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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A Carp in the Donut-Shaped Lake
(To Akira Kurosawa)
Swimming in the donut-shaped lake,
The carp goes round and round,
While not in the ocean where waves break,
It is in way more it could want for surround,
While it is not such a make,
None can say it is no found,
For it emule with perfection the sake
Of an environment meant to be confound
For something bigger than lake,
As for here carp goes round and round,
And while at carp's mistake,
Carp finds itself around,
To what comes to partake
Ocean's characteristic abound,
And carp seems to forsake,
The reason to whom it is bound,
And takes for real the fake,
That lake is the ocean's ground,
For carp suffers the redound,
Of the donut-shape of the lake,
It learned to swim round and round,
In this ocean's astounding remake,
With no walls to put brake,
It reminds of ocean profound,
The donut-shaped lake,
Where carp goes round and round,
poem by Pedro Cescon
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I used to have some fish, some nice little carp, but they got too big for the tank. I don't have any pets now.
quote by Tom Felton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are a couple of carp fishing books I've been reading. I'm very interested in that line of books, because I think they write very well, carp anglers, about the general environment.
quote by Tom Felton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bearly a Cereal Killer
The killing fields,
not in Cambodia during the Kymar Rouge Regime,
Not in slaughter house five by Vonnegut,
But an animal that tended to have animal instincts,
appalling isn’t it?
The bear, who is bi-polar,
--no scratch that, single polar,
For the Antarctic continent lacks bears but is for the birds,
Knut, was cute, his diet, seafood he had to taste,
For awhile, but he began maliciously killing carp,
All the possible Gelfite Fish gone to waste.
Knut, the once-cute celebrity polar bear turned vicious killer, is at the center of a controversy over his brutal slaughter of ten carp at the Berlin Zoo. The massive polar bear, who has lived at the zoo since birth, apparently fished the carp out of the moat surrounding him and ripped them to shreds in front of several disgusted zoo patrons.
DE-DE-DE, you wonder if people know about nature.
Life is not orderly and cute,
such as especially Germans can attest to this,
From the chancellors and barons,
'There is speculation that hand-reared Knut killed the carp just for fun.' One German newspaper reported that Knut 'senselessly murdered the carp' before leaving their remains.
I find a paradox that so many were sickened at the thought of many carps being put down by a polar bears,
Yet not more than two generations has passed since millions were slaughtered, but no one knew or were following orders.
(4-13-2008)
poem by Joe Rosochacki
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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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A Fishy Tale
A Japanese gentleman in Tokyo
kept koi carp in an outdoor pond.
They all had beautiful colourings
and they grew to be incredibly long.
At sunrise one Monday morning
he noticed something quite odd.
Two of the fish appeared to be different
and were kissing by a leafy pod.
At first he couldn’t believe what he was seeing,
but both had a human face.
They were blowing bubbles as they were talking
and what they said was out of place.
They spoke of their dreams and aspirations,
and a new life in a larger pond.
The very next day the land became flooded,
as though someone waved a magic wand.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Siluroid
I am the prize catch
I live in an artificial lake
fed by a nappe phréatique
I was put there to keep
lesser fish: carp
from taking up too much space
I live to be caught
and caught again
and be let loose as rain
I protest only to attract attention
Twenty minutes to make things look good
for the fresh-water sportsman
I know now well how to play the game
My almost fanless tail
A slithering mermaid mass from my puffed-up head
where overcoat-button eyes
sunk on either side
of my gaping gasping mouth
shell-fish fins for hands
Seven beige whiskers under my gawking chin
make me the butt
of dare-devil diving click-clucking coots
Even the slender-necked darting grebe ignores me
I stay low when the wild geese gather
with their young:
duckling swan barnacle
I make no sound to call my own
Only the crunch of carp
between two rows of filed-down molars
It is not my duty to swagger around
even under my metallic raincoat camouflage
I hide where the yarrow stalks grow thick and deep
or where the weeping willows dip their loaded plaits
Every Sunday I await the sporting hameçon
The tear makes the wear more ludique
Only the side of my underlip looks like a harelip
It doesn't much matter
for the fun-loving trotters and rovers
like to marvel with pride at my side
in the fishing-club picture of the week
Meantime I gorge myself with carp
That's why I hardly ever wish to carp
(© T. Wignesan - Paris - 2012)
Note: The Siluroid, one of the largest fresh-water fishes, sometimes two metres and a half in length and weighing anything between a hundred and a hundred and fifty kilos.
poem by T. Wignesan
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Fishing For Carp (Hybridanelle)
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and the ringhals till now with eyes brown and unaware
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
when it immediately rears
and girly is ready with the food, ready to deliver
and it gives her a great scare.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and in your mind you are crunching gears
and you wish for her to be anywhere, but right there,
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
and you are angry at the old deceiver
while she brings a tray full of goodies with loving care,
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
luckily she freezes behind you somewhere
and the snake only half alert senses something testing the air
and you wish for her to be anywhere, but right there,
and a nearby tree looks like a quiver
and you are looking for a kind of snare.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and this is now a dangerous affair
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
and the snake only half alert senses something testing the air
slamming down on the snake like with golf driver
and this is it, you have had your share of luck, but still you dare,
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
she screams in fright, while you slam to your right
with your rod whistling
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
and the water shines like silver
and you cuddle her and there's a smile that you share.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver
and you think: not again that spitting thing with its deadly sting,
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears,
with your rod whistling
when it immediately rears.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Fishing In The River At Autumn Night
The moon shines on the river while autumn wind is blowing.
At night, I invite my friends to go fishing and boating.
