Scrap Irony
You went fishing,
thinking you were the fisherman...
but unknowingly,
you were reduced...
to the stone fly hanging
from the control rod
of your parents misguidance!
poem by Michael Fischer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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John The Fisherman
When he was young youd not find him doing well in school,
His mind would turn unto the waters.
Always the focus of adolescent ridicule,
He has no time for farmers daughters.
Alienated from the clique society,
A lonely boy finds peace in fishing.
His mother says john this is not the way lifes supposed to be.
Dont you see the life that you are missing?
And he says...
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Now years gone by we find man that rules the sea.
He sets out on a dark may morning .
To bring his catch back to this small community.
He doesnt see the danger dawning.
Four hours up, oh the ocean swelled and swelled,
The fog rolled in it started raining.
The starboard bow. oh my God were going down!
The do not hear his frantic mayday.
And he says
When I grow up I want to be,
One of the harvesters of the sea.
I think before my days are done,
I want to be a fisherman.
Ill live and die a fisherman.
Calling john the fisherman.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moments of Truth
Fishing for just who has been paid,
To dismiss the red tape usually laid...
With a duplication generally instigated,
To complicate a masquerade paced to chase...
Fakes away.
Moments of truth,
Are often reduced...
To a mocking done with folly!
Disguising the lies,
Told to rise to heights...
Those who become idolized.
Moments of truth,
Are often reduced...
To criminalize those who choose not to hide lies.
Fishing for just who has been paid,
To dismiss the red tape usually laid...
With a duplication generally instigated,
To complicate a masquerade paced to chase...
Fakes away.
Moments of truth,
Are often reduced...
To a mocking done with folly!
Moments of truth,
Are often reduced...
To criminalize the wise.
Those accustomed to be duped,
Will always stoop...
To take positions as fools,
At no surprise by those who see...
Through disguises!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Little Crab
As the little crab climbed
To the top of the basket
Hoping to make an escape
The bigger crabs pulled him down
And when the consignment
Did reach the market place
The Fisherman’s son was delighted
To find a small crab in the bag
He picked it up carefully
Drooling at the thought of soup
But this time the little crab
Reacted fast, he bit the boy’s hand
Falling quickly to the ground
As the child reduced his grip
Undaunted by the crack in his shell
He scuttled away in search of
A safer place, far away from
Fishing baskets, boys and big crabs.
poem by Sandra Martyres
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Tourist attraction. for M' lady Denise
A hanging stone on the high tor.
Is balancing precariously.
A well known curiosity
Which may well last for evermore.
It has defied the elements.
We think for many centuries
and barring any accident
It will remain place to tease.
The pessimists who are quite sure
The day will come when it must fall.
The hanging stone is a treasure
Which belongs to one and all.
The hanging stone on the high tor
A monument you can’t ignore.
Sunday,18 July 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Boardinghouse by the riverside
He has lost his youthful idealism.
The old bachelor sips his mug of coffee,
She stirred well the spinster Landlady.
I have no idea any further,
But he's a boarder with the rest two,
A barber and a bankrupt fisherman.
Bachelor depends on his pension
And he dreams all the time,
If he marries this stingy lady
by an accident he could buy
The fisherman's selling boat
and live happily by fishing?
[We are always the same age inside.-Stein]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Your Fishing Pole
There is something about you, something in your soul
something that seems to surround your fishing pole….
You moved to the coast, now that’s no lie
And we had a hard time with that little goodbye
But no need for heartache, no need to console
You had your boat and your fishing pole.
You know everyday you go out to fish
it’s like a genie granting every little wish
every time that bobber goes out of control
we know you are happy with your fishing pole.
Now on birthdays it’s special out on the water
I hear if you’re there, they’ll jump for the slaughter
You’ll be piling them in like your lucks on a roll
Reeling them in with your fishing pole
So today of all days take heed and relax
Pack up a cooler with drinks and some snacks
put on your shoes and go take a stroll
Down to your boat with your fishing pole.
poem by Kathleen J. Shields
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Rongmon the Fisherman by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika (Translated from Assamese)
That morning
Rongmon the Fisherman
Went fishing
On his wobbly little boat
'Please don't go fishing!
Please don't go fishing!
Look, there comes the storm
O Rongmon, listen,
The river is swarming
With crocodiles
Thirsting for blood'
But towards the evening
In middle of the river
He disappeared 'thout a trace
Beating her bosom
Look'in at heaven
(Rohdoi) gave out a heart piercing wail
‘Go, you waves, take flight
I'll find my way through the night
My Rongmon must be brought home'
Lying on the beach
Brought by the waves
Atlast, She found her Man...
(Translated by S.A.Shah, Bokultol)
poem by Syed Ahmed Shah
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Lucky Catch
Once saw a small boy
Hand line a very large fish
Very lucky boy!
With expensive gear
Fisherman cast very far
Not a single fish
'Boy could barely cast'
Remarked the old fisherman
'Just beginners luck'
True about boy's skills.
Could only cast to the fish
Feeding at his feet
Not just gear or skill
To be lucky in fishing:
Fish where the fish are!
poem by Zen Bojczuk
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Prince Edward Island
In Prince Edward Island
I am in a fishing boat
Working
With the rest of the
Other fisherman
On board
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Who Are the Victims of This Misguidance?
They were not aware they were being treated special?
Like one who waves,
From the backseat of a limousine.
Did it occur to them...
As they passed those homeless,
Hungry and poor.
Their very presence had been considered obscene?
And why was it necessary...
