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
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Related quotes
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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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
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You kill the River not the Fish
waste dump makes us numb, plant grows
made us a calm, river flows lead us to glow in
the Lilies where they want go
beautiful fish as it swim, in the fresh water
it flaps; breathing as it dances, waiting to
see the angler hook, in a beautiful sway you
are always seen
gills so shinny, bone so flexible to cook, eyes
that looks like a golden moon in the gloomy
nights you will always stay
jump, jump and jump follow the rhythms of
the stream; almost going near to the sea, where
your heart sings and leads me to be happy
as the river goes out its way, turbid where
nobody wants to fish, everyday faces wants
to tease; it’s the clear water you always dump
makes me ugly, for each waste makes me
so funny
why are you not so sensitive to my calls, where
your eyes in fact is not big as me, you’ve made
me lost, nay! the food that is sweet and plenty,
serve and give the table now is empty
look at me now, my eyes is blind in your hands;
accept that you’re not so lucky for the
river now seems not for everybody; they’re all
dead and you come to me to beg
please listen first to my flee …..
poem by Antonio Liao
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At the Vaal river
At the Vaal river finches twitter
and nests hang all over the willow trees
and the fishermen
sit from dusk next to the water,
to try and catch a big one.
I see a monitor
going from the water
into the undergrowth
and hear how the rippling stream
flows over rocks at places
There’s a water beetle
that swims around and around
in a calm pool
and tadpoles that rush to and fro.
With time spent at the river
I find some tranquillity,
while the cars above at the bridge
rush by frantically.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A net, fish and the ocean
I am a net and I have to obey what Master says.
I also like to get a rest as the others
But he throws me into the water day & night for a big catch.
What can I do my little fish?
We are eternal foes in this dirty game
----
I am a fish and my Master never allow me to live ashore.
But my question is why people come to sea and catch us?
----
I am the ocean and I watch the sky forever.
Horizon is an illusion and we never met.
* To the author, Ernest Hemingway for his precious novelette 'The old man and the sea'.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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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
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Gentle Creature
Gentle creature of the seas swimming happy, swimming free
dives into the sea with grace surfaces to show it's gentle face
Why are people so cruel to gentle creatures like you
You should be left to swim in peace
Graceful through the water you swim diving out and diving in
Oblivious to the world around across the water you leap and bound
Hours of fun you do provide playing, chasing then you hide
To the surface again you rise
How sad it would be if you were no more
If we could not stand upon the shore and watch you're playful
antics forever more
poem by Jenni Burt
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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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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.
The Tale Of Meenkumar
Long long ago
Man used to live on the bank of the ocean
There were many lakes and rivers surrounding the ocean
The banks of the rivers and lakes were full of trees
Many forests were there
Those were deep forests
In the forests there were many wild animals
Man lived on the bank of the ocean
Because of the danger of the wild animals
Except farmers, fishermen, craftspeople abode there
Fishermen knew fishes were the saviors of their life
So they didn't catch fish every time
They didn't catch fish unless it was necessary
They didn't kill the fry and not even the pregnant fish
There was the Meen kingdom in the oceans
What is Meen?
It is a kind of fish
They used to rule the kingdom of the oceans
One day, one Meen prince came out of the palace because of forgetfulness of mind
He was roaming and came at a place full of mosses and rocks
There were many big and small fishes
One big Salmon fish was delighted to see the beauty of the Meen prince
He felt greed to eat him
Meen prince escaped when he saw the salmon swimming towards him
Meen prince hid himself under the rocks
Salmon knew that Meen cannot stay for a long time there
When he would come, he would catch him and eat
It would be a wonderful dinner for him
Meen prince passed the night by hiding under the rocky place
Early in the morning, fishermen came to catch fish
Meen prince saw a child fisherman
He requested him to save his life
Finally the fishermen encircled the Salmon fish and caught it
Meen thanked the child fisherman and luckily returned to the palace
This was the tale of Meenkumar....
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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I Stand And Watch To Wait...To Rest!
I stand and watch to wait.
I've been told to have patience.
But...
Hesitating in anticipation,
Has never satisfied my curiosity.
And it seems such a waste,
To rely on someone else's opinion...
When this experience of life is mine.
So I am convinced...
If I should wait for another second,
Another minute to pass...
My venture will be delayed!
And 'why' should I let it?
I stand and watch to wait.
I've been told to have patience.
But...
I am no doctor!
And at the price I've paid already...
I am no longer willing,
To trust my fate...
In the faith kept in someone else's statement.
I've given that kind of time before.
No more!
I stand and watch to wait...
To rest!
And catch my breath I do,
Before I move.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When I remember the fish
When I remember the fish,
The river longed me to go,
Wriggling and meandering, slippery in this
Imaginary waters of my world,
I become a fish.
When eye sea them eat the fish;
They cast their nets for a random catch, they
Drop their hooks for a strangling pull, then,
I become a fish no more.
When them fail to catch the fish;
As the fish wriggles an escape,
Then eye long to be like one as eye
Wonder whether or not am a fish.
©1998
poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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I Loved A Man that Loved to Fish
I loved a man that loved to fish.
He’d go down to the waters and cast his rod like a penny for a wish.
What he thought, whatever what- if he played, I’d love to know
For when he was away fishing his face was a glow.
