Turbulent Waters
Mountain trout in deep pools lurk
Casting line in search
haiku by Charles Garcia (2005)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Casting My Spell On You
A johnson/e johnson
I took a black cat, (a cave bat) threw em in a pot pot, pot pot pot pot
I took a green snake, (a blue snake), tied em in a knot knot, knot knot knot knot
I took the dogs paw, (a calves jaw) hung em on the line line, line line line line
I took a horse hair, (a green bear) made a crazy sign sign, sign sign sign sign
Im casting my spell on you, casting my spell on you, casting my spell on you
Youll never never be untrue, yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah,yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah
I took a ghost too, an old shoe, put em in the ground ground, ground ground ground ground
I took and old dish, a dried fish, made a crazy sound sound, sound sound sound sound
I took in a goose egg, a frog leg, put em in a sack sack, sack sack sack sack
I got a hindu, (a tattoo) a genie on my back back, back back back back
Im casting my spell on you, casting my spell on you, casting my spell on you
Youll never never be untrue, yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah,yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah
I took a black cat, (a cave bat) threw em in a pot pot, pot pot pot pot
I took a green snake, (a blue snake), tied em in a knot knot, knot knot knot knot
I took the dogs paw, (a calves jaw) hung em on the line line, line line line line
I took a horse hair, (a green bear) made a crazy sign sign, sign sign sign sign
Im casting my spell on you, casting my spell on you, casting my spell on you,youll never never be untrue,
Casting my spell on you, casting my spell on you, casting my spell on you, youll never never be untrue,
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Brook And The Wave. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)
The brooklet came from the mountain,
As sang the bard of old,
Running with feet of silver
Over the sands of gold!
Far away in the briny ocean
There rolled a turbulent wave,
Now singing along the sea-beach,
Now howling along the cave.
And the brooklet has found the billow,
Though they flowed so far apart,
And has filled with its freshness and sweetness
That turbulent, bitter heart!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Casting A Spell
LA'-LA-E/LA-LA'-E'
Oi
Maria mondou me dizer
Maria mondou me dizer
Nao (eu) quero falar com voce
Oi
She's just testing her wings and if you give in to her, you'll be just another feather in her cap-she'll drop you in a flash.
She's casting a spell, she's casting a spell, well if she's casting a spell, I can castone as well.
So I said. "No, no, no, I ain't falling for this!
This girl is built to tease; she's only testing the efficiency of her kiss."
She's casting a spell.
Well, if she's casting a spell; I can cast one as well.
She wants to check out how you check out on her test-bed:
Will you get in her book or will you go right to her head?
She's casting a spell.
Well, if she's casting a spell; I can cast one as well.
And so, I cast it right back on her, don't you know my luck; she fell under the influence and then the thunder struck.
Now we're casting a spell, we're casting a spell-you can cast one as well!
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yes, the Fish Music
A trout-colored wind blows
through my eyes, through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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If I Win Tattslotto
If I win Tattslotto I'd travel far away
I'd visit South America home of mara and rhea
I'd buy a working Llama, I'd climb the mountain track
And Llama close behind me my luggage on his back.
Above the Andean mountains the hunting condor fly
For hours on end on windless day he hover in the sky
I'd travel this vast continent four thousand miles or more
The plains of Argentina the hills of Ecuador.
I would boat on the Amazon through forests of Brazil
Through deep and silent waters where one mistake can kill
Where lurk the small pirhana the cruelest killer known
A school of them in minutes would eat man to the bone.
The jungles of the jaguar the silent beast of prey
He hunt in darkened forest and hide from lamp of day
The fearless harpy eagle he fill his empty craw
On meat of forest dwellers the monkey and macaw.
If I win tattslotto I need not work no more
I'd travel South America from top to southern shore
I'd travel down the Amazon though forests of Brazil
Through deep and silent waters where one mistake can kill.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Trout
High mountains
cold and dark against night
Shuffling feet
along heavy planks of pier
Pulling ropes of bow and stern
Tiny boat undulating
to currents of moon-lit waters
Fishing tackle stowed
poles boxes bait
livelings wriggling in sawdust
cheese balls in oil
and dancing metal lures
to sparkle feint and run
Casting off by oar
Pulling at the tiny motor
Rope and crank rope and crank
Choke and rope
Chug sputter chug adjust
sputter whirr
Clanking of metal against metal
Cutting straight toward the deep
into the quiet
A muffled skimming
Waves slapping prow
Ball caps life preservers
coffee soft drinks sandwiches
They are off for the game
of fishing
before sun rising
to dropp enticers into deep
running spinners in shallows
They play the game
of reading trout
father and son
and being quite possibly
as close as they
can ever be
poem by Tom Courtney
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Green-Water Stream
To reach the Yellow-Flowered River
Go by the Green-Water Stream.
A thousand twists and turns of mountain
But the way there can’t be many miles.
The sound of water falling over rocks
And deep colour among pines.
Gently green floating water-plants.
Bright the mirrored reeds and rushes.
I am a lover of true quietness.
Watching the flow of clear water
I dream of sitting on the uncarved rock
casting a line on the endless stream.
poem by Wang Wei
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Love's Constancy
Anyone who has waded
Through Love's turbulent waters,
Now feeling hunger and now satiety,
Is untouched by the season
Of withering or blooming,
For in the deepest and most dangerous waters,
On the highest peaks,
Love is always the same.
poem by Hadewijch of Antwerp
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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Waters Of Scapa Flow
Seagulls fly low over the waters
of Scapa Flow
where giant warships lie sleeping
in the waters far below.
At the end of the First World War
the Germans gathered their ship in line
and the scuttled them.
Rather than hand them over
to the victors of the war.
