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Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
'Twas all so beautiful a sight,
A long summers night; The sacred stars were burning bright about our mother moon.

The wind filled the sails above the waves that sped us through the sailors tales and brought us to a deep lagoon.

We cast our nets out far and wide, then watched them sink below the tide, which rattled out a tune for me and you.

We hauled aboard the silver fish, to fill our bellies and our fists, then set off home like seagulls chirping tunes.

The wooden boat now tied about the key,
its tattered sail and rusty cleat,
tugs and tugs the rope upon the swell and gently whispers come to sea!
come to sea!
come to sea!
A little well used boat ried about a key
My sister once told me
There was an immortal jellyfish
Turritopsis dohrnii,
Its Latin name if I recall it correctly.
They revert back to their polyp stage.
Their lives beginning all over
I often think to myself
Wouldn’t that be nice
To have the power of the jellyfish

A new life from beginning to end

To have learned from my past
To make it all last
To start anew
To let go grudges, and try something new
To jump off a plane
To go to the show
To date a boy, I barely know
To a spontaneous trip to the coast
To  say goodbye to who I loved most
To make mistakes I never did
Knowing that I could start again.
Tom Spencer Jul 2018
a fish surfaces
in the creek

scattering
the moon's reflection

silver echoes
embrace the shore

and then
disappear

I fall silent
laughter settles

friends ask
what I saw


Tom Spencer © 2018
Chris Neilson Feb 2017
Fleecy tracksuit wearers
always look sheepish
large chewing cows
sometimes look bullish

Gregory Peck
is often peckish
a monopolising fishmonger
selfishly sells fish
just a bit of word play to lift the mood on this winter Saturday
Azurel Mata Oct 2018
Soft melodies of the deep sea echo
Moonlight dances on my pretty scales
And icy bubbles whirl under my vest
Through my slippery hair
And down into my lungs to clear the way for overflowing foam
Laughter splashes behind my lips as my anticipation rises
Waiting for a night of twisted fairy-tales and uncalled for surprises.

Shimmering bodies swarm in spirals
Grinding in unison with the waves crashing at the surface
We're anxious for overflowing foam and hidden treasures
Purple light pierces the dark like shards of crystals
Casting a ghostly shade on bulbous faces
Pressure rises as each wave surges
Whirlpools of hot breath suffocate our gills
But the sidelines are shallow
And stragglers float motionless

Hair like seaweed at the nape of his neck
Unbuttoned linen soaked and dripping
Her hollow eyes glow green
Like the jelly orbs of a fish under florescent lights
She’s pressed against a boy who has hooks for fins
Searching for the parts that are edible
Tender, Scale-less, Slippery
Nothing wrong with being the catch of the day
Right?

Bubbles rise and pop as the last melodies drown
Schools of us are begging for shiny hooks and bad decisions
A handsome boy has been smiling all the while
He’s caught in a fisherman’s net
Craving salty lips and the spell to make him a man
But fisherman don't care for little mermaids
With hearts like sea glass and no hidden treasures to steal

Sweaty fins splash and cheer
The fishbowl shatters
Sea glass spills out onto sand
We squirm and flop onto land
Gasping without air to breathe
As our mouths and ***** thoughts dry in the sun
Leaving behind fresh meat without mouths to feed.

Rainbow confetti was stuck in the grooves of my scales
Wet clothes left on the floor of a steamy bathroom
Gasping and moaning into tile
Who's face was a handsome stranger
Because this meat shouldn't go to waste
And I'm drunken with desperation
For overflowing foam, jewels, and shiny hooks
But I'm just another fish in the sea
Tumbling in the waves with my rainbow confetti scales.
A school dance
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Yogurt.
"I begin the day buying yogurt in a small favorite grocery store."
Not pizza, nor gatorade.

Bananas
although they are imported from afar and grown in monocultures.
Attract fruit flies in August.

Peaches
locally grown with rainwater. I ate all the farmer's peaches alone
stacking them by the railroad tracks.