Rowing our oars, we seek a shoal of fish gladly.
Mooring to pillar of the bridge, we act quietly.
My partner catches a red carp with his fishing bait.
Shaking its head, the reed wonders the old men's fate.
Is the strategist of Zhou Dynasty still fishing?
No! He migrates to the land of peach blossoms sleeping!
Chinese paintings & calligraphy about all Charles Wu's poems
http: //poem.bestfd.com/bbs/forum.php? mod=viewthread&tid=12101&extra=page%3D1
poem by Charles WOO
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Fishing With The Angels
As you lay your head down to rest,
I prey the Angels are doing their best.
I'm sure they will encourage your catch,
But I know they couldnt meet your match.
Fish hard, fish deep...
Even though we weep.
Be it carp or pike... try with all your might.
Dave I know they will bite.
God rest your soul
With your fishing pole.
poem by Denise Frain
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Fishing with My Father
I could fish for hours,
Lose myself in a marsh
Carried by giant carp,
A dragonfly hook its shadow on my eye
And guide me back to my surprised self.
Fishing in silence beside my father,
I would glance up at him
Catching the fishes that got away,
Years that were lost in him,
A sadness inseparable from living.
I caught once, his fish reflection
Sinking below the surface.
poem by Salvatore Ala
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Yeah, we held a junior carp tournament on the St. Lawrence River in New York last August. I hosted that along with a couple of other people.
quote by Tom Felton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem for Tara, by request
I may be
dyslexic
but I know
not to
carp
over someone else's
parc
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Rights for M 'lady Tara
My tabby cat is rather fond
of watching Koi carp in the pond
She sits and watches quietly
a picture of serenity
What thought go through her feline mind
what great ambitions lie behind
those slitted eyes of amber hue
The evil schemes she would pursue.
She’s well aware I’m watching her.
Regards me with a knowing stare.
What would she do If I should leave.
She’d learn to swim I do believe
Across the pond I stretch a net
She hopes one day I will forget,
she lies and watches quite content
Her dreams are far from innocent.
I watch her watching and reflect
there’s nothing else I can expect.
She knows that fish are meant to eat
and she will not accept defeat.
She thinks if she waits patiently
She’ll get her opportunity.
She has the right to dream her dreams
I have the right to foil her schemes.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fishing on a small lake
You had just left me
and I had relocated from Bellville
near Cape Town
to Centurion at Pretoria
and had travelled by airplane
and there was storm damage
to the roads
and I was still waiting
on my removal to arrive
and apart from going to work
I had a lot of time on my hands
and thoughts in my mind,
since I have lost
the only fish that really mattered
and I didn’t really know how.
My rods and reels and fishing tackle
from when I was a boy
was at my mother’s
where I now lived,
and the lake on the other side
of Centurion mall
caught my eye,
while I drove
over the bridge.
On the weekend
loneliness really caught up with me
and my mother
helped me prepare the bait
like she did
when I was a child.
It was nothing fancy,
just custard powder, baking meal
and honey
or baking meal and curry
or a fresh white bread and honey
that I used that summer.
At the lake some black kids
were selling tins with earthworms
to anglers,
but I wasn’t interested
as catfish goes for earthworms as well
and I wanted to catch blue kurper
or carp or maybe yellow-fish.
It was at about eleven o’clock
and some of the other anglers
had already being fishing
since six
and didn’t have luck,
but assured me
that the lake had
big kurper, carp and catfish.
They were very well equipped
with radio controlled bait boats
to take their lines in
and all kinds of modern gizmos.
I settled under a tree
next to the small red hanging bridge
with which visitors crossed the lake
and used two rods
and equipped two hooks on each line.
alternating between the custard
and the curry baits
and thought that I would have
some time to reflect on live,
but I didn’t even get time to wait.
Almost as soon as the sinker
struck the water
I had a bite,
and were catching two fish
at a time.
The biggest kurpers
that I have ever caught
were filling the keep net,
along with some rather large carp.
I came for solitude
and got everything but it
and was too busy
enjoying the experience
to notice
the three or four families
with children
who gathered on the bridge
to watch me.
Some of the other anglers
came over for a chat,
all of them believing
that I was using
some special secret
kind of bait.
I had brought more than enough bait
and gave them some
and that day all of them caught fish
and a little while later
to my astonishment
one even caught a huge catfish.
It wasn’t long before
I had friends right round that lake,
anglers brought me cider,
beer and whiskey,
and an angler
and his beautiful daughter
moved their lines
to right next to mine
and they roasted
chops and sausage
on a Cadac gas frying pan
and I got chops, sausage
and putu porridge
and many more bites
than I had bargained for.
poem by Gert Strydom
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On the hook of truth only small carp will bite; in the net of falsehood the big salmon are caught.
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
I've been inside the house of high end taste
they call it
Airforce One
somewhere in the city of
THe Flesh
High End it caters to the taste
of Prime Ministers and
Justices and
Cabinet Secretaries
to include
The Generals
Count me in
but i will not tell you who i am
or was
and what i do for this
Republic
There is a secret passage
for VIP's
leading to an Aquarium of
First Class Gold Fish
all naked on white smooth flesh
pink breasts and purple nipples
You choose your type
And Someone Up there pays
the Price in Dollars
The Best in Asia
Heaven is at the tip of your tongue
Your finger
and Your
Strong front tail.
If you are poor and not influential
this is nothing
but your usual house of
ill -repute and you are but
and ordinary construction worker
starving for
quick sex and if you are older than 50
they call you
Dirty Old Man
F****S***T
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Authority doesn't work without prestige, or prestige without distance.
quote by Charles de Gaulle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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