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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
Zeleyha 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
With the face of 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
Seanathon May 2016
I am a bird beneath the waves
Though it be dark and blue and deep
My wings are not best suited to the sea

Though lofty heights are known to me
It’s beneath the waves I wish to be

To see the fish and how they breathe
Through coral and the crystalline

Though I am free
With neither cast nor current in-between
I am a bird beneath the waves
I do not belong within the sea
You've heard of a fish out of water story? Well this is the opposite. A bird in water. :p
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
Pagan Paul May 2017
.
So here I am once more, in the playground of the broken hearts.
One more experience, one more entry in a diary self-penned.
Yet another emotional suicide,
overdosed on sentiment and pride.
To late to say I love you, to late to re-stage the play.
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday'.



The first words you killed me with.
The first Script to make me cry.
The opening song on a plate of sorrow.
The opening sight of my Poets eye.

Your words soaked my childlike mind
as I lost on the roundabouts and swings.
The Jester stands with violin and quill,
composing tears on his broken strings.

I sat and chewed those daffodils
and I still struggle to answer why.
I grew up and left that playground
but its the place where my heart died.

So I never did write that love song,
My words just never seemed to flow.
The martyrs twisted smile haunts me,
my Harlequins head dreams in sorrow.

The game is over.
The game is over.

© Pagan Paul (22/05/17)
.
*First verse from the title track of 'Script for a Jesters Tear' by Marillion.
First heard this song when I was 14, I always wondered why Fish's lyrics spoke so deep with me. I only understood when I started to write poetry.
The album is their first, and the first of a trilogy that also includes Fugazi and Misplaced Childhood.
I am the Harlequin. PPx
.
Heart of Silver Jan 2018
...

I sit by a silver pool


My legs dangle in, just below the knee
so that my steps can remember where I've been
but my eyes dont have to see

And below the surface swim fish, lazy
each one holds a memory
unluckily, or lucky, they get a little hazy

I grasp at them, they swim further away
scales grazing fingertips, I watch in dismay
cause the only ones I seem to catch and devour
force my thoughts into such a disarray

I sit by a silver pool
eating painful memories
oh god, I'm such a fool
Fishes ****.
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
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
SunFlower Sep 2016
I've been plucked from the most beautiful flower people would do anything to smell, to see, to touch the softness

It hailed
ground frozen; ice bullets gravitating towards my heart
frost bites my skin
The soil no more suitable for such a beautiful delicate flower, broken at the stem, rigid and slanted
soon to decay, back into the dirt
forever ingrained within land
when the flood comes and washes all the soil amidst
struggling, barley gasping for air the water chokes me,


I squint to reveal a fish in the distance
swimming ever so smoothly, scales shiny and brilliant
imbricated as armor to a knight
strong and natural
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 ©
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
Gaius Normanyo Mar 2017
I do not want to be a fishing float
adrift on the waters of existence,
allowing myself to accept stagnation,
bobbing ever buoyant to
the ebb and flow of the mundane.
Reel me in and cast me again into living waters.
Wash away doubts and anxiety —
the fears that snag my line, my vexation.
Give me peaceful rest in fresh water
that is replenished by Your rain.
10:45 PM, 3/14/17
Inspired by a lakeside photography escape after class, the fishers that I met, and the following verses.
John 4:14
Matthew 4:19
Isaiah 45:8
Check them out sometime.
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.
Amanda Noel Jul 18
I've lost the ability to care,
Their words pierce nothing but air.

I know they've been sharpened,
looking for a reaction,
But all the stunts attempted
are deficient in trust and compassion.

I'm fed up with humans thinking
they can walk all over me.

Uncomfortable to pretend
that the dream is reality,
So I sit high in these trees,
While they swim through seas
of bitter disease,
Hunting for the perfect opportunity
to drag me under.

They misjudged the situation.
I'm a fish out of water.
They can't force me to sink,
I've developed wings.
I see this one as scenes of a story. The fish begin to see the greed and destruction in those who are progressively using more and more seemingly innocent, careless, atrocious tricks to lure in and capture fish. So, to survive and adapt in their environment the fish grow wings and relocate to the trees, watching, while the humans search through polluted waters, partaking in a vain attempt.
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
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