Water --
rainwater, tap water, distilled water, carbonated water, spring water –--
deep gulps, infinite sips.

Nuts
in moderation, or not, unsalted, raw, replacing chips. His bowl
of filberts, almonds, walnuts quiet weekday mornings.

Edible plant parts --
roots, leaves, stems, flowers, fruit, buds. In olive oil
or butter.

Potatoes --
look online how best to prepare. Baked or fried. With a little
fish or meat.

Tea and honey,
play and prayer. Swimming and running,
talking quietly.

Bread?
Bread's possible as the Bible. Each is liable
to bloat your thoughts.

Wine and dandelions.
Dandelion wine's Ray Bradbury's story. Cans in a pantry, books on a
      shelf
to the end of time.

Pasta
we used to call spaghetti, never noodles. I wonder if I can remember
      how to make
grandma's sauce.

Tomatoes --
cherry, grape. Grab God's eye
going by.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Akira Chinen Jul 2016
What if the sun was a fish of golden flame
What then would the moon reflect
Would the earth be a bubble
Would space be a sea
What would become of
All this human misery
If the sun was a fish
With fins of fire
Swimming here and there
Going wherever it did please
Would the moon be a minnow
Forever bound to follow
Would the earth be a dream
Would god be the water
Would the devil be the worm
Would love be free to swim
Without fear of aches and pains
Without mans clumsy hands
To break the heart
Of the sun swimming
With golden fins ablaze
Anywhere and everywhere
And never ever
Ever
Would love be
Touched by our
Human misery
Willow Dec 2018
Fish:

You come in all forms and shapes,
In   all   imaginable   colours  and   shades,
Larger      than      some     ships     you      find, Smaller    than    a    thimble    of   any     kind,

You  can  ­ live   in   every   place   with  water,
Deeper     then     where     light    will     falter,
Or  high  enough  to  see  the  sun  light,
But sometime you are not in sight,

Some     of     you     are
really    beautiful,
You       make
aquariums      look      full,
Some   of   you   are   just   divine,
Alysia Marie Nov 2014
Inside of your mind and body
A numbing occurs
You feel shallow

So shallow

Like a lowering tide
As if the oceans will dry up
Forcing you and the fish to choke on air

But at least you'll have something in common

                                        Alysia Marie 2014 ©
Andrew Aug 2017
Your advice
Is my vice
And you continue to add vices
And you swim like mad pisces
Through my stream of thoughts
With all the lessons you taught
From all the advice you brought
So I avoid your glance
To not give you the chance
To see the results of our fishdance
Or how much my life has been enhanced
Until I begin to flounder
As those pisces become piranha
Feeding on other considerations
And growing colossal
Until your kraken is in my mind
Cracking up my mind
Stacking up the time
It takes to get out of bed
As I trust the tentacles that tie me down
To a life floating on the surface
Of an ocean
Where the fish burn like a furnace
And I watch the water evaporate
Like the advice on which you elaborate
As the advice that was once there
Is currently water vapor in the air
As I start to think of us as a pair
From inside my secret underwater lair
That is the cavern of my mind
Where a school of fish
Teach me how to live and die
Eva Aloezos Aug 2018
Humans combat darkness
with a fierce shining light,

be a dear,
mind the kite
on the lawn

remember to never fawn
remain a velvet diamond swan

minuscule rule books,
manuals and instructions
everything has lost it’s primary function

approaching the junction
of old age

love all the strange
admire the good
live life as you should,
vitality fused with change

all the spirits will find their way back to the realm of justice

live into your twilight years, as you wish!
settle in, with a dreamy bowl of fish
Charming Blather Oct 2017
one time i went to the lake and i saw many dead carp fish lining the sides of the ocean
their big mouths lay open, gaping ways to their bloated bodies
i hated seeing that and their
collection of scales:
blue and or maybe silver lining scales
orbiting, having
fallen off with the push of the stagnant water,
the loosening of cells from the massive host.
sans screens Mar 2018
In school I was told that I was small,
I was portrayed as a gold fish who lived in a small tank,
Like a small fish who was scared to jump to a larger one,
They failed to notice, fish can’t breath while they jump.