To careen through lost and vacant dreams?
Who are the victims of this misguidance?
Who are the victims of this scene?
They were not aware they were being treated special?
Even when hints were dropped...
They should continue and not stop.
They should not ask any questions,
But proceed to throw bread...
Out of the window instead.
And consider those who ran after crumbs...
As birds without wings.
Since they do not like to be called bums.
Who are the victims of this misguidance?
Who are the victims of this scene?
And they were not aware they were being treated special?
Those who rode inside by a driver.
Nor did they who chased collecting another's waste.
Believing their needs were being met.
By someone who accepted them...
And left them to forget.
As those electing to choose values of poor taste.
Something neither chose...
As they ran or rode,
To remember or regret!
Who are the victims of this misguidance?
Who are the victims of this scene?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Persistently Pursuing Piscine Protein
Once again whilst fishing at the beach,
The fish they all stayed out of reach,
I think they knew that I was there,
And so my fish bag it stayed bare.
Nothing in there for me to eat,
The scaly ones had me beat,
But such is the nature of this fisherman,
I'll be trying again as soon as I can,
And next time I'll catch fish a' plenty,
Not going home with my fish bag empty.
This optimism keeps shining bright,
No matter how often on a cold wet night,
I venture out and fail to catch,
I know next time will be game, set, and match.
To me the stupidly determined one,
Who keeps on fishing when all hope is gone!
Tom Higgins 19/11/2012
poem by Tom Higgins
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bloodline ***** FISHING ON PALILAN TABO-O WHITE SAND TRENCHES
in memory of the late Carlos carling Caminos, our fisherman, and to my biological Papa Romy
at Brgy. Palilan and Tabo0o, Jimenez, Misamis Occidental,
Mindanao, Philippines
Nearly summer
March night of 1995
crest of waves took off
beneath the escaping-out Pacific
typhoon eye
hitting upper most Philippine
archipelago
A perfect night for
my childish fishing adventure
at Misamis sea
after Papa permitted me to
join Carling in GOODBYE type
fishing
I threw then a fishing net as we
had approached the fishing bay
above coral reefs to trap
passer-by seasonal school of fish
locally known as the matam-baka
carried by low tide current
along trenches
we had a good 'catch' ever
until the last thrown and
the fishing net was trapped
along reefs
we simply bid goodbye
same as that fishing type was being called
goodbye to the nylon net
goodbye to the just caught fishes
too hard to pull it back
into our customized pump boat
the current was so strong
unpredicted
only the fisher's kerosene lamp
was left as we went back
shore
I lighted on
until now flaming in the
school of my memories
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We R In Control
We control the data banks
We control the think tanks
We control the flow of air.
Were controlling traffic lights
We control computer flights
We control the chief of staff.
We control the tv sky
We control the fbi
We control the flow of heat.
Computer age in harms way.
We will prevail and perform our function
C.c.t.b.
Were controlling
Were controlling
We control.
Were controlling
We control.
We control.
We control you floor to floor
We control you door to door
Were controlling while you sleep
Computer age in harms way.
We will prevail and perform our function
C.c.t.b.
Computer age in harms way.
We will prevail and perform our function
C.c.t.b.
We are in control, we are in control, we are in control.
We are in control, we are in control, we are in control.
We are in control, we are in control, we are in control.
We are in control, we are in control, we are in control.
Chemical computer thinking battery.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ability-1
And
She's treading on still..
As has been so far
Deafly unconcerned
Along a road, in the cab, in the shop
Anywhere
Unbeaten by deafening noise
Unbothered of scolding, mocking, joking, shirking
Others blaring in
searching a piece of sound
Fathoming her ears
Unknowingly that
She the queen
Her dictatorship bejeweled, bedecked
Slamming everybody at her feet
Her best familial way
Despite a deaf, illiterate
Unknowingly about
Her sovereign cognition
Of kitchen and as well of her nation
Despite a deaf, illiterate
Unknowingly that
She the most unconcerned of herself
Devoid of aid any her hearing-loss
Yet can talk on M.S.Subbalakshmi
Despite a deaf, illiterate
Unknowingly that
She the shepherdess of the infernals
Where she's treading on still..
The bold and deaf ninetyfive
To the inkling sound of silence
Treading on still..
poem by Indira Renganathan
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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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Love Is Fire
Its a long dark day
When we realize and understand
That weve come so far
Destiny lies close to home
L will do what l can
To keep my spirit safe and strong
If I fall on the way
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
Chorus
Love is fire
Hate is stone
We desire
What we cant hold (oh no)
When theres anger
(outa) outa control
Hate is fire
Love is stone
Time deals its hand
How can we live in tenderness?
When the world seems so cold
To those who choose to take a stand!
Ooo, if l refuse to walk the line (walk the line)
Or see my dreams through someones eyes
(you know that) iii take that chance
cause nothing ever stays the same
Love is fire
Hate is stone
We desire
Ooo, what we cant hold
When theres anger
(outa) outa control
Hate is fire, ooo
Love is stone
Love is fire
Hate is stone
We desire
What we cannot hold
When theres anger
(outa) outa control yeh
Hate is fire
Love, love is stone
(you know that) love is fire
(I need to know youii see me through)
Hate is stone
(doesnt matter what we choose to do)
We desire,
Ooo, what we cant hold
When theres anger
Runnin out of control
Hate is fire
Love, now iove is stone
Love is fire
Hate is stone
We desire
What we cannot seem to hold
When theres anger
Its runnin, runnin out of control
Hate is fire
Love is stone
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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