It Was My Uncle Soul Sifting
it was my uncle soul
sifting in a leaned back
all the way chair down
by the old family lake
taking trout we spent
all day chasing through
reeds and lilies, dodging
loons and other birds
trying to outmaneuver
them in their own home
it was my uncle soul
sifting, lifting trout
entrails, rinsing off
blood and fish and dirt
in the cold lake water
telling me it used to
be a game of his, how
many fish he could trick
before the sun set.
it was my uncle soul
sifting, telling me his
favorite night was years
ago and how he had
only caught one lone
rainbow and was
sitting there, gutting
the heart out listening
to the radio the night
Roy Eldridge died.
it was my uncle soul
sifting, saying he forgot
how many fish he caught
just sat there listening
to old dead Roy play
while the fish cooked
over his burnt coal fire
it was the only way he
knew how to say
goodbye he said, and
tonight it’s me out
there soul sifting, lifting
bits of crumbled dirt and
dust, feeling a part of me
is out there still, the
big blue welling up
inside you, the hole
gone and filled up
with sky.
poem by Ben Paynter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blood Sport
There's nothing
to be gained
sifting over old ground
of who's the winner
the fox or the hound
the hunted or the baying pack
the master of ceremonies
cracks the whip
Uncle Sam
rides on their back
guaranteeing blood on the track.
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
First things first for my friend Ben
The moon is shining on the lake
where trout are rising after flies
this tells me that it’s time to fish.
The gentle art of casting flies
correctly as my father taught,
has filled full many a supper dish
A trout that’s fried in bacon grease
Has a unique taste all its own,
If I were hungry I would wish.
For a fresh trout upon my plate
A feast I would appreciate.
But first you have to catch your fish.
28-May-07
poem by Ivor .e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our biggest fish
When in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,
I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and the like;
And oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul was fraught
When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny string I'd caught!
And, oh, the indignation and the valor I'd display
When I claimed that all the biggest fish I'd caught had got away!
Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes the fragile lines,
And many times the treacherous reeds would foil my just designs;
But whether hooks or lines or reeds were actually to blame,
I kept right on at losing all the monsters just the same--
I never lost a little fish--yes, I am free to say
It always was the biggest fish I caught that got away.
And so it was, when later on, I felt ambition pass
From callow minnow joys to nobler greed for pike and bass;
I found it quite convenient, when the beauties wouldn't bite
And I returned all bootless from the watery chase at night,
To feign a cheery aspect and recount in accents gay
How the biggest fish that I had caught had somehow got away.
And really, fish look bigger than they are before they are before they're
caught--
When the pole is bent into a bow and the slender line is taut,
When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a doughnut in his throat
And he lunges in a frenzy up and down the leaky boat!
Oh, you who've been a-fishing will indorse me when I say
That it always is the biggest fish you catch that gets away!
'T 'is even so in other things--yes, in our greedy eyes
The biggest boon is some elusive, never-captured prize;
We angle for the honors and the sweets of human life--
Like fishermen we brave the seas that roll in endless strife;
And then at last, when all is done and we are spent and gray,
We own the biggest fish we've caught are those that got away.
I would not have it otherwise; 't is better there should be
Much bigger fish than I have caught a-swimming in the sea;
For now some worthier one than I may angle for that game--
May by his arts entice, entrap, and comprehend the same;
Which, having done, perchance he'll bless the man who's proud to say
That the biggest fish he ever caught were those that got away.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fish
The cop holds me up like a fish;
he feels the huge bones
surrounding my eyes,
and he runs a thumb under them,
lifting my eyelids
as if they were
envelopes filled with the night.
Now he turns
my head back and forth, gently,
until I'm so tame and still
I could be a tiny, plastic
skull left on the
dashboard of a junked car.
By now he's so sure of me
he chews gum,
and drops his flashlight to his side;
he could be cleaning a trout
while the pines rise into the darkness,
though tonight trout
are freezing into bits of stars
under the ice. When he lets me go
I feel numb. I feel like
a fish burned by his touch, and turn
and slip into the cold
night rippling with neons,
and the razor blades
of the poor,
and the torn mouths on posters.
