En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Big Sky Fishing

Fishing in the big sky state
On the Clarks Fork River miles away
Standing on a slab of slate
Enjoying a warm, sunny day

Surrounded by the wilderness
Mountains in every direction
Bears awake from the winters rest
I felt no need for protection

As I cast, I spot a golden eagle
What an amazing sight to see
Mighty wings barely in motion
Flying so majestically

I gaze into the gaping sky
It appears to have no end
Beautiful peaks reach so high
I wish the day would never end

The rushing water is crystal clear
I see hungry fish far and near
Waiting for some food to snatch
One would make a satisfying catch

The sounds of Clarks Fork are like no other.
The raging water crashing on the rocks below
A bear cub whining for his mother
And the unbelievable call of an eagle so mellow

I have lasting memories of that incredible day
I can’t wait until I can return
So beautiful there is too much to say
A place in which more people should learn

poem by Mathew Najmowicz
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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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Eagle night

Eagle night and seen by sea
A distant call, in sonnet key
In any moment, place or time
A distant call is sent from high
Eagle night, i swear I’ve sawn
Eagle flight with salty winds
By the pinnacle of water and land
Where sea winds crash and struggle the sand
Call again, from a place that’s near
Always close, so one can hear
Or so can be thought the truth of such things
Resonate from eagle wings
Never foreboding the loss of a call
Never shorn for a sighting once more
The discontent of the mind is evaded
And all the wanting of life unladen
The call, one call, one sight, any wind
Reminds the heart of the sweetest thing
Deep remnants of a time unkempt
And narrowing from this lively nest
Illusioned by dreams of taste and touch
But grasped in song by night eagle clutch

poem by Julia Grandi
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Beautiful River

And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1

Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?

CHORUS.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

Soon we'll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace. Cho.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Side The Riverbreak

Standing 'side the riverbreak,
watching water move like lightening,
flowing fast, white, narrow brook,
'tween the legs of the Douglas trees.
And these streams have curves so crooked,
subluxed....in serpentine,
'til they merge...become one river, and then -
it spirals to the riverbreak.....,
kissing the fork, seperating the surge.

And, there be majic, in the riverbreak;
its' speed and strength dictates the flow,
of white-capped ripple o'er deep-blue current.....,
where the principals copulate.

Stimulating....the force of the riverbreak;
no virgin surf, this channel, be;
must be the sight of the rapids front.....,
that excites, compels the serfeit fawning.

Ahhh, the rush of the riverbreak,
with the rage and softness of a woman,
spreading her majesty,
coursing, delivering,
'into the rise of the riverbreak;
the fork, its' presence, not be moved...
spreading the river,
like eagle's wings, or two young limbs,
thrusting, flowing.....fertilely,
against the fork, they call.... the riverbreak.
And, the climax be.....the confluence;
and the confluence....be unequivocal;
unequivocal...this liquid rush;
then silence...Sssssh... of quelling waters...
resume their course side the riverbreak
two streams quiet 'til they meet again.

poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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The Eagle and The Bear

The eagle's strength to compare that
of the bear this is how they fair the bear
can rip apart anything standing there
yet the eagle can fly through the air
the mighty physical strength of the bear must
stay on the ground in a limited area
around yet the eagle's strength of us do share
it's in every heart and on something's we wear
it shows the strength of the eagle for all to share
the eagle and the bear.

poem by David J. Pipkin
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Be a part of me

as the fish swims into the sea and find its way to
feed and happy, the water Lilies breathe in the dirty
pond to grow into a beautiful flower, of where the
bird wants to sip its sweet drops of crystal water
gland

as the wind blew, thrown into the big ocean and the
clouds swings beneath the golden sun; the wave
roll on to the dazzling seashore, waiting each
pebbles to dance in the sand; rumble, sizzling,
goggling under the hot sunny day

as the perfume smell in every corner of your
body, the door that open makes my day complete,
the food that taste so sweet leaves every memories
of who you would be in the heart that is free, your
the passion that hovers in my knee, you’re the star in
every night in the sky I see, for everything my dear
you believe in me, you’re the one I always die with
thee

now the roses have fully grown in the garden its
residue and the flower bloom so beautiful, as you
can touch and smell as you catch, believe that I am
always in the end waiting for you in every command
I remain so true, wonder you bring me through, as I
love you, for you’re always be part of me in
everything I will be, my true and dear
WIFE......I love you

poem by Antonio Liao
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Wings for sale

