of this mistake.
If my fish could read,
they might compare me to Roald Dahl’s The BFG
and call me The BFS: Big Friendly Sara.
Although, as far as size goes, I am much bigger than the real BFG.
(The BFG was about 6 times bigger than Sophie, and I’m 63 times the size of my fish.)
Even though, in this scenario, I’m the taller of the two giants, I am not the superior. When I go to Dream Country to catch dreams, I come back only with bad ones
and I wouldn’t want to keep these in jars on my shelves, even if I could.
If my fish could drive,
they’d fly down the highway
not knowing where it would take them.
They’d snap photos (if fish could snap photos)
of sun rises and sunsets, of road signs, and of bugs that got smashed on the windshield.
They’d laugh and compare the car to their bowl on the window sill,
joking about getting wheels put on it for better parking-lot viewing.
And they’d wish that I was with them on the road.
If my fish could dream,
they’d have nightmares about the over-crowded tanks at Meijer where I bought them.
They’d wake up gasping, and frantically find each other in the dark water.
My fish would also dream about moving on to a larger bowl, somewhere on the eat coast.
Images of sea-life and waves would disappear
When I switched on my desk lamp and said,
“Good morning, my darlings.”
They’d feel guilty about wanting to leave.
If my fish could speak,
they’d tell you that I call them my babies.
They are the silent watchers of my bedroom corner.
It doesn’t matter that I “read like an open book.”
It may be obvious to the world what I’m feeling, but that doesn’t matter to my fish.
They are low-maintenance friends that never assume, expect, or guess
what it is I want to say.
They can only listen.
poem by Sara Waalkes
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Koi
Chinese Carp swimming
in prestigious ornamental tank
prestige purchased expensively
for luck for tradition for prestige.
If you were ravenously hungry
would you eat lucky carp?
Would starving poor people
among you eat it gladly?
Koi - a carp with red-gold or white coloring, kept as an aquarium or ornamental pond fish. Native to Japan and temperate regions of East Asia.
Latin name: Cyprinus carpio
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Fish Year
Marico brought back a tank with salt water from Brazil,
Wnetta bought small stones and water plants from pet store,
The red fish and black fish were got from
Hua’s backyard pond,
After Chris checking the filter
and water temperature,
everything is set,
and the fish is ready to grow and bred.
Gundi feeds the fish everyday,
and watches them day and night.
The red fish swim up and down,
The black fish swim down and up,
The green water plants swing their long leaves
upside down.
We can hear the talk from the tank:
One lady, two ladies, three ladies…
One man, two men, three men…
American, German, Chinese, Brazilian,
Indian, Russian…
The fish is counting! ! !
Counting the people in the lab!
Maybe they learned the counting from Gundi,
Gundi is a great mathematician,
She always counts when she watches them:
One fish, two fish, three fish…
Red fish, black fish, red-black fish…
That’s our first fish year,
we expect to have the second, the third,
and then for ever.
poem by Dongming Zhou
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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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Fish Fear Fishermen
Underneath the sea inhabited the fish
That swam also with warmth and affection.
Seasons in the sea glare like rocks near a cliff,
Falling onto them may be like fishes are enemies.
Hatred of fishes carries a weight too hard,
For the fishermen rejoice at their capture
And consume the heads as well.
Hating the sea is agony, futile and wrong,
For the fish of the ocean meander in swarms
And they flock at the home they live in.
Underneath the sea is a boat of fish,
Funnelling through the portholes, and describing
Their lives in multifarious colours, wreaking havoc
And swaying with the undersea music.
The fish sway in fear of music, and men - Fishermen.
poem by Naveed Akram
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