Once, I thought even through this
I could go quietly as a star turning over and over
in the deep truce of its light.
Now, I must
go on repeating the last, filthy
words on the lips
of this shunken head
shining out of its death in the moon—
until trout surface
with their petrified, round eyes,
and the stars begin moving.
poem by Larry Levis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We went to a small lake, Bass Lake. It was beautiful. It was perfectly still when we got there in the morning. The fog was lifting off the water. It was just magical. And we did catch some fish, 13 fish.
quote by Jennifer Granholm
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Me & My Uncle
me and my uncle went a'riden down
From colorado west texas bound
We stopped over in santa fe
The part of being about half way.
Besides it was the hottest part of the day.
We led our ponies into a stall.
Went to a bar, boys.
Bought drinks for all.
Two days in the saddle, my body hurt,
And being summer, took off my shirt,
And tried to wash off some of that dusty dirt.
West texas cowboys, all over town,
With gold and silver, their loaded down.
Just in for round up
You know it seemed a shame
And so my uncle starts a friendly game
Hollow jack, the winner takes the game.
But from the beginning my uncle started to win.
Them texas cowboys they was mad as sin.
Some said he's cheatin'
Ah, but that can't be, because my uncle, well, he's as honest as me.
I'm about as honest as a denver man can be.
One of them cowboys, you know he started to draw.
I grabbed a bottle, slapped him on the jaw.
I had to shoot another now he won't grow old
In the confusion my uncle grabbed the gold.
We hightailed it down to mexico,
Mexico, went down to mexico.
God bless cowboys
God bless gold
God bless my uncle, god rest his soul
He taught me well, boys
He taught me all i know
Taught me so that i grabbed the gold
Left him lying there by the side of the road.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Me My Uncle
Me and my uncle went ariden down
From colorado west texas bound
We stopped over in santa fe
The part of being about half way.
Besides it was the hottest part of the day.
We led our ponies into a stall.
Went to a bar, boys.
Bought drinks for all.
Two days in the saddle, my body hurt,
And being summer, took off my shirt,
And tried to wash off some of that dusty dirt.
West texas cowboys, all over town,
With gold and silver, their loaded down.
Just in for round up
You know it seemed a shame
And so my uncle starts a friendly game
Hollow jack, the winner takes the game.
But from the beginning my uncle started to win.
Them texas cowboys they was mad as sin.
Some said hes cheatin
Ah, but that cant be, because my uncle, well, hes as honest as me.
Im about as honest as a denver man can be.
One of them cowboys, you know he started to draw.
I grabbed a bottle, slapped him on the jaw.
I had to shoot another now he wont grow old
In the confusion my uncle grabbed the gold.
We hightailed it down to mexico,
Mexico, went down to mexico.
God bless cowboys
God bless gold
God bless my uncle, God rest his soul
He taught me well, boys
He taught me all I know
Taught me so that I grabbed the gold
Left him lying there by the side of the road.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Big Fish
My dream was to catch a big fish
Uncle Harold said fish when its dark
So out of my warm bed I would hop
And fishing became my trademark
My sunrises were spend on the banks
Was a perfect way to start every day
But it always ended without my fish
So photography became a better way
poem by John McCornack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Caring For a Dead Fish
When the cupboard is bare
And the cat’s had the cream,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When the house is on fire
And the birds have all flown,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When your loved ones have gone
And you’re left all alone,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When the seas have dried up
And the land is all desert,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When the Sun has gone Nova
And we’re all blown to bits,
Who cares about a dead fish?
When it’s all empty space
And there’s nothing at all,
Even a dead fish would be worth caring about.
poem by Pete Crowther
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Me & My Uncle
Me and my uncle went ridin down,
South colorado, west texas bound.