I walk in the aisle of the corridor and gaze at the seashore,
where I used to stay in the early morning of my house, the
night comes dazzling with the sun, as the clouds rushing
molding with the early bird flapping there wings in the sunny
mode of the dawning light mingling of the cooled breeze of
the monsoon wind

the hushing blow of wave, sprouted like a rainbow in the
showering sky, so deeply in touch of the sands in the naked
stones beneath the sloping cliff in the high dunes of sand, a
distance view in my beautiful nipa hut near the pavement
slope in the golden glow of light of the morning sun

as the moving water gallop the ocean current, the ocean floor
with its strength mumble in the rushing stones, forcing to
clap the water blown in the sand as its stand, sunk as it sang
the beautiful tunes as it sprang and the water bubble like a fish
slowly moving to reach the sudden rod of the fisherman hands

like wind that passes, swiftly in our faces, like sunlight touches
our braces, our dreams closes our passage to live what we
believe, always stop when we are there, all the way it
embraces of what it should be, for everything is not yet the
final day

sale and sail always your way for in every corner the angels
stay with thee, don't stop until you find the right way for in the
end you can buy a wings like angel who always see the
beautiful day, and your heart will always stay the precious
wings of angel that fly with thee

poem by Antonio Liao
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Beautiful Aberfoyle

The mountains and glens of Aberfoyle are beautiful to sight,
Likewise the rivers and lakes are sparkling and bright;
And its woods were frequented by the Lady of the Lake,
And on its Lakes many a sail in her boat she did take.

The scenery there will fill the tourist with joy,
Because 'tis there once lived the bold Rob Roy,
Who spent many happy days with his Helen there,
By chasing the deer in the woods so fair.

The little vale of Aberfoyle and its beautiful river
Is a sight, once seen, forget it you'll never;
And romantic ranges of rock on either side
Form a magnificent background far and wide.

And the numerous lochs there abound with trout
Which can be had for the taking out,
Especially from the Lochs Chon and Ard,
There the angler can make a catch which will his toil reward.

And between the two lochs the Glasgow Water Works are near,
Which convey water of Loch Katrine in copious streams clear
To the inhabitants of the Great Metropolis of the West,
And for such pure water they should think themselves blest.

The oak and birch woods there are beautiful to view,
Also the Ochil hills which are blue in hue,
Likewise the Lake of Menteith can be seen far eastward,
Also Stirling Castle, which long ago the English beseiged very hard.

Then away to Aberfoyle, Rob Roy's country,
And gaze on the magnificent scenery.
A region of rivers and mountains towering majestically
Which is lovely and fascinating to see.

But no words can describe the beautiful scenery.
Aberfoyle must be visited in order to see,
So that the mind may apprehend its beauties around,
Which will charm the hearts of the visitors I'll be bound.

As for the clachan of aberfoyle, little remains but a hotel,
Which for accomodation which will suit the traveller very well.
And the bedding thereis clean and good,
And good cooks there to cook the food.

Then away to the mountains and lakes of bonnie Aberfoyle,
Ye hard-working sons and daughters of daily toil;
And traverse its heathery mountains and viewits lakes so clear,
When the face of Nature's green in the spring of the year.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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A Beautiful Song

A Beautiful Song. (Ink Spots)

“I don’t want to set the world on fire” what a lovely song.
But I’m disturbed by sparrows, sit in my orange tree and
make a racket, so much for bird song. Out on the terrace
I stretch out my arms pretend to be an eagle, they fly off.
But they soon return realising I’m not much of an eagle.
I throw pebbles at them, terrified miniature mountains,
that only get to fly when someone, say, me throws them.
I still hear the sparrows sit in my neighbour’s orange tree,
argue about territories and no- fly- zones. A flurry of angry
wings, what is this a civil war? High above on the blue sky,
a bald eagle circles. “I don’t want to set the world on fire.”

