An Old Fisher In The Green
A man, this man, alone in the green,
a little, tiny sand, a speck in the sea.
He used to be a torrent, a veritable blizzard,
ready to weather the storms, this strong fisher.
Then these little fish, to him flocked,
and his heart gave in, collapsed in him, and gave him quite a start.
He took the fish and laid it out, gave it his breath,
and as it looked, its eyes glowed hot, and took from him the rest.
Then it became a fisherman, but one that knew its gift,
it indeed was a fisherman who helped its once-known kin,
what a wondrous man this fish did make, reveling in this skin,
it indeed was a better fisherman who helped its once-known kin.
And so this old fisherman, living on his last breath,
lived only to help the fish he helped, until his last, his death.
His last was given to a fish he deemed demure, a wriggling sickly thing,
he gave it his last, he did, he did, though it remained a fish.
He gave his all, he did, he did, till this fish became enlarged,
yet still not a man did it make, but instead became in charge,
a shark it made, it did, it did, and it hounded out,
till once again, it did, it hid, became the rounder out.
The fishermen were thrown on their guards, this shark was so enlarged,
till all was dust upon the sea, and the old man was set free.
The vision just though may it be,
became but dust upon the sea
till all was dust to dust upon the sea,
and the old man, weak, was at last set free.
poem by Kevin Maroney
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Related quotes
Marc Greets Things in the Morning
Hi boy with the bike on the vase on the bloom
ploom ploom
hi chair by the table
hi bread on the table
hi fisher-of-fish with the pipe
and
hi fisher-of -fish with cap
cap and pipe
of the fisher-of-fish
H i i i —i fish
hi little fish
hi tiny fishy-fine of mine
poem by Paul van Ostaijen
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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.
Truth Works
'When the truth works its way
through the net of illusion
and plunges back into the sea, '
says the fish to the fisher,
'the freedom it experiences
then is far greater than
that it experienced
before it was caught.'
'So you are the truth? '
says the fisher to the fish,
checking his net for a tear
the fish might work through.
'I am the truth, and you are, too, '
says the fish, jumping up
out of the net, 'and so are
the net and the sea.' Splash!
poem by Dick Holmes
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That Part Of A Whole
it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters
you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dreams to Nightmares
I stare at the wall and close my eyes
I started to dream about parts of the world
Beaches to oceans to schools of fish
My dreams turn to nightmares after awhile
The cool, damp beach where sand comes to rest
The emptiness in the pastel blue sky
The sand placed perfectly in place
The smell of salt water against the shore
The crystal clear ocean calm as can be
The current not even moving sea life
Fish eating at the bottom by the sand
The sound of calm waves hitting the shore
The colorful fish ranging from green to blue
Fish from all different sizes
The sound of fish jumping out of the ocean
They swim without a government to follow
The beaches turn to cemeteries
The oceans turn dark gray, and fish floating dead
The sky black as can be with flashes of light
You wake up realizing life is so much different
poem by Kasondra Sytnik
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Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self.
quote by George Eliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A kingfisher and a tiny scalloped fish
'Hey! My buddy what's your name please? ' kingfisher questioned from a leafless tree top.
'My name is small king in the muddy pond.' tiny fish replied humbly.
'Oh! Then we are in the same genius family it seems and let's fly together to see our kind neglected relatives abroad.' The scallywag kingfisher requested politely.
Tiny fish sings in the flight; 'Oh! What an amazing sunrise in the broken sky when the depressive election drew nearer.'
* Tiny fish grumbles to publish this in the site as a dedication for the Labor day.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Enumerations...
not those flowers,
never those summers,
not those rivers, not the sea,
never the ocean
neither the continents nor
the islands
neither the clouds nor the
skies neither the space
nor the galaxies
the grain of sand, a leaf,
adrift,
a pond, and the old frog,
never the storms or the
winds,
neither the alligators nor
the hammers
it is the stone, a butterfly,
a speck of
dust....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In England, David and I are big fish in a small pond. But in L.A., we are tiny, tiny, tiny fish in a big pond.
quote by Victoria Beckham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish On The Sand
I know youre in the sun
I know youre close to evryone
At times its like you dont have a hold on me
I see you in the love
I see you in the moon above
But I want to know that youre not lost inside of me
You know I need you
You know I love you
If Im not with you
Im not so much of a man
Im like a fish on the sand
You call me in the night (you call me in the night)
And hide behind the daylight
Youre blowing like a wind, you dont let me see
You know I feel a pain (you know I feel a pain)
Im tired of playing games with you
Though theres nothing else I want that would set me free
You know I love you
You know I need you
If I cant be with you
Im not so much of a man
Im a fish on the sand
No use to no one else, theyve all dried up
Watching all our lives go by
I cant believe youd want to see me crying
I hold you in my heart (hold you in my heart)
I know that youre a part of me
But its a must to know that you love me too
I look you in the eye (look you in the eye)
Youre swimming by my teardrops
But I want to know for sure that youll let me see
You know I want you
You know I need you
If Im not with you
Im not so much of a man
Im like a fish on the sand
You know I need you
You know I love you
If Im not with you
Im not so much of a man
Im a fish on the sand
Not so much of a man
More a fish on the sand
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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In New England In the Summer
On the seawall walking,
As the seagulls squawk.
