"fishers" poems
beauty upon a delicate creature
innocent young brown eyed girl
perfection bestowed in every feature
every fishers’ catch, shining pearl
perfect from day one
yet she couldn