We stopped over in santa fe,
That bein the point just about half way,
And you know it was the hottest part of the day.
I took the horses up to the stall,
Went to the barroom, ordered drinks for all.
Three days in the saddle, you know my body hurt,
It bein summer, I took off my shirt,
And I tried to wash off some of that dusty dirt.
When texas cowboys, theys all around,
With liquor and money, they loaded down.
So soon after payday, know it seemed a shame;
You know my uncle, he starts a friendly game,
High-low jack and the winner take the hand.
My uncle starts winnin; cowboys got sore.
One of them called him, and then two more,
Accused him of cheatin; oh no, it couldnt be.
I know my uncle, hes as honest as me,
And Im as honest as a gamblin man can be.
One of them cowboys, he starts to draw,
And I shot him down, lord he never saw.
Well I grabbed a bottle, cracked him in the jaw,
Shot me another, oh damn he wont grow old.
In the confusion, my uncle grabbed the gold,
And we high-tailed it down to mexico.
I love those cowboys, I love their gold,
I loved my uncle, God rest his soul,
Taught me good, lord, taught me all I know
Taught me so well, I grabbed that gold
And I left his dead ass there by the side of the road.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Heart and Soul
Poetry is a
Dried out Old
Shell
The remnants
of Heart and
Soul
Words,
gently sifting
through our Hands
like Sand
poem by Jay Reynolds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Killybegs
My heart was warm with family love as I slipped into a chair
Beside my uncle john, my daughters cross the table there
Id walked the docks in misty rain, a pain was in my legs
But Id seen the dream of kinsmen in the boats of killybegs
The banter of my uncle and my daughters filled the air and the gunning brothers? next to us were glad that we were there
I was kind of quiet listening at the window ledge
For the music of the harbor, the birds of killybegs
Down the coast not far was galway land of joys and kinnamar? at their supper and asleep we would visit? there tomorrow
I worried if my words would eer be sung by irishmen
Or out here on the docks? ?
Like the fish of killybegs
A radio was playing though we never heard a word
But the rhythm of the music was familiar if absurd and harkning intensity? for silence did I beg
Oh what a song was playing in the air of killybegs
I couldnt quite believe it for it sounded rather strange
The instruments were different and the key had been changed
I reached to turn the volume up then teetered on my legs
A girl from tipperary sang my song in killybegs
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Story of Joe
Humvee, Humvee far away
Keep my uncle safe I pray
In the desert worlds apart
He is driving with his heart
my uncle in a humvee far away
Towards the city is were they drove
God's plan will yet unfold
Danger lurking everywhere
But Uncle Joe did not care,
Savig lives protecting in a humvee far away
Explosions, screams, blood
the thought of not knowing still stood
when along the road
this tradgey did occur,
a roadside bomb lay on the curb
waiting for its turn
Along the road far away
Crash, smash, bash
the humvee exploded
my whole world soon imploded
Uncle Joe the hero not a zero
in the desert far away
He took the impact on his own
saved the lives of those along
in the humvee far away
Saving their lives,
they took his own
ungrateful servants
misunderstood
in the desert far away
He is gone, my loss is great
I will never forget this tradgey faced
my uncle is dead and gone
the silent hero
saving their lives, they took his own
terrorists are ungrateful
they took a hero from our mist
and from my life
in the dersert far away
Where he was grief now stands
his blood ran cold in the streets
as my heart starts to weep
like a child cold and alone
in my heart
In the desert far away
is now where his soul is to stay?
