Future Livelihood Foul Hooking
go Filipino babies fishing
catching killing
juveniles before breeding
leaving nothing
all small fish taking
destroying breeding
cycles future renewing
future livelihood foul hooking
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Avoiding Deleted Links In Food Chain
healthy fishing practices?
sustainable fishing
immature fish leaving
leaving for breeding
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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Breeding
I named breeding, which comes from 'April is the cruellest month, breeding'
Breeding
2012 year make a more breeding in doimg
everything
poem by Min Kyungdae
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rage The World
Supposed developed country
embarked upon
quested industrial rivalry.
Seduces all innards parts.
Chinese mentality
challenges
with unhinged reality.
Corpulent Later Day Capitalists.
Earth rape embryo
pristine natural resources.
Shame righteous scream protesting
misguided shame.
Chinese Taiwanese Japanese
all is same to offended Greenies.
Protesting, adrift, drift-net fishing, mentality.
Rape Humanities Sea.
Conservation Moderation
is expletive obscenity
empty phraseology to excessive Asia.
Intoxication is exploitation
to such power craven
overindulgent modernization freaks.
In mass programmed request
for nationalistic gory glory.
In 1989, the year of this poems writing, China Taiwan and Japan in that order, were reported as the three worst countries in the world; using drift-net fishing nets, with a mesh so small, no breeding sized fish could escape the net. No breeding stock, no next generation of fish as a sustainable resource. Has anything changed?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hope In Limbo
Doused conflagration delivers ashes.
A harvested plantain tree
Gives breathing space for suckers to thrive.
The transition of a great monarch
Revives sinew of hope on heir aparent.
A great man transits
Bequeathing great inheritance to successors.
A leading horse in a race
Beckons on other horses to increase speed.
I ruminated over these sayings;
I was imbued to think about the youths.
Like a clairvoyant;
I peeped my third eye
Misty vision beclouds me
Palpable despodency clothed me
Looming confusion beckons on the future
Planlessness of past years
Is about to birth anarchy
I sighed with great pain.
I wonder if others
Are seeing the same.
I wonder as the elders
Nonchalantly attend to the future.
Elders are around
Yet the heads of new babies
Are not properly rested
At the back of their mothers.
The youths are in pains.
In pain of joblessness.
In pain of docility.
As early morning breaks daily;
More confusion powdered young faces.
They wandered about for nothing
Their energy and potentials.
Are being buried as days go bye.
Hope bleaks the more daily
I watched in disbelief
How elders are at marketplace
Yet babies are improperly rested
Behind their mothers
We blame the youths
Forgetting our traditional roles
We spared the rods
Breeding future rascals
We extremely copied human rights
At the detriment of our children's future
We failed to culvitate the fallow soil
Leaving wild animals behind
To ravage our youths.
We cherish our careers
Leaving a porous future
Our cosmetic joy of today
Is ruining hope for future
Hope is in limbo.
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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Future Babies
A flower stands erect upon the stem.
Odd:
It bears the naked flesh of many men –
Pulsing, writhing, arteries humming;
Androgenic fluids chase their channels
To the ground, caking at a mound
Of naked girls, who pout in doubt and
Hurl their rabid glares from eyes
That catch the light of want
And desperation.
Sighs:
They know the separation
Stays their open legs
From bursting cocks.
Masturbation of the mind
Is all they need –
They’re in the docks of
Fate:
The evil Overpopulation’s out to feed
Their thund’rous urge to procreate!
Forget the conjugation, just for once?
Bag the bulbous tits in bras.
I know they want the tongue on c*nts;
But focus! Where’s the room to live?
And think about the future babies.
THINK:
You know they won’t forgive
Your selfish drive to suck, to shag.
The Dying Age of Man will drag
Him down to disappear.
So keep the girls away from sperm –
Don’t let the men up there!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Future future future future future future, where's the future?
Future future future future future future, where?
Future future future future future future,
Future future future future future future, where's the future?
Future future future future future future, HERE!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We have been God-like in our planned breeding of our domesticated plants and animals, but we have been rabbit-like in our unplanned breeding of ourselves.
quote by Arnold Toynbee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fishing Poem
Fishing in the moonlight or fishing in the sun;
Fishing for the big ones is fun, fun, fun.
Catching the small ones or none at all,
It’s a great sport to get on the ball.
Good luck on your next trip,
And let’s hope you don’t get sick.
poem by William Sawyers
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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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Good breeding differs, if at all, from high breeding only as it gracefully remembers the rights of others, rather than gracefully insists on its own rights.
quote by Thomas Carlyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Features of the Future
I'm closer to the future
Than I was yesterday.
The highway of the future
Is in each break of day.
I frame my future
By the decisions I make.
I encounter the future
If diligent steps I take.
Plans for the future
I made in the past.
Today I face the future
Yet it won't last.
Depending on the future
Is so inefficient.
Because the so-called future
Is vague and transcient!
'you'll live well in the future
if the present is well lived! ! '
poem by Robert Reuben
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Leaving Me Behind
The tramp moves on to the end of the street
I listen to the echo of his hobnail feet
For some theres a future to find
But I think theyre leaving me behind.
The world humes on at its breakneck pace
People fly in their lifelong race
For them theres a future to find
But I think theyre leaving me behind.
The chances they come, but the chances have been lost
Success can be gained, but at too great a cost
For some theres a future to find
But I think theyre leaving me behind.