In school I was told that I was lazy,
I was displayed as if I were taking the easier path,
They failed to notice I was an A straight student,
Only I couldn’t be happy in such a squared larger tank.

Two years have passed and I am not lazy, nor small,
The fish has grown, and it is indeed gold,
But it doesn’t jump, it swims and flies,
They failed to notice, we are not made out of a mould.
He
fished
a dream
in his sleep.
He caught a **** star.
For his cast had a lot of whip,
stretching his limit and rod as far as it can go.
When the rush of a bite sent him reeling he screamed for dear life as his catch jumped ahead.

Logan Robertson

1/14/2019
Fibonacci :  1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21...1 syllable, 1 syllable, 2 syllables, 3 syllables, 5 syllables, 8 syllables, 13 syllables, 21 syllables. For a total of 8 lines. Your writer is having fun in dreamland as the counting of sheep on this night came with a twist.
CK Baker Jan 2018
who lit the candles
placed eloquently
behind purple rock?
the sculpted radiance,
chapel grace
wound in a chosen
defined way
down the spiral
stone stairs

street cars dawdle
alongside
the packer slew
biding merchants
and frontmen
shuffle their wares
as the madman
and pock face
sing their
holy blues

cut jazz echoes
over the accompanying
gabble and drone
incense and haze
pour from
a lower trap door
sack fish, truffles
and splendid crafts shine
inside the stained glass fronts

a wide mouth snapper
with a bloated tongue
greets the
morning tide
(not camera shy
in the least!)
the fish traps
and beaneries
bring life
to the flourishing causeway

hula hoops
and ballers
join the
cobaine stage
favoured rogues
and mac jacks
speak easy
of the big daddy

beth’s triple by pass
taking firm hold on
tricky ****
and the nutcracker
maze ways,
taggers and
lost tunnels
of cu chi
strike a
nerving blow

a poised finger man
belts out his tune
(with a sniff sock
and iterating glare)
his nosey neighbors
cut artisan bread
(with a white wine
and jelly spread)
midwives push forward
for an afternoon
toddle and stroll
Fish  of many colour
Bubbly and sprightly
Princes and princesses of the river
Move in geometric patterns
Up and down the stream
Schooled by the elders
Not to venture out in the dark
And end up as a dinner of the shark

Sneaky the little ones
Break the rules of the school

Fish O Fish
They
Watch the shark pass by
Duck under the big rock
And giggle under their breath
Making puddles of bubbles

Caught in the dark
By the elders of the clan
Reprimanded for their conduct
And brought back to school

A school of fish
No more unruly
Swim in geometric pattern serene
Up and down the stream
Donall Dempsey Aug 2018
EVERY LITTLE FISH CAN SWIM

1893
saw the beginning of me.

I was born
in a railway carriage

between somewhere
and somewhere else

in an Europe that
would change with the map

the lines redrawn
by War

some unpronouncable
European nowhere.

A barrel *****
was playing a tune that

would soon be forgotten
on the station platform

when Mamma and I
arrived

at our final destination
the train breathing like a dragon.

Its whistle
cutting through time.

Later I would remember
a little wooden acorn

at the end of a string on the blind
tapping against the window

as if it were admonishing
the dawn demanding

entrance to
the room when I was three and

pulling the blind up and then
pulling the blind down.

"Shadow people"
thrown against the wall

would not survive
a morning.

All night they chattered
amongst themselves

prowling the room
that was holding me.

Debating whether to
eat me now or later.

"Beings" merely made from
the edge of a wardrobe or

a chest of drawers
the brass **** at the end of

my bed where clothes
thrown over a chair

made them come alive
I believe

in them until
I was nearly seven.

Too scared to ***
in the porcelain ***

wetting the bed
to the anger of Mama.

And now 1963
will more than likely see

the end of me
as I am

and the mind
that created who I was

offers me these
fragments of insignificance

that amount
to being a life.