I'm tossing rocks in the water,
But the birds think its fish that I feed!
On the sand I see a crab,
Digging deeper with its pinchers...
Moving tiny bits of pebbles,
As the sunset falls with a breeze.
Cape Cod invites these scenes,
In New England in the Summer.
It's not odd but quite easy...
To spot two strolling lovers!
On the seawall walking,
As the seagulls squawk.
I'm tossing rocks in the water,
But the birds think its fish that I feed!
On the sand I see a crab,
Digging deeper with its pinchers...
Moving tiny bits of pebbles,
As the sunset falls with a breeze.
Cape Cod invites these scenes,
In New England in the Summer.
It's not odd but quite easy...
To spot two strolling lovers!
In New England in the Summer.
Loving up like nothing other.
This kind of weather to discover!
Release, relax and just recover.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Speck Like Me
I’m often perplex that the same God who made the heavens and the earth took time to make a speck like me.
Why would the same God who put water in the lakes, oceans and seas; want to create a speck like me?
For I can’t fly
like His birds. Neither can I shine like his sun. But low and behold He is still proud of a speck like me.
Now, in this world there are those who seem to believe that they are bigger than life, but they too are only a speck like me.
The Old Dead Tree
The old dead tree stood
gnarled weather torn;
its limbs were now brittle.
What stories could it tell
of the centuries it had lived,
the passing lives it had seen,
and the storms it had weathered
when it was young and strong.
When its foliage was green
and gave shelter from the rain.
Now it stands bare and broken,
a sorry sight to be seen.
It must have been beautiful
when it was young
with its canopy of green,
and a nesting place for little birds
among its evergreen.
Now they only used it
as a resting place whenever they pass by.
The old dead tree,
which had seen so much life.
17 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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My Fisher Lass
I stood beside the Summer sea
And watched far out my Fisher Lass
Row swiftly in her boat to me,
And the sea shone like a glass.
She waved her strong, brown hand to me,
The boat flew swiftly in from sea,
The osprey laughed in wild, wild glee
To see her row so swift to me.
Laugh, laugh, sea-birds and glad, glad sea,
My soul laughs too in mad, mad glee;
I catch her in my waiting arms
And lose my fears of wrecks and storms;
I brush the sea-damp locks aside
And kiss the mouth she tries to hide.
I stand beside a Winter sea,
A storm-wrecked boat lies on the shore;
The sea moans sad an elegy,
For my lass rows in no more.
No more across the Summer sea
My Fisher Lass rows into me;
I wait each day upon the shore -
They say that she will come no more.
Moan, moan aloud, thou Winter sea,
My Fisher Lass is lost to me!
The ships ride in, the ships ride out,
I hear their sailors' mournful shout.
Some day, I know, across the sea
My Fisher Lass will row to me.
poem by James Edwin Campbell
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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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A Speck Of A Speck Am I!
a speck of a speck am i!
&
a speck of a speck am i
underneath this vast dome of sky-
no millionth of a second
without changes around me;
activities incessant, both silent and noisy-
every moment new, every moment fresh;
to one who has searching senses
and penetrating vision
no end to wonder, no way to boredom-
the clouds speak in silence
the blue hugs you close
the green kisses the cheeks
the flowers communicate in colours-
endless arrays of universes
shout at their high-pitched silences
crying for our ears and attention
through mind-boggling distances-
o man, be alert and tune yourself
to the unheard voices
and keep your spirit ever in joy!
&
chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Unified
It could be so nice but the world is not ready, yeah
It could be so nice but the world is not ready yo
Weather youre a black man
Or youre a white man
Or your from england or from japan
Or youre from chili or youre and american
Youre from the middle east or youre and african
Well it could be so nice but the world is not ready, yeah
It could be so nice but the world is not ready yo
Now come on everyone on this place come together
Wouldnt it be nice if we could all live together forever
Finding our peach in unity
Destroying the noting of foolish vanities
Pull to rise
Lift the blinds
The funky dope is here in 1999
And were praising so were raising out of this oblivion
And on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on
You cant stop this with your mind tricks
Like neo in the matrix Im chosen
Uplift with the gift
Like gandolf the wizard
I conjure a blizzard of magic to ride it high
Unified unified unified
Unified unified unified
It could be so nice but the world is not ready, yeah
It could be so nice but the world is not ready yo
They dont want it in their government
They dont want it with their politricks
They dont want it with their brainwash
They dont want it with their money fix
Unified unified unified
Unified unified unified
I want it want it want it want it
It could be so nice but the world is not ready, yeah
It could be so nice but the world is not ready yo
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joy And Sorrow
As a fisher-boy I fared
To the black rock in the sea,
And, while false gifts I prepared.
Listen'd and sang merrily,
Down descended the decoy,
Soon a fish attack'd the bait;
One exultant shout of joy,--
And the fish was captured straight.
Ah! on shore, and to the wood
Past the cliffs, o'er stock and stone,
One foot's traces I pursued,
And the maiden was alone.
Lips were silent, eyes downcast
As a clasp-knife snaps the bait,
With her snare she seized me fast,
And the boy was captured straight.
Heav'n knows who's the happy swain
That she rambles with anew!
I must dare the sea again,
Spite of wind and weather too.
When the great and little fish
Wail and flounder in my net,
Straight returns my eager wish
In her arms to revel yet!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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