The wind sweeps up and goes back to its tree
The rain flows by and moves to the sea
For them theres a future to find
But I think theyre leaving me behind.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autothysis
I'm destroying myself
I'm rotting in the dark
So cold
So thin
Jeopardy of the future
My future
Fucking regret
of everything
The inside
is destroying the outside
One more zip
and my organs will explode
These mistakes
Face is so pale
out of fear of the great collapse
the great collapse caused by weight I've put on my shoulders
Out Of Tune
Overwhelming as they are
Breeding hope by counting stars
Merge the bitterness the pain
Which Im sure
You can explain again
One gets hurt when she feels small
( and shes longing for some peace )
Beeing the center of it all
( slow attack but fast release )
Hear the difference in vain
Out of tune but just not quite the same
Overwhelming as they are
( with their mistifying glow )
Breeding hope by counting stars
( as they hunger for the show )
Hear the difference in vain
Out of tune but just not quite the same
song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The summer
The summer is busy
catching speed
and I see how the bright blue sky,
is changed by clouds
that suddenly hangs dark and breeding.
In the distance a thunder rolls
and there are big drops
that falls about me in the red dirt
and I can almost see the grass,
bushes and trees
jump centimetres
from the power
that the clear drops bring.
Small sprouts are bursting green
out of the red brown ground
in the vegetable garden
and the magic of new life
is everywhere to be seen.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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440
Accept the fact
The fear that you have nothing to tell anymore
To amuse yourself
writers' block, shutting up, windows closing,
doors locked, mind shrinking,
like the fish vendor who sells rumors & rotten stories
To the streets
You go to the fish market today
Not buying any fish or selling any or even touching gills
so you can breathe
You’re looking for some
Salt
Taking notes of the fish scales discarded
Trashed
Some fish bones & broken fins
some fishermen catching
Broken hearts on their small eyed nets
You go back with fish fins
And fish tails, thick lips and round moving eyes
You will start with a mermaid story today.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing To Tell, Begin With A Mermaid Story
Accept the fact
The fear that you have nothing to tell anymore
To amuse yourself
writers' block, shutting up, windows closing,
doors locked, mind shrinking,
like the fish vendor who sells rumors & rotten stories
To the streets
You go to the fish market today
Not buying any fish or selling any or even touching gills
so you can breathe
You’re looking for some
Salt
Taking notes of the fish scales discarded
Trashed
Some fish bones & broken fins
some fishermen catching
Broken hearts on their small eyed nets
You go back with fish fins
And fish tails, thicked lippes and round moving eyes
You will start with a mermaid story today.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On An April Evening In The Fall
With folded wings the fishing gannets plunge into the sea
And the nuggety old man with fishing rod was waiting patiently
For a fish to bite as the incoming waves splashed quite close to his feet
And each new wave it came surging in as each old wave did retreat.
Have you been catching many fish today? of the fisherman I inquired
Not been doing too well today mate the old fellow replied
I've yet to catch a fish today, sometimes in the rising tide
From cover they don't venture out between the rocks they hide.
I'll stay another hour he said at least until twilight
The wife would like a good sized fish to cook for tea tonight
Still I don't like my chances much it's a quarter after four
I'll stay till a quarter after five and not one second more
The silver gulls cry on the beach the angry ocean roar
The gannets fishing on the bay, the old man from the shore
And people walking on the beach before their evening tea
On a sunny evening in April in the Fall by the Pacific sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Accordingly
someday everyone will be wise in the future
everyone will be sensible and forward thinking
wear sensible shoes and act accordingly in the future
wise action according to everyone will be the act
of the future everyone will be futuristic someday
according to god according to everyone and their shoes
in the future everyone will be godless and free
act accordingly in the future or else
play accordions wisely in your godless future
in the future accordions will play themselves
act three in the future: there will be no accordions
everyone will get nostalgic for the accordion god
and act as if they were wise in the future
everyone will be according to god
in the future everyone will not act accordingly
wisdom is unholy in the future
to act accordingly is to stay out of trouble
in the future jails will be bigger and much better
everyone will need some punishment in the future
thinking of accordions will be a crime
lawrence welk is a revolutionary in the future
to act accordingly is to act with wisdom
everyone will act as one in the future
accordingly for everyone to act
in the future everyone will be discredited
everyone must act now to avoid the future
be wise and dont act accordingly
play accordions in the street the future cannot
wait for wisdom and forced accord
one chord might save the future
poem by Stephen Roxborough
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Fishing for carp
Fishing for carp, probably kurper or yellow-fish
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
frying it near to the car on a Cadac frying pan,
(you know how it is)
with a six-pack cooling in the river
and then a sound, a movement making you shiver
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears
and girly is ready with the food, ready to deliver
a tray full of goodies that she made with loving care
and you wish for her to be anywhere
but right there, but luckily she notices the snake
freezes behind you somewhere
and the ringhals till now with eyes brown and unaware
only half awake senses something testing the air
with forked tongue and rears up ready to strike or spit
and this is it, you have had your share of luck, but still you dare
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
you slam to your right
striking the spitting hissing thing and it is flying
and it misses sweetie by a mile and luckily it is the last sight
that you have of it, while she screams in fright
and curses the day, morning sun and night
as a rattled girl sometimes does
and you assure her that every thing is well, is all right
and then unexpectedly you have a bite,
the policeman jumps and you are in for a fight
while the mother of all fishes
struggles to be free and you smite
the other rod, hooking it well and good
and the rites of fishing is well understood
and girly is handy with the catching net,
smiles in a better mood.
poem by Gert Strydom
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