From the bay at Nawa
From the bay at Nawa,
Gazing back upon
The offshore islands
The boats around them
Seem to be fishing
poem by Yamabe no Akahito
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Fishing boats
In the late afternoon
fishing boats come out of the waves
and like ministers
tiller men stand behind white pulpits.
Boats jump
over the last waves to the quay
and are drawn with cables
onto trailers,
before pickups and cars
drive into the parking lot
pulling motorboats.
There are red roman, snook
and cod
and fresh fish are everywhere in the boats.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Safe Harbour
As the light starts to fade, at the end of the day,
And the last rays of sunset cascade on the bay.
The fishing boats set sail, their little lamps a glow,
Off to deeper waters and the school of fish below.
Along the granite, harbor wall, the lime washed cottage stands,
The little wind swept coastal path to the causeway and sands.
At the point a lighthouse giving out its light,
Protecting the wayward mariner as he sails on through the night.
For generations have come and gone, it’s always been that way,
As tide rolls in with the fishing boats that signals break of day.
poem by Nicholas Windle
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Fishing With Dad
-Sitting around watching it snow -
Listening to the cold wind blow -
It's a dark gray day -
Meant for gazing out a frosty window,
At thoughts so far away.
Sit, and enjoy the sound,
Listening to Greg Brown
Sing about ' Fishing With Bill '.......
And for just a moment of sentiment
The rest of the world is serenly still;
As if this song was meant for me
And my childhood memory,
When it seems all I had
And all I wanted
Was fishing with Bill, my dad.
It was the best blessed time,
His, and mine.
Oh to go back again
And be once more, fishing with him.......
- I thank God
For those wonderful times we had,
Out there on Houghton Lake
Just a fishin',
Me and my Dad.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Gone Fishing
Im gone fishing
I got me a line
Nothing I do is gonna make the difference
So Im taking the time
And you aint never gonna be happy
Anyhow, anyway
So Im gone fishing
And Im going today
Im gone fishing
Sounds crazy I know
I know nothing about fishing
But just watch me go
And when the time has come
I will look back and see
Peace on the shoreline
That could have been me
You can waste a whole lifetime
Trying to be
What you think is expected of you
But youll never be free
May as well go fishing
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Fishing Boats
Weathered boards on the old dock
Sun trying to peak thru
The water like a sublime dream
Seagulls circle the boats
You were there with your humor
With your easy going smile
You loved to take people fishing
Soon I will go into memory
The waters will always laugh
Lakes, rivers and sea
Poetry of the tides
Campfires and moonlight
Old man and the sea
Get the net I gotta big one!
Your fishing boat in the dusk
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Trains And Boats And Planes
Trains and boats and planes are passing by
They mean a trip to Paris or Rome
To someone else but not for me
The trains and boats and planes
Took you away, away from me
We were so in love, and high above
We had a star to wish upon. Wish
And dreams come true, but not for me
The trains and boats and planes
Took you away, away from me
You are from another part of the world
You had to go back a while and then
You said you soon would return again
I'm waiting here like I promised to
I'm waiting here but where are you?
Trains and boats and planes took you a way
But every time I see them I pray
And if my prayers can cross the sea
The trains and the boats and planes
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tibet
Tibet..
All reflected glories some are china come against Japan. China grasping greed as pick up Tibet for long and till now is law.
Venal official claim their own country lands.
China value china olden lands the fishing island which stand near the seas of Japan..
China says they own the fishing island.
Fishing island has change of owner countries for several times. Ok logically pick up fishing island regain their china lands.
Fishing islands back to china all as china grasping greed.
There are sin and china capture Tibet from DALA LAMA.
DALA LAMA and his precedents own and charge Tibet at the older next turns.
Now china arms are strong and all their policies may drum at the worlds but first is Japan which is this chesses and capturing cards.
One should love their country soils but fair for other countries.
Free the Tibet.
Free the Tibet before picking up fishing island and Japan seas that flowed near.
China deaden sounds are gongs and drums.
Get into deathful ends are creepy ways.
China matches are long are sad.
Only saints should lives every more.
China sins are then sinning.
Polar moods are wars are killing forces.
Give the Tibet back to old Tibet leaders all are rights.
---Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3---
poem by Cheung Shun Sang
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At Hout Bay the fishing trawler sails out
At Hout Bay the fishing trawler sails out
while the rain pours down
like water out of God’s hosepipe
with engines roaring in the ears
and clouds of smoke hang over the boats
with every fisherman for a moment being caught
in a own world while fog whirl about the boats
that rocks up and down to the harbour mouth.
The waves crash, the sea foams and bubbles
and “my girlfriend has a good lover, ”
is sung by one while the trawler sets its course
on the look out for barracouta, cod and sea trout.
“Look at the shining bodies, tons of trout, they are running free, ”
a fisherman shouts against the wind that pulls and pulls on the boat.
“Salmon man, salmon” roars the tiller man back and walls of water
roll past and the boat turns to get fishing gear ready.
