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Fish Tale

Everytime he told the tale,
The fish would grow some more.
He would repeat it without fail,
Till he got to be a boor.

It started as a Blue gill,
At the end it was a whale.
No he could never get his fill,
Of telling his fish tale.

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8/2/10 Alton Texas

poem by Juan Olivarez
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A Whale Of A Poem

Recently,
As stories go,
A tale was told,
About an old man,
And a fish,
He really wasn't a real fish!

He was a whale you know!
Anyways,
It seems that fish shallowed the man,
And inside the fish he did live,
Seven days and seven nights.

Oh what a fright,
That man did go through,
He inside of a fish,
Could have easily ended up his dish.

That story although a whopper,
I thought could not have been top,
Except in the second grade,
A student chimed in,
Oh great, now I know where my dad has been!

poem by Nadalia Bagratuni
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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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FootPrints In The Sand

footprints in the sand
heading that way as it
leads away it leaves a
tale.

a tale of pain a tale of sorrow
a tale of hurt a tale to be told
whispir in my ear a tale of a
new generation
a generation of determination
where love is an everyday thing
and not as rare as a blue moon

so foot prints in the sand
your tale was heard as it hit
the nation pure like solid gold
so though your mist wash away
your tale live on till today

poem by Robert Roberts
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A tale i was told

Right as i was told their handwriting were'nt bold
so; our forefathers were sold
that their conscience they had sold
but to me; a fairy tale better not told

i was young
and the music seem dingdong
to me at dawn,
the story seem sown
not till i was told
it was a fairy tale better not told.

Unaware in the market; they haggle
to them, the reward a cry
and they saw no battle
but on this path, i dare not ply
To me; a fairy tale better not told.

What seem a tale
to me a dog without tail
on our fall i was
when the tale went on without a pause
to me a fairy better not told.

poem by Atimiwoaye Adetunji dayo
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Whale of a Tale

Hail bishop with memory frail
wound up when night's sup d[r]owned pale ale,
in Tooting Bec Garden
sin rooting wreck, hard-on,
but confessions too catholic fail.

Head made headlines, unfortunate tale,
he could make neither heads or tails, bail
may be sought for the sot
got his lot, potty plot
grows thicker, and sicker, all quail.

For at least from his priests rose gale wail
on the whale of the tale, they'd prevail
on the bish with boys' toys
who should fish for souls' buoys,
for repentance for leaving gael trail.

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Number Eight Hook

This little fish hook, is a number eight,
Tiny as it is I will attest.
It's put many fish on my dinner plate,
For catching perch it is the best.
I wouldn't exchange it for all the rest.

With a piece of night crawler, wiggling around,
This tiny hook is my weapon of choice.
The fish are ecstatic, at what they have found,
And all of a sudden, they just loose their poise.
The silent assassin strikes without noise.

Little red number eight, I depend upon,
To get me fish, with constant ease.
My secret weapon when all else goes wrong,
For a wonderful supper, or catch and release.
Little red number eight, knows just how to please.

9/5/10 Alton Texas

poem by Juan Olivarez
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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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Burrs In My Pants

Burrs in my pants,
Thorns in my shoes.
Fishing this lake,
Just gives me the blues.

The fish are not biting,
And thats a fact.
Maybe it's time,
I headed back.

All that I got,
From my fishing trip.
Were burrs in my pants,
And sunburned lips.

I guess this fishing trip,
Was meant to fail.
When the burrs started sticking,
To my tail.

10/10/10 Alton Texas

poem by Juan Olivarez
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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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Ogdenashical to amuse

I am a duck billed platypus
I very seldom make a fuss.
Though you will find if you tread on me
I can react most peevishly
Because you’ve made me furious.

Wallace Wart hog was not willing
unless he got the top billing.
Although he thought he was the best
he was much worse than all the rest
and never earned a single shilling.

Adalbert the alligator
had a sister but he ate her
Which was not the thing to do
but Adalbert had downed a few
He was chastised by his pater.

Anthony the armadillo
was a very funny fellow.
his only hobby telling jokes
which were not funny to most folks
and they rudely told him so

A donkey mated with a horse
accidentally of course.
The stallion was a love lorn fool
Mixing breeds made me a mule
To be an ass would be much worse.

