A Penguin
THE Pen-guin sits up-on the shore
And loves the lit-tle fish to bore;
He has one en-er-vat-ing joke
That would a very Saint provoke:
'The Pen-guin's might-i-er than the sword-fish';
He tells this dai-ly to the bored fish,
Un-til they are so weak, they float
With-out re-sis-tance down his throat.
poem by Oliver Herford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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.
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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Tiny Rhyme
Fish oh! fish
swish a miss
wish on hiss
shush to hush
Push push
oh! fish
flush a blush
fresh 'n' mush
Fish oh! fish
slush the gush
slash in gash
splash the plush
Fish oh! fish
pose to posh
rush a mash
fish oh! gosh!
poem by Mubeen Sadhika
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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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The Sea’s Fish
Fish are commands of the sea,
Opening our shelves and brilliance.
Guard yourself from the hungry fish,
Letting them go in the sea and ocean.
Inside the fish are fishes, of gold,
Of silver and flesh, of simple metal.
Let this be a challenge for the mighty in health,
Not for a soul too weak, afraid of fish.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Watching the hours pass by
Johnny sits waiting all day
For fish to arrive
He wonders whether they have died
For hours and hours he waits for the fish to take it’s bait
A ripple in the lake
Sends his fishing rod a warning
The worm has been spiced up for the fish
Its fragrance was aroused in the lake
The fish tasted the hot spices in the cool lake
“Steady old girl” says Johnny with a smile
“ Soon you will be mine”
Ripples overlap
The fish rod numbs with pain
The fish battles with the rod
Johnny pulls harder
He will not let go
Its weight surpasses that of a stone
The fish hooks himself loose
The ripple disappears
Johnny sits waiting at the end of the lake
Waiting for another to taste his spicy bait
poem by Lee John Siebritz
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Swedish Fish
Green or red, goodnight, remember
Green is best of all the flavours
Go ahead, its only water
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
Hes my secret wish
Talk to me, I need attention
Tell me all of your confessions
Tell me if I cease to mention
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
Hes my pisces gift
Im never coming back
I am too far gone
Wont you be heading this way
Before too long?
Im holding on you
To you
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
Hes my secret wish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
I love my swedish fish
Hes my favourite gift
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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{{{ A Special Fish For Me? }}}
Yes there are many fish out in the sea,
but why can't I find one that will
best suit me,
well, I mean the fish in the sea are free,
yet all I keep doing is coming up is empty,
I start to believe,
then I begin to see, that, well, there just isn't one out there for me.
I go down to the sea, and I just look around,
well, again, there are no fortunate fish to be found!
Everyday I still continue to go down by the sea and sit down on the sand,
I look across the ocean and wonder is there another kind of
land to see,
to be able to relax and not have to act on command?
There is a fish for me,
because this is the way I was told it IS to be,
there has just gotta be that
special fish for me!
poem by Linda I. Weischedel
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Spawning Time
(Translation To: Laichzeit)
He loves his mother
and from the side
he gives the fish to her
it sheds its skin before empty testicles
the old skin falls on the floor
He loves his sister
and from behind
the fish eats to the mouth
the gills still bloody from sucking
on the big red eyes
Spawning time
it is spawning time
He loves his dog
oh god from above
the fish now kisses with his tongue
he spits dead milk in your face
you don't dare to touch him
Spawning time
fishmilk everywhere
it is spawning time
The mother has been taken by the sea
Spawning time
the sisters don't have time
Spawning time
the dog waves from the shore
Spawning time
the fish needs his loneliness
Spawning time
song performed by by Rammstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tanks For The Memories
tank you, tank you, tank you
we told the fish, those wonderful fish
those little tropical fish, that could reboot our dreary days
we could imagine their little fish politics and why one was chased
the tail nippers, the food stealers, the baby filled fish mothers
what wonderful memories I have of the fish tanks of yesterday
and today, now that my child has befriended the fish
relax, techno man, relax
and just rest with the fishes
poem by Louis Marvin
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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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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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Part 4: The fish saves the worm
The big-mouth fish, snatched the worm.
As the worm was afraid; a small piece of him,
was left, on the sharp object.
The fish cuddle him, in his mouth.
Swimming as fast as he can;
to make it, close to the shore.
The fish, spit him out, on the land.
As the worm landed, he look toward the fish.
And said, ' thank you for not eating me? '
I wish you well, the fish said. Take care!
As the worm grind his way, toward a new place.
Knowing this ain't his home, the ground was moist.
He drilled a hole, and discover a new home.
The End....
poem by Derrick Clark
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The fish in me
Iam vegan, but! There is a fish in me.
The selfishness in me starts fuming,
..Every now and then makes me feel like crawl,
I make my world as small as possible,
Am I selfish?
Whenever “this fish” dominates
Its only one letter work “I”, “I” and “I”, I ponder
“This fish” screech
What about me? ? What about me? ?
This fish is whirling in the sea of jealousy,
I wish this sea of jealousy get dried up
And the fish to die in want of water.
poem by Tara Chettur
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We Never Speak
I caught a silver fish
I caught a fish of gold
The first one spoke to me
And so I let it go.
The second told a joke
And I started to laugh
It slipped from my hand
Down into the sea.
Since then I have tried
To learn the language of fish
Of flowers, birds and bears
Sometimes I am they
And they are me
But now we never speak.
poem by Barbara Spring
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Pierre The Penquin
'I have just been swimming to catch my fish. I have 3, I love fish it is absolutely delicious, I don’t want them cooked, I can’t see the sense in that, I will eat them raw one by one and savor every bite. They are cold and slippery to slide down my throat. I will eat my fish first, then I might go for another swim, or I might go for a snooze for a while.'
Who knows?
Pierre the penguin has just been swimming,
to catch his evening meal.
He does not need a boat for this,
or a rod or reel.
He can swim very fast,
and catch his fish quite easily.
Pierre is well equipped for this,
has you all can see.
He has a flipper on each leg,
that makes him very strong.
So, when he goes swimming,
he can stay out there quite long.
The fish are cold and slippery,
to slide down Pierre's throat.
The oil in the fish,
gives Pierre his lovely coat.
After his meal,
he might go for another swim,
or he might go for a snooze.
Which one do you think,
Pierre, should really choose?
poem by Pamela lutwyche
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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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Trinculo [sees Caliban]: What have we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish. He smells like a fish, a very ancient and fish-like smell, a kind of not-of-the-newest poor-john.
line from The Tempest, Act II, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1611)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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