“My girlfriend has a good lover and he’s a gelded goat, ”
the tune goes on and something clatters down
drawing the attention of the fishermen and the water shines
and when the boat is full they tell jokes that they guffaw at.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cold of morning fog
as the fishing boats set out -
sea like a mirror.
haiku by Rory Hudson
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Fishing For Love
fishing for love, never knowing what you'll get
fishing hard still nothing but you cant quit
catch some, through a few back
fry some up if they don't know how to act
fishing, catch a meal catch a feast
even a guppy is something at least..
poem by Shannon Lowery
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The Fishing Village From Across The Bay
The quiet solitude
of brown fishing boats,
anchors weighed,
riding gently, the soft
movement of the calm waters.
Silent slapping. As the waves
kiss the sides of the boats,
their masts tall and strung
with spiderweb riggings.
Loose canvas flaps idly with
the passing of a breeze,
tugging against the anchor.
Tiredly, the sun continues
its slow journey home, reaching
honey-gold fingers of warmth
through the blanket of clouds.
The orb of power-filled
light-giving energy gives one last
defiant flash as it breaks momentarily
through the clouds.
A dog barks from across the bay
and white puffs of smoke
rise slowly, lazily to meet
the clouds. The sleepy village
readies itself for the sleep
that will bring the new day,
and the sun, rested
from its duties of the day before.
The waves continue to lap
gently against the fishing boats,
Silhouetted gently against the
golden stretch of water from across the bay.
Silence sets in and prayers are
said before bed, and good night
kisses are exchanged and
then the lights are extinguished,
from across the bay.
poem by Kevin Parkin
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I Like That Idea
i like the idea of what boats are meant for
i told you once
boats are meant to sail
far to the sea
and dissolve in the horizon
till they are gone
till they sink
to the bottom of the sea
and kiss its floor
and become the
permanent ornaments
of the corrals and sands
but i like your idea too
of boats
like mine sailing to the farthest sea
of boats like yours
that come back and embrace again
the welcoming arms
of the ports and the shores
and hear the sounds
of men and women
and children
all rejoicing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big Sky Fishing
Listen very closely and hear that distant splash
Maybe just a big catfish moving out of his nest
When the golden rays of a sunrise hit the water
Time to pull one in because it's fishing at its best
Memories of big sky fishing come flooding back
When I think on my historical family traditions
For this brings to me inner peace and much joy
Big Sky Fishing happens without any conditions
poem by John McCornack
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Fishing boats on sea
Suspended wings on blue sky
Sun-shine ripples
quote by by Indira Babbellapati
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Steal
A fishing rod
Stretch into the fishing pond slightly
Sneaking the child
Look around furtively
He did not see
I was at the window
Seeing him
knocked on the window
Ran away the child
Leave a fishing rod
I saw a mouse
Run away like a rushing smoke
The fishing rod
Hung on the iron railing and swayed
Nor fish no fishing rod
The child
The first lesson in life
A cost of stealing
poem by Catherine Yen
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Goodbye Little Colombus
I'm going fishing
I got me a line
Nothin' I do's gonna' make the difference
So I'm taking the time
And you ain't never gonna' be happy
Anyhow, anyway
So I'm going fishing
And I'm going today
I'm going fishing
Sounds crazy I know
I know nothing about fishing
But just watch me go
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bad Day Of Fishing
A bad day of fishing,
Can go a long way.
It beats a good day of work,
Any old day.
Nothing beats fishing, I guarantee,
Listen to what I say.
If you don't like fishing, you'll still agree,
Have a bad fishing day.
11/3/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Crumbling Chalk
Beneath the cliffs of crumbling chalk was once a path
where you could walk. The walk would take you down to
the sand where fishing boats would come to land.
Now this crumbling chalk falls into the sea, where once
crabs and lobsters were caught for tea.
No scavenging left in this lonely bay even the gulls
have flown away; they have left the waves and the spray
are they to return another day.
Nets and pots have been swallowed up by the waves and
now their left to sleep in watery graves. A fishing village that was
once a boom has now become an empty tomb.
An oil slick just driffted into the shore and took away the beauty
that it had known before. Crumbling chalk that drops like tears
on the sand that's black made from the oil smears.
There is nothing left to self contain, oh will they no come
back again.
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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Burning The Boats
The government have announced
That london bridge is to be closed
Under the full moon of may the third
All the light houses and seaside roads
No I never heard I never read in the news
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Tap, tap, tap, birds that sing,
Telephone calls that do not ring,
One, two, three, whats the time ?
Whos that hanging off my line ?
I know that nothing lasts for ever
And Im just waiting for the sun to set
Blowing dust from my loud hailer, on the roof.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
The ministry of co-operation
Are washed and hanging on the line
Theres a million burning questions
To set the thames alight
Now Ive joined an exclusive club
Just by being more than poor
I saw the deputy chairman, on the floor.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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