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Eagle Fly Free

People are in big confusion
They dont like their constitutions
Everyday they draw conclusions
And theyre still prepared for war
Some can say whats ineffective
Some make up themselves attractive
Build up things they call protective
Well your life seems quite bizarre
Bridge: in the sky a mighty eagle
Doesnt care bout whats illegal
On its wings the rainbows light
Its flying to eternity
Chorus: eagle fly free
Let people see
Just make it your own way
Leave time behind
Follow the sign
Together well fly someday
Hey, we think so supersonic
And we make our bombs atomic
Or the better quite neutronic
But the poor dont see a dime
Nowadays the airs polluted
Ancient people persecuted
Thats what mankind contributed
To create a better time
Bridge: in the sky a mighty eagle
Doesnt care bout whats illegal
On its wings the rainbows light
Its flying to eternity
Chorus: eagle fly free
Let people see
Just make it your own way
Leave time behind
Follow the sign
Together well fly someday

song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Even leaves beg me'' says Eagle

eagle, niggard and black
perched on sycomore on Nile bank
tasty fish gambolled in water
at lightening speed eagle caught
tasty fish and scrambled out

eagle flew and perched on a tree
man was under a tree
and glanced at what sat on tree
eagle and man eyes met at ninety angle
eagle flew away saying
''man may conjure him
by evil eyes''

eagle flew and perched on second tree
some birds were on that tree
Eagle and others birds eyes met at ninety angle
eagle flew away saying he
'' choke as birds watch him eating''

Eagle flew and perched on third tree
the breeze shook leaves of tree
eagle saw leaves unfolded shaking
like a begging hand
eagle flew away saying
'' everything beg me , even leaves
beg me too''

Eagle flew and perched on fourth withered tree
no birds, men and leaves around there
only exrtreme silence around there
eagle ate tasty fish
sang in loudest resounding voice
''eel fish and tasty fish are not the same
I ate tasyty fish until heart palpitated in happiness''

poem by David Aoloch Bion
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My First Fishing Trip

Went with dad to Port Isabel to learn to fish,
‘Cause to catch a fish I told him that I did wish.
So to Purdy’s Court fishing pier,
We went with all our fishing-gear.
Yes, that fishing trip with dad I’ll always cherish!

There we were, him giving me casting instruction,
Then he baited my hook with a live crustacean,
I cast out high in the sky.
To catch a big fish to fry,
But instead, caught a sea gull - as consolation!

poem by Bobby Beddoe
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The Amazing Kinsale

If you want to do some traveling
Ireland is the place to go
Seeped in ancient history
You’ll be fascinated with it so

Kinsale will make you welcome
Anything you’d want to do is there
Whether yachting, fishing or golf
Or a delicious gourmet fare

Nestled between hills and shore
Such a beautiful place to go
While standing on the reaching cliffs
There’s an amazing scene below

And oh, the Waterford crystal
You know, this is where it’s made
Clear back in 1873 it began
Though the arts had been delayed

Secret minerals make a special tone
No other crystal sounds the same
Its beauty is of the finest quality
It has gained tremendous fame

So as you can see, folks
To celebrate St. Patrick’s Day
Ireland is where you need to visit
Go to Kinsale without delay!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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The Name Of The Game/eagle