Now the mighty warships sleep soundly
with the fish deep blow
in the waters of Scapa Flow.
6 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Subterranean for M lady Deana
Cascades of crystal water flow
into the waiting pool below.
The force and power of the descent
Renders the water turbulent.
Although hemmed in by rocky walls,
the pool beneath the water falls
is never known to overflow.
I wonder where the waters go.
Far, far away a river flows.
I have been told by one who knows.
Its source is that same rocky pool
which send its waters clear and cool
By secret streams deep underground
to where an exit can be found
A pathway to the world outside
to form a river deep and wide.
Close by its brink I sit and think
as shy wild creatures come to drink.
His explanation could be true
a train of thought which I pursue.
At last I find I must accept
this rather startling new concept
Which solves for me a mystery
I need no longer wonder why.
That distant pool won’t overflow
it has some outlet down below.
Which sets the pent up waters free
to run swiftly and secretly.
Through passages unknown to men
until it can emerge again.
Into the light where it can be
a broad stream dreaming placidly.
20-Nov-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Calm Waters
We set out on life’s ocean
filled with turbulent waves,
often looking for calmer waters
in which to stay and bathe.
We seek to find happiness
all of us want to find.
Some times, we find a friend,
who will take us by the hand,
leading us to those calm waters
we were looking for.
poem by David Harris
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Fountain at San Damiano
Splashing like diamonds
water fills the bowl
spills to cool shallows
to darting larvae,
fetal tadpole.
A river falls
drawing grace
to darker pools
where pensive koi
deep waters
peruse.
poem by Steven Federle
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An Eagle's Life
An Eagle soars high above,
Skimming seas, lakes and cove,
Piercing, sharp, an Eagle's eye,
Swooping down, did spy,
Swimming trout en route,
Mother Nature's food.
She swooped down and without a doubt,
The majestic eagle has just caught a trout.
With one swipe, her claw did grab,
A fleshy trout, hardly a flap.
At Sea
Three are emerald pools in the sea,
And wing-like flashes of light;
The sea is bound with the heavens
In a large delight.
Night comes out of the east
And rushes down on the sun;
The emerald pools and the light pools
Are darkened and done.
Our boat dips and cleaves onward,
Careless of night or of light,
Following the line of her compass
By her engines' might.
Through the desert of air and of water;
Like the lonely soul of man,
Following her fate to the ending,
Unaware of the hidden plan.
Sure only of battle and longing,
Of the pain and the quest,
And beyond in the darkness somewhere
Sure of her rest.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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Pools of Water
As I
stepped into
opaque pools
of water
a soft hand
beckoned me
come and
enjoy the
flow
as gentle warm
waters
splashed around
my ankles
I was stirred by
their energies
captivated by
their movement
as we began to
swim
strong arms
enciccled me
I was held
breathless
carried into
seventh heaven
never having
been there
before
and as I gazed
into
crystal pools
they told me
everything
I ever wanted
to know.
poem by Heather Burns
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Concentric
Pebble tossed into waters deep
Ripples awakened… from gentle sleep
Concentric rings of force in search
Of mossy banks ‘gainst which to lurch
And said stone sinks deep…deep
To mossy floor…watched by perch
…then seen no more…
Small rock I tossed, wraps silt around
Then snuggles deep into muddy ground
And sudden silence, not a peep!
It calmly falls into stony sleep
On mossy floor…in water deep
To visions of rapids and craggy shore
Watched by tadpoles
…then seen no more…
Pebble tossed into waters dank
By chance and fate, and cosmos swept
At random picked from rocky bank
Like life and Nature's mysteries kept
By chance and fate, by love and hate
We're children not of choice, but chance…
Given only a summary glance
Then seen no more
…no more…
poem by David Whalen
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Word Fervor
I am awake
weak with fervor
word residue
demand residue
draining words
leave in source
swiftly written
day upon day
without cessation
spring melt
is rapid
ice melt
winter melt
from high
mountain passes
flow neither waits
nor impeded hinders
observe flow waters
observe flow words
rapidly boiling forth
upon overflow rock
water force weight
unrestrained turbulent energy
unobserved water
still flows
unobserved without pause
lessons in
swift flowing waters
like swift flowing words
seen only
by those attentive
with sight to see
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Dao Of Fishing
Does a trout know it lives in water?
A lake her own watery universe,
where survival depends on speed
and an ability to find sustenance
The trout prays to her fish god;
“Lord god I hunger…feed me”
As if magic,
a fat worm drifts down from above
Instinctively the eager trout greedily
gulps down the wiggler
She then feels something sharp
in her gullet, then something
pulling her upward
She struggles;
Twisting and writhing
She’s pulled to waters surface
where she desperately jumps
It’s no use; the pull is too strong
Giving up she relaxes,
as a green web scoops down
and roughly encircles her
She gasps for breath in this dry
hostile alien environment
She hears a strange sound;
“Dad, ain’t she a beauty”
A beefy hand grasps the trout
Something cold is thrust down her throat
She feels the sharp hook dislodge and pull free
She makes a weak attempt to wiggle free,
just as another beefy hand holding something
wooden strikes downward…
She’s losing consciousness, but fights the
looming blackness long enough to think;
“God why hast thou forsaken me”
Then silence…
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Moment Of Truth
An ultimate lie becomes a reality in life,
Like slit in the throat of a lamb in a meadow.
A wounded ego scrambles
for an explanation,
which is not coming.
Who can stop this verdict of a non-trial?
The tragic nonending of a conflict
between doubt and inherited faith?
You search for a perfect rhythm in
a turbulent crowd,
search for a silence in a flaming torch,
in the moment of truth,
when an entity is disintegrating.
poem by Satish Verma
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