Fish can swim and birds can fly.
Although I sometimes wonder.
Flying fish can leave the sea
take to the air quite easily.
Fish are not supposed to fly

Chimpanzees live in the trees
which they navigate with ease.
Searching for their favourite food
In a way no human could.
Sadly they can be very crude.

The killer whale is bound to fail
although he tries to no avail
but he continues stubbornly
he is convinced that one day he
will be a banjo playing whale.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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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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031210 A Set And A Round

i meet this guy today
for so many years
we used to fish the bay
we drape the sea with nets
caught from flounder to snake
night time when all were asleep

he is visiting from florida
to take care his grands in area
i was surprise he hadn't age bit
i was told fishing is the secret
oh! would i have to buy gill net
to trap those fish as they fled

what will i do with fish, give away
yes, just what we do previously
i have done my fishing journeys
i shifted to playing golf and tennis
few dollars i could buy few pounds
and i could play a set and a round

poem by Manonton Dalan
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Lipstick On Your Collar

When you left me all alone at the record hop
Told me you were goin out for a soda pop
You were gone for quite a while -- half-an-hour more
You came back and man, oh, man, this is what I saw:
Lipstick on your collar told a tale on you
Lipstick on your collar said you were untrue
Bet your bottom dollar you and I are through
cause lipstick on your collar told a tale on you! yeah!
You said it belonged to me, made me stop and think
And then I noticed yours was red; mine was baby pink
Who walked in but mary jane, lipstick all a mess?
Were you smoochin my best friend? guess the answers yes
Lipstick on your collar told a tale on you
Lipstick on your collar said you were untrue
Bet your bottom dollar you and I are through
cause lipstick on your collar told a tale on you! boy!
Told a tale on you! man!
Told a tale on you! yeah! (fade)

song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remembering A Friend Through The Fish

we keep when we were children
our treasures in a form of a fish
inside our own little secret ponds
we never intend to share them at first
we fear the adults who steal
we dislike them minding us
telling us that fish is not interesting at all
that the pond is just a very small world
where our minds are convoluted
like intestines of a fish

do you remember the flood
of adult water spreading rising higher than our knees?
it was very sad
all the fish we kept were taken away by the indifference
of the majority
we give up
we went to other places
and then we became too lonely
they want us to hate the fish
to be like them

and so here we are still keeping the fish
in anger.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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A Spiked Balloon

A Puffer fish was in a cross huff,
he had suddenly run out of puff.
‘How can I keep my system alive,
when danger to me, might well arrive‘.

He met up with an electric Eel,
who said, ‘I do know just how you feel,
t’was shocking, when I lost my power,
all I could do was hide and cower‘.

An Octopus with tentacles long,
said, ’now come on, tell me what is wrong’,
And after he’d heard the sorry tale,
he had a word with his friend the Whale.

‘We’ve decided it’s a rest you need,
your life’s been lived at tremendous speed.
you must slow down and take things easy,
you’ll most likely be feeling queasy‘.

‘Take a week off and find somewhere nice,
your puff will reappear in a trice.
you’ve blown yourself and you require rest,
listen to us, we know what is best‘.

So, for a whole seven lazy days,
the Puffer fish, not one fin did raise.
He recouped his strength, and very soon,
his body became a spiked balloon.

He thanked Octopus, who left propelled,
also Whale, who he thought had excelled.
And though not now scared to face his foes,
Eel follows close, wherever he goes.

JUST IN CASE.! ! ! !

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Fish Again on Friday

Fish again on Friday how predictable is that
It’s getting to the stage I’d rather eat my hat
Gotta grin and bear it, have no other choice
I’ve tried to have my say, but I’m afraid I’ve lost my voice
Yeah you can’t have your pudding if you don’t eat your meat
So the teacher says and I shuffle on my feet
Gotta grin and bear it, it’s just the way it goes
But I can feel resistance and it’s good to feel it grow
I don’t know all the saints, not personally anyway
Jesus now Mohamed and my hair is turning grey
Now there’ll come a fatwa because of what I say
So many rules I just wanna walk away
Well its fish again on Friday but I’ll suppress my grin
I’ve sort of learned to face it and take it on the chin
But fish again on Friday, I’ve just about had my fill
Fish again on Friday, I’ve had it to the gills
Fish again on Friday. Who invented that?
Fish again on Friday I’m gonna eat my hat

poem by Kris Whelan
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