Wishing away he’d sit all day and night,
Wading his patience against the twilight.
Patience was his tool
He’d tire his fish like the destructive heart of a fool.
With a gentle cast, not too high or low, his shinny fly would lure
Then his fish would run and he’d ignore.
After it was caught he’d throw it back for another man’s game
Or catch it again tomorrow, they were all the same.
I loved a man that loved to fish
And in his shadow I ran waiting to be his wish.
(Bernadette Bridges 9/08)
poem by Bernadette Bridges
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Fishing in the Wei River
In waters still as a burnished mirror's face,
In the depths of Wei, carp and grayling swim.
Idly I come with my bamboo fishing-rod
And hang my hook by the banks of Wei stream.
A gentle wind blows on my fishing-gear
Softly shaking my ten feet of line.
Though my body sits waiting for fish to come,
My heart has wandered to the Land of Nothingness.
Long ago a white-headed man
Also fished at the same river's side;
A hooker of men, not a hooker of fish,
At seventy years, he caught Wen Wang.
But I, when I come to cast my hook in the stream,
Have no thought either of fish or men.
Lacking the skill to capture either prey,
I can only bask in the autumn water's light.
When I tire of this, my fishing also stops;
I go to my home and drink my cup of wine.
A Dry Land
this used to be a river
filled with fish
we used to catch some here
days and years
lump together and humans
pack up
rivers convert themselves
to cities for need of space
this one shall follow
it is not the sun that has
taken what it has
a tractor builds a dike
and takes all the water here
this is dry land
no fish, no water,
no moss, sand is filled
and rocks
delivered to make
out of this river
a new housing subdivision
at a higher cost
than money
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Fishhook
The dead are raised up and many are shocked!
For the blind receive their sight to tell a story;
So come and let me show you the lepers who are cleansed.
The lame do walk and the deaf do hear,
But now the day is almost over on this love that muses;
For the water bottles of the heavens are lying under the lotus trees.
Life is like the boiling pot on the fire and,
To pull out Babylon with a fishhook!
For my friends have afflicted me with their words and,
Now around me are wells without water in them.
Beguiling unstable souls,
Of eyes full of fornications!
And in the uncleanness of their lust they fell into the deep waters.
They allured through the lust of their flesh but,
I need a fish's hook to stand up strong by the water side;
And like the early and the latter rains in the land of destruction.
Sleep like he slept and pray like he prayed,
Walk like he walked and cook like he cooked,
For i have seen eyes full of adultery around me!
And the blind received their sight to tell a story.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Savior
if the saviour came again today,
Would you like him or turn him away,
would he have a girlfriend with a thong,
Or a boy group singing dumbass songs.
Would he be a rapper with a gun,
Or a bugger building steel buns.
If the saviour was crucified to lose
What's the difference ?
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
watch me walk on water
watch me walk on water
watch me walk on water
before they...
put me in a box
We should have never
Gotten another break,
Praying is an art for it's own sake,
Would he have a pair of Gucci shoes...
With a pitbull
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
watch me walk on water
watch me walk away on water
watch me walk on water
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
get me outta here
watch me walk on water
watch me walk away on water
watch me walk on water
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fist Pt2
a fish a fish
can anyone be a fish?
swimming this way and that way
what a glee that would be
watch out for sharks they bite,
dont fancy being a bite do you
under millions of miles of water
oh dear not for me
i'll just stay me..
poem by Christina McIntosh
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Swimming With The River's Rage
when the meaning of water
ceases to be fluid
one fish swims with the rage of the river
looking for sharp stones
to tear off its fins
looking for a crazy fisherman
to catch it
hook, like and sinker
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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By The Ocean (For Dislocated Heart)
I stand by the ocean,
Breathing in the crisp air of night fall,
Watching the moon slipping away,
As the sky melts into the sea;
An endless darkness.
I can feel my mind falling into its depths,
Thinking about every breath I take,
About the world above,
And the world below.
Questions fill my mind,
Questions of life, living, and existence,
Yet still I stand,
Silent and still.
The gentle breeze in the palm trees,
Brushing my hair across my face.
The wind pushes my dress against my legs,
The feeling almost mimicking that of the water.
I can feel the cool spray of the ocean with each wave,
A giant lung breathing the same air as I.
It is a calm entity existing to exist.
A world so unknown and full of wonder,
Yet so simple from above…
I breath a sigh and close my eyes,
The sight of the waves imprinted on my eyelids,
The scent filling my nose and mouth,
The water touching my skin,
The taste of the salt on my tongue,
The repetitive sound of the water endlessly fill my mind.
My feet buried in sand as if to be innocent sand crabs.
A moment so calm and simple,
Yet so meaningful,
If you take the time to experience it,
A moment in which nothing else matters,
Nothing but the water, the sand, and living.
Everything else, like the sky,
Melts away into the sea,
Into the endless dark abyss.
And so I stand,
By the water,
Living and breathing.
If only the world would stop for a moment,
A moment to live and breathe too;
So relaxing and yet so eye opening.
The silence of the night wrapping around me,
The ocean rocking me into sweet oblivion.
Until I have to open my eyes and walk inside,
Back to reality,
But until then,
I'll just stand here,
By the ocean.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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