Fisher of men
If god had a fishing rod
And I was a fish in the sea
And He caught me
Would He keep me in His
Heavenly bucket
Or throw me back in
Because I had committed, far too much sin?
I have a feeling that He might say;
“Con, Son, Shh…examine your conscience
For the answer lies within”
poem by Conor O Gara
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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The Fisherman's Boat
I am tied to a pole
In me came and sat a fisherman with a big mole
He had a fishing rod and a net
With a bucket and bait so wet
He untied me and rowed me
Into the deep sea
And with rod, net and bait
He caught fish till late
He went home with a big fish
To prepare and eat a tasty dish
Tomorrow again he’ll come wearing his overcoat
To untie me, his little fishing boat.
poem by Niharika Singh
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Fish Fever
This week end I went fishing
A fish in mind to catch
I went wishing, wishing, wishing
To catch a perfect catch
I wanted to catch the big one
The one that always gets away
I waited under the hot, hot sun
I waited for that fish all day
Then there was a pull on my line
The pull so full of magic
It made me think mine, mine, mine
Me, the fisherwoman classic
This fish was big I could feel
Big and strong, a winners tale
All I had to do was reel, reel, reel
In order not to fail
Me and this fish fought a moment
Tugging and yanking, pulling and reeling
Until I screamed net! Net! NET!
Is this a winners feeling?
In that moment I knew that it was this
The moment I caught the one that got away
I caught it, I caught it, I caught it
Fishing fever is what I caught that day
poem by Cheré Mason
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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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Bucket T
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Found her in a barn in tennessee
I paid five bucks for my bucket t
Took me three years of sweat and blood
To clean off all that tennessee mud
Chorus:
My bucket t (bucket t)
Bucket t (bucket t)
My bucket t (bucket t)
My bucket t (bucket t)
T t t... bucket bucket bucket...
Cruise down the street in front of school
I wanna rev it up but I gotta be cool
Drivin down the road Ill get my kicks
Apoppin the clutch and aslippin the sticks
[chorus]
I was right, too, shes first in her class
Theres nothing on the freeway she dont pass
All the girls want to take a ride with me
But theres only one seat in my bucket t
[chorus]
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last thoughts for 2009
Ice Fishing
Before the fishing someone ought
to give the little fish a thought.
He is our ancestor, without
him we would all be pencilled out.
And sometimes we are fish, in fact
I've caught some judges in the act.
LRH
12.31.09
poem by Linda Hepner
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World’s Fisheries In Deep Crisis
April 2009 stocks
we already knew
world’s fisheries
were in deep crisis
do math shocking
more fishing boats
chase last shrinking
smaller fish stocks
half this world’s
fish caught fishing
we are throwing
back dead or is sales
sold no regard paid
to whether net fish
stock is endangered
or a species bycatch
38 million tonnes
of marine life taken
every year from seas
is not catch intended
target of fishing
vessels numbers
of most popular
species fall rapid
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Fishermans Will
A Fisherman's Will
I have eaten catfish in more ways than one
Fish that is blackened is not over done
Bass done over a grill with butter basting
Fish balls fried are really tasty
I have had days I caught more fish than I could contain
Then there were days I didn't get a bite and it rained
Memories of Dads and trips where we bonded
Caught some that could have been mounted
Romance and fishing don't go together well
Poles and pools on days hotter than hell
I've never make a good fisher of men
But I have found fishing gives me a grin
So when I die I ask you please
Put my body in a river or sea
Let the fish then eat off me,
So I may return the favor, please!
This is my request in my:
Fisherman's Will
Jim 1989
poem by James Casey
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I Loved A Man that Loved to Fish
I loved a man that loved to fish.
He’d go down to the waters and cast his rod like a penny for a wish.
What he thought, whatever what- if he played, I’d love to know
For when he was away fishing his face was a glow.
Wishing away he’d sit all day and night,
Wading his patience against the twilight.
Patience was his tool
He’d tire his fish like the destructive heart of a fool.
With a gentle cast, not too high or low, his shinny fly would lure
Then his fish would run and he’d ignore.
After it was caught he’d throw it back for another man’s game
Or catch it again tomorrow, they were all the same.
I loved a man that loved to fish
And in his shadow I ran waiting to be his wish.
(Bernadette Bridges 9/08)
poem by Bernadette Bridges
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Fishing, Joke On Love
Love is like fishing
It’s a kind of sport, try it and you'll see on what you’re missing
Once caught, it’s all hugs and kissing
And memories of when it happened, reminiscing
When that alarm goes of
And you’ve got one on the hook
There’s nothing that will stop
Or that will help from a book
You just got to lean back and hold onto your net
And hope that you are man enough to hope it don’t get away
Because if you do you will be filled with regret
And on that fishing lake you have to wait and stay
So keep your fish in our grasp
Don’t let it slip out of your clasp
Cause it can happen in a second so fast
So when you get that fish make that experience last
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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But, I Can't Stop Fishing! ! !
