On golden shores on white sands,
Stands a blue catamaran.
With toil, love, skillfully made.
Though paint chips off, colors fade.
It's built from logs of hardy wood,
A fisherman... his livelihood.
He sails each day, with hopes new,
His life, his love on a rippling blue.

On calm waters when sun shine beams,
When the shimmering bay glistening gleams,
When waves dance, in tandem sway
Where sun rays wink, hide and play.

On vengeful days when waters mock,
When menacing gales toss and rock,
When dark clouds engulf the bay,
When the world anchored safely stays.

But the sun kissed fisherman,
Sails each day his catamaran..
Never tethered on safe shores he,
For thats not where he's meant to be.

As he sails the coastal bay,
I see him fade.. far away
Singing songs, in the distance he,
His love, his life, his hope..the sea.

I a m hungry, therefore I am -  Garfield



IN prayer he will never utter
    it waits for the rain of milk,
       a heavy rain, because of him

the cat with thirsty tongue, see with
      its own eye, when mother was disappear.

In prayer he never dared to ask
     it wants a fishy fish neck,
         the smell of a fisherman,

no care about salt salinity, or its own sweat.

In prayers he will never say
       it expected the lap, the fire on that stove
                warm, and maybe also sear.

MONTHS are mature, the moon comes, I pluck you, with a doubtful hand and an abundance of anxiety. Night is ripe, night comes.

Moon hungry, wild moon. You make me a bat, take out. I am from the blind stone cave, hunting you. Night hungry, wild night.

The moon is sharp, the moon is deep. I'm a diver fisherman, long sharpening. Spear, on you I shut my eyes-wounded. Night sharp, deep night.

The sky was blue that day,
speckled with white
And the sun was a pleasant orb,
Toasting the skin of the people to a light brown
Showering the tops of every wave
With diamond rays
The fishermen cast their nets
Methodically, cheerfully
And she peeked out from her hiding place,
curiosity getting the best of her
His hands smelled like crab
And he smiled, worn like the sea
And she smiled back,
hesitantly
Because, of course, it wasn’t custom,
this smiling
But she couldn’t help it
Because his eyes were kind
And he,
he couldn’t believe them
(his kind eyes)
For she was the stuff of fables
And she shed her scales for him,
the fisherman with the smiling worn eyes
And instead wore rosy pink legs
that toasted to a light brown
under the pleasant orb of sun

•

You are a really good fisherman,



And I am just but a foolish fish,




                                                       ­                      Preposterously bitten your hook,
                                                    With your bait of feigned love attached to it,
  



                                   Piercing it all the way to my heart,


                  Leaving me wounded with all of those prevaricates I've fell for,


But I don't know why,

                            I still love the feeling,

                                         That you've been jumping in gladness,

                                             That you've finally caught me,



Even though I was hardly breathing,

               'Cause you've taken  me away from the place,

                                  That makes me breathe and gives me joy.


                                 It somehow gives me relief,

                 Seeing the auspicious sun,

Brightly gleaming into my beautiful scales,

Not knowing it was just a start of a baleful Gehenna!




                    I should've known all along that it's just an entice!




                              But I am still blessed,


           'Cause I have manage to escape,

                                While damaging and harming myself in the process,


From the jailhouse that you've locked me in.




                                                      ­From then on,


              You've learned a lesson,


  

And use NET instead.



                       © Earl Jane
                         ♥ E.J.C.S.

You are the fisherman and I am the trout
You cast out sweet compliments as bait
I swim around as temptation grows stronger
I take the bait and it's wonderful for a short time

Soon to find out you were just leading me on
Then stab me, when I thought you were being kind
The pain grows stronger as I try to swim away from you

You reel in my soul and collect another heart
In the end, you were the player who won the game.

ever since my childhood broke and the safety net disintegrated
I've been running and holding it high above, arms aching
in a futile attempt to stop things falling through
woven seams. Sometimes it works and I stare up,
neck burning, to the things I cannot touch.

I do not look down to the debris scattered around me,
to the failures of my braced shoulders, slipping through like water;
impacting like stones.

once I caught a fisherman; he threaded silver secrets
through twine using smiles and sympathy and I lowered my arms, to keep him alongside. There were some places he couldn't reach but
that was ok, because we ran for an eternity ensnared in each second.

it was a particularly beautiful day when I noticed him slowing,
staring out to sea, steps faltering and new smiles forming that
were not faced to me. He left me and dived headfirst, forgetting that
fisherman cannot swim. He drowned as I ran on, arms outstretched
above me as the net danced in the wind and everything fell through.

I have never stopped, never ceased these thundering steps;
my eyes are still turned to the sky, the holes in my net cast
beautiful shadows and through them I see the stars and wait impatient
for the night when they too fall.