Ive seen you twice, in a short time
Only a week since we started
It seems to me, for every time
Im getting more open-hearted
I was an impossible case
No-one ever could reach me
But I think I can see in your face
Theres a lot you can teach me
So I wanna know..
Whats the name of the game?
Does it mean anything to you?
Whats the name of the game?
Can you feel it the way I do?
Tell me please, cause I have to know
Im a bashful child, beginning to grow
And you make me talk
And you make me feel
And you make me show
What Im trying to conceal
If I trust in you, would you let me down?
Would you laugh at me, if I said I care for you?
Could you feel the same way too?
I wanna know..
The name of the game
I have no friends, no-one to see
And I am never invited
Now I am here, talking to you
No wonder I get excited
Your smile, and the sound of your voice
And the way you see through me
Got a feeling, you give me no choice
But it means a lot to me
So I wanna know..
Whats the name of the game? (your smile and the sound of your voice)
Does it mean anything to you? (got a feeling you give me no choice)
(but it means a lot)
Whats the name of the game? (your smile and the sound of your voice)
Can you feel it the way I do?
Tell me please, cause I have to know
Im a bashful child, beginning to grow
And you make me talk
And you make me feel
And you make me show
What Im trying to conceal
If I trust in you, would you let me down?
Would you laugh at me, if I said I care for you?
Could you feel the same way too?
I wanna know..
Oh yes I wanna know..
The name of the game (I was an impossible case)
Does it mean anything to you? (but I think I can see in your face)
(that it means a lot)
Whats the name of the game? (your smile and the sound of your voice)
Can you feel it the way I do? (got a feeling you give me no choice)
(but it means a lot)
Whats the name of the game? (I was an impossible case)
Does it mean anything to you? (but I think I can see in your face)
(that it means a lot)
(fade)
/
They came flying from far away, now Im under their spell
I love hearing the stories that they tell
Theyve seen places beyond my land and theyve found new horizons
They speak strangely but I understand
And I dream Im an eagle
And I dream I can spread my wings
Flying high, high, Im a bird in the sky
Im an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please
As all good friends we talk all night, and we fly wing to wing
I have questions and they know everything
Theres no limit to what I feel, we climb higher and higher
Am I dreaming or is it all real?
Is it true Im an eagle?
Is it true I can spread my wings?
Flying high, high, Im a bird in the sky
(Im an eagle)
Im an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(what a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please
And I dream Im an eagle
And I dream I can spread my wings
Flying high, high, Im a bird in the sky
(Im an eagle)
Im an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(what a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
Flying high, high, Im a bird in the sky
(Im an eagle)
Im an eagle that rides on the breeze
High, high, what a feeling to fly
(what a feeling)
Over mountains and forests and seas
And to go anywhere that I please

song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Creek

The place where crystal-clear water pulses
through the lush veins of the riverbed
where the moonlit fish flop
gracefully out of the shimmering water,
A true sanctuary of peace
where the soft humming of water
fills you ears with a harmonic rhyme,
Frenzied insects buzz around mindlessly
over the hypnotic mist of the water,
A place of serenity, gingerly expecting
the ever-changing seasons as they flow by slowly,
Children giggling happily as they wade with the curious, nibbling fish
Jade green leaves falling generously into the
embracing water below,
Red-tailed beauties gently hovering under the rushing surface
of their underwater kingdom,
Sweet daisies grazing the edge of the river,
giving off their intoxicating aroma
My most cherished place where I can relax with the river,
and spend endless hours chatting with the fish

poem by Katherine Lyczek
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Fish with no tail

as i gaze out of nature... i have seen a fish without a tail
impossible but its true, first things came up to my mind
is, ask whether its worth to give time to remember all
the scene or perhaps, just a memories of a simple
goodbye

as the fish swim, deep beneath the crystal blue water, i
couldn't remember the minutes, the hours past, nay i felt
that i haven't taken my meal, it seems all are just a blink
of a second in my eyes

it keeps on bubbling, even in a thousands seconds it
stay in the water, until i notice that the fish fail to surface
beneath the running water, for the absence of the tail
the body is nothing

all is just a mirror of a fish that, every movement of the
body, the twist of the tail has to follow, its a paradox to
believe that we see the tail of other fish, nay never we
saw that we don't have tail of our own

like the fish it swim, with no direction, only an inspiration
that we can do, yet as it goes there we go, tail that swim
in the water stream with no affection of what to do

now i see, how to swim, in water, lou! where i may go...in
the world of stream when everybody is frame......