I laugh as Noël  
Coward warbles

in his shellac'd world
forever singing

"But I can't do anything at all
but just love you!"
I used to look after this chap who loved Coward as much as I and we would sing all the songs together as I cleaned him up or fed him. He showed me his Dad's diary and the last entry was basically this...so I thought it deserved not to fade away so I wanted to bring him back to a life in words!

Any Little Fish – Noel Coward 1931

Any little fish can swim, any little bird can fly
Any little dog and any little cat
Can do a bit of this and just a bit of that
Any little horse can neigh, any little cow can moo
But I can’t do anything at all, but just love you!

Any little **** can crow, any little fox can run,
Any little crab on any little shore
Can have a little dab and then a little more
Any little owl can hoot (to-whit, to-whoo)
Any little dove can coo
But I can’t do anything at all, but just love you!

Any little bug can bite, any little bee can buzz
Any little snail on any little oak
Can feel a little frail and have a little joke
Any little frog can jump like any little kangaroo
But I can’t do anything at all, but just love you!

Any little duck can quack, any little worm can crawl
Any little mole can frolic in the sun
And make a little hole and have a lot of fun
Any little snake can hiss, in any little local zoo
But I can’t do anything at all, but just love you!
harley r noire Jul 2018
lone fish in the lake
lost faith in its feeble fins
and then gone for aye
another haiku. at least i tried. the prompt of a writing challenge on LINE told me to write with fish on it, so this happened.
CK Baker Feb 2017
late night by the holland sill
white framed and frilled
alongside the meadow
down by the grand
where cat fish
and cow pies
and silly yellow bees
make their stay

there are swings now
and an empty barn
(with quiet corners
and broken walls)
echoing chambers
that speak to the past
...and little dogs
not big ones

the plaster cracks
and wheat sways
from a warm west wind
it’s about time
for that late afternoon pour
you know how it cleans the soul
old percy would say

and flanders
the holder of those pigs
who fed us good
with sow and milk
as we plowed the
dusty fields
into the
hot summer sun

i can still hear the screams
of river dreams
the grand slams
and flints run dry
the barks
and breaks
and bends
a world past
with forbes
and dolls
and crab apple trees

think i’ll take a trip
up the back lane

they’ve cut the brush
and opened the line
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2018
The world with the heart
is the most beautiful place.
Without it its a fish
out of the water.

The question is
to be or not to be
with the heart!
Alan Maguire May 2018
Fish Child make a wish Child upon a falling pig.he's got short fluffy fur and comes from the starry south
and like a wild Bolivian boar has a truffle sniffing snout

He's got six golden trotters
and possesses a squiggly tale
relishes red meat and guzzles down all American ale

he answers to the name Burrito's and he grumple's in his sleep
and he often dreams of visiting the Earths deepest deep.
So, Fish Child make a wish Child upon a falling pig
Callie Richter Jul 2018
it’s been 5 months
and he must still
find my name sweet.
dead fish,
that’s what he called me.
said i just layed there
and it was the worst
he’d ever had.
maybe if i just layed there,
i was too drunk.
maybe if I just layed there,
i wasn’t ready.
maybe if I just layed there,
you should’ve taken me home.
telling people this
was your mistake,
because you also told people
that i was the one that
got you drunk
and ***** you.
but honey
how could that be true
if you say that
i was the dead fish
and you were fully aware.
Poetic T Feb 9
I swim in your ocean,
   but I always taste fish.


The ocean needs a wash.
MJL Mar 19
Optics, said the fish
I swim
You watch
Babe
Stop looking at me
I’m busy
I don’t have time for your petting gaze
I’m working here, man
****, it’s hot in here
This riveting?
I’ll tell you what's riveting
Watching you tap on the glass
Babe
Here's a bubble,
You got it wrong
I'm a bird
And I'm gonna blow
Kidding
I’m a fish
Tap on the glass again and I swear
You're still staring
Man
Clean the freakin' bowl
This cave *****
Under the microscope, babe.
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