But, I can't stop fishing,
I told my new wife.
It's an integral part,
Of all young men's lifes.
But she laid down the law,
It was fishing or her.
Get rid of the tackle,
The rods and the lures.
She wanted no part,
Of those smelly fish.
To tell you the truth,
She was really a...pain.
Well I don't know what happened,
But after a while,
She just let it go,
Like a bright eyed little child.
And I took her fishing,
For the first time in her life.
And she caught more than me,
My wonderful new wife.
It's close to forty years now,
And she never stays home.
She says it's not right,
That I go fishing alone.
12/21/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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The Fish That You Caught With Your Fishing Rod
the fish that you caught with your fishing rod
while you were alone at sea
tastes more delicious than the one that you
bought in the market
you have worked for it
you waited for long to catch it and hold it with your bare hands
you can still feel the vibrations of the nylon string
which caught the mouth of the fish
that now you are cooking and eating
the excitement still resounds inside your tongue
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fishing in the sky
Fishing in the sky
The sun came down to say goodbye
For you don’t need the sun to beam on your shoulders no more
She gives you more than any heat you could ever store
Don’t look back, I was just a heavy hearted sack
Now I’ll get my fishing rod and fish somewhere else
Don’t hold on to my hands, let me get off your back
I thought I had you, but I only ever wish I did
She looks like that missing part of you that you longed for
That missing part of you that I tried to be
She has dry eyes and a fresh smile
She’s the missing piece of your suburban tile
Bury the sand we clasped in our hands
Translate the words we never dared understand
Gather your seeds and say your goodbyes
Pass me the fishing rod, ill fish in the sky
poem by Sara Tehrani
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But I Caught Nine
She slammed the door
I'd heard it before
Every month she is cranky
This is that time
She'll be back
After a cuppa with mum
A wonderful woman
The peacemaker
I'd been fishing
They were biting
So I stayed a bit longer
I guess too long
But Honey I caught nine
You said you'd be home at one
I planned things for us
Now you ruined it
Calm down Honey
The World didn't end
You wouldn't have noticed
Too busy fishing and drinking
When are you going to mow
That jungle out the front
I'm so sick of it
It's fishing or bloody footy
Off she went in a huff
I'd mowed that morning
So I gutted the fish
Watched footy on TV
poem by Phil Smith
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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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Fishing in the Wei River
In waters still as a burnished mirror's face,
In the depths of Wei, carp and grayling swim.
Idly I come with my bamboo fishing-rod
And hang my hook by the banks of Wei stream.
A gentle wind blows on my fishing-gear
Softly shaking my ten feet of line.
Though my body sits waiting for fish to come,
My heart has wandered to the Land of Nothingness.
Long ago a white-headed man
Also fished at the same river's side;
A hooker of men, not a hooker of fish,
At seventy years, he caught Wen Wang.
But I, when I come to cast my hook in the stream,
Have no thought either of fish or men.
Lacking the skill to capture either prey,
I can only bask in the autumn water's light.
When I tire of this, my fishing also stops;
I go to my home and drink my cup of wine.
Say Hallelujah
Say Hallelujah
Throw up your hands
The bucket is kicked
The body is gone
Close your eyes
And bow your head
To rest your soul
And to praise the dead
Say Hallelujah
Throw up your hands
The bucket is kicked
The body is gone
Dry your eyes
And stand upright
Put a smile on your face
He wouldnt want us to cry
The sun will rise
The stars will shine
Turning day to dusk
And night to dawn
Well pass on
But until that time
Say Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Say Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Say Hallelujah
Throw up your hands
The bucket is kicked
The body is gone
Have mercy
Its a wonderful life
Eternal rest for the weary
Mourners party tonight
Say Hallelujah
Throw up your hands
The bucket is kicked
The body is gone
Wave your hands
But dont say goodbye
Were all gonna meet you
On the other side
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are All Anglers Stranglers?
Are all anglers stranglers?
No.. some smash the sentient
beings' heads or
decapitate them.
Some throw them back, the
ego thrill of having caught them
and ripped their throat in
removing the hook is enough.
Are all anglers tanglers?
Are they danglers, caught within
their own lines?
=====================
Fishing is with slaughterhouses, killing trees as
lumbermen... one of the 5 most dangerous occupations.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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The Answer Lies
(graham russell)
Reach into your heart when you are near me
The answer lies at hand
Throw away all your fears of getting nowhere
For all your moves are planned
So dont spend too much time waiting by the door
For you will never see right thru
Just walk right inside and Ill be there
The answer lies there for you
Come, oh wont you come, someone is calling and no one else will do
Wake, from the dream in which you are falling
The answer lies there for you
So dont spend too much time waiting by the door
For you will never see right thru
Just walk right inside and I am sure the answer lies there for you
So dont spend too much time waiting by the door
For you will never see right thru
Just walk right inside and I am sure
The answer lies, the answer lies
The answer lies, there for you
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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