poem by Antonio Liao
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Cool Water

Words and music by bob nolan
Revised lyrics by joni mitchell
All day I face the barren waste
Without a taste of water
Cool water
Old dan and i
Our throats slate dry
Our spirits cry out for water
Cool clear water
Keep on movin dan
Some devils had a plan
Buried poison in the sand
Dont drink it man
Its in the water
Cool clear water
In my mind I see
A big green tree
And a river flowin free
Waitin up ahead
For you and me
Cool clear water
The nights are cool and Im a fool
Each star is a pool of water
Cool water
But come the dawn
We carry on
We wont last long without water
Cool clear water
Keep on movin dan
Were still in no-mans land
Dry bones and sand
People never planned here for water
Cool clear water
In my mind I see
A big green tree
And a river flowin free
Waiting up ahead for you and me
Cool clear water
The shadows sway
They seem to say
Tonight we pray for water
Cool water
And way up there
If you care
Please show us where
Theres good water
Cool clear water

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Eagle.

An Eagle Stands on the top of cliff,
Waiting for a way West Wind,
It stands so long in waiting,
Just for the wind to come.

The right wind comes,
This eagle feels so lonely to start flying,
It is ready to fly six thousand miles away,
How a long and lonely journey to go?

Suddenly it wants to give up a great dream.
How a great eagle will struggle on its way?
Why it did not do it earlier and younger?
The right wind passes vainly with no use.

The pitiful eagle is growing older and older.
What will be the next great job for this eagle?
Oh poor eagle, take it easy don’t look up so high.
You are not the new hero at nowadays.

Suddenly a way west wind blows pass,
that only brings you a loneliness.

poem by Albert Wong
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Beautiful Place

This world is beautiful place
this beautiful place with lass
with her sunset
beautiful
when her sun raises
it's beautiful
and moon in a light move
is beautiful
through out of her night
is beautiful
the gleaming of her stars
and morning shines
is beautiful
her mood
as the waves of her ocean
the blooming of her sight
her oldness of her blessing saint
and breezes of her beaches
her mountains and her meadows
teaching for us her love

the beauty of her fall and her fame
the differnce of her four seasons
the pouring water of rains
as roaring her mount river
or floating hovering fog of her face
the beautiful secret sigh
and ease of her drizzle shower
all her flagrancy; her fun
different faces
and different voices
of her..
so the beautiful place for lass
is beautiful place for love.

poem by Sallam Yassin
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You and I

They say the eagle is a bird
That sees some splendid sights
When he soars high into the sky
Upon his dizzy flights:
He sees the ground for miles around
Our house, and Billy Johnson's;
But we can not be Eagles, for
That would, of course, be nonsense.

But you and I, some summer day,
Providing we're allowed,
Will go up in an aeroplane
And sail right through a cloud.
But, if they say we may not go,
We'll stay upon the ground
With other things that have no wings,
And watch them walk around.

They say the bottom of the sea
Is beautiful to view;
They say the fish, whene'er they wish,
Can sail and see 'it, too,.
The shining pearls, the coral curls,
The sharks, the squids, the schnappers,
And fish with fins (though not in tins)
And fish with funny flappers.

But you and I, some sunny day,
When weather's in condition,
Will go there in a submarine,
Providing we've permission.
But if they say we may not go
We must respect their wishes;
And you and I will just keep dry
Because we are not fishes.

They say to fly so very high
Is not exactly pleasant.
They say to go deep down below
Is not quite safe at present.
But you and I don't care for that,
And, if there's time for spending,
When work is done, we'll have our fun
By simply just pretending.

The earth is quite a jolly place,
And we don't care for flying;
And things that creep down in the deep
Are sometimes rather trying.
So, if they'll grant a holiday
Or even only half,
We'll lie upon some grassy place,
And think of things, and laugh.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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