My Uncle Joe, the silent hero
somewhere far away
poem by Christin Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fish Out Of Water
I feel so out of place here
With this high society
These high fallutin people
Dont know what to make of me
I feel like a minnow in a sea of moby dicks
A small fry in a big pan
Theyre caviar -- Im fish sticks
Fish out of water
I know I dont belong
Fish out of water
Everything I do is wrong
My style of hair, the clothes I wear
The way I speak, the things I eat
The way I act, my lack of tact
Nothin seems to fit
Fish out of water
Flounderin round
Out of my element
But Im just as good as they are
Why do I feel second rate
Its like, sorry charlie,
We want only tuna with good taste
I guess you could say wal-mart
Is quite a way from guccis
Im timex, theyre rolex
Im captain ds, theyre sushi
Fish out of water
Ive had it to the gills
Fish out of water
With these yuppie-guppie frills
Yeah, Im a square in a round hole
A catfish in a goldfish bowl
A little fish with lots of soul
Out of my element
Fish out of water
Flounderin round just for the halibut
Save me, save me
S.o.s. somebody
Save me, save me
Somebody rescue me
Fish out of water
Somebody throw me in
Fish out of water
On a scale of one to ten
Im a two, perhaps a three
Compared to the big fish in the sea
Im washed ashore so save me please
Im in an awful fix
Fish out of water
Rescue me
And you better do it quick
Fish out of water
Its such a culture shock
Fish out of water
My stomachs tied in knots
Fish out of water
Fish out of water
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
That Poor Defencless Fish
that poor defenceless fish,
caught a haft hour ago.
they chopped off his head,
and cut through his guts.
just think for a minute,
just a uick minute.
how does that poor fish feel? how would you like it?
that poor defenceless fish,
his last thoughts,
lord, have mercy on my soul,
or just get it over with.
i feel bad for that fish,
that poor little fish.
and thats the story,
of the poor defenceless fish
poem by Tamera Swafford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As My Uncle Used To Say
I've thought a power on men and things,
As my uncle ust to say,--
And ef folks don't work as they pray, i jings!
W'y, they ain't no use to pray!
Ef you want somepin', and jes dead-set
A-pleadin' fer it with both eyes wet,
And _tears_ won't bring it, w'y, you try _sweat_,
As my uncle ust to say.
They's some don't know their A, B, Cs,
As my uncle ust to say,
And yit don't waste no candle-grease,
Ner whistle their lives away!
But ef they can't write no book, ner rhyme
No ringin' song fer to last all time,
They can blaze the way fer the march sublime,
As my uncle ust to say.
Whoever's Foreman of all things here,
As my uncle ust to say,
He knows each job 'at we 're best fit fer,
And our round-up, night and day:
And a-sizin' _His_ work, east and west,
And north and south, and worst and best
I ain't got nothin' to suggest,
As my uncle ust to say.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Watching the hours pass by
Johnny sits waiting all day
For fish to arrive
He wonders whether they have died
For hours and hours he waits for the fish to take it’s bait
A ripple in the lake
Sends his fishing rod a warning
The worm has been spiced up for the fish
Its fragrance was aroused in the lake
The fish tasted the hot spices in the cool lake
“Steady old girl” says Johnny with a smile
“ Soon you will be mine”
Ripples overlap
The fish rod numbs with pain
The fish battles with the rod
Johnny pulls harder
He will not let go
Its weight surpasses that of a stone
The fish hooks himself loose
The ripple disappears
Johnny sits waiting at the end of the lake
Waiting for another to taste his spicy bait
poem by Lee John Siebritz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fish Song
Sat here by this stony brook until the grey day turned to dust
When up swam a fish with a childrens book thought that I was lost.
He was on his way to the salmon hop, thats where they go to breed
Saw me sitting on this log and thought Id like to read.
The night was cloudy but the moon he found a hole
Said that he felt bad for me cause I had no place to go
Why arent you at the harvest ball with some sweet young gal
You just sit like a bump on the log and call that fish your pal.
Well, I told him I was an orphan lived here all alone
But many people have often tried to catch and take me home
They never caught me!
Thought that I was a hiding, call this log my home
But the fish and the moon and a sweet young gal
All want me for their own.
The night was cloudy but the moon he found a hole
Said that he felt bad for me cause I had no place to go
So I met that gal at the harvest ball, she took me to her room
While I slept in childrens dreams, the fish ran away with the moon.
The fish ran away with the moon
The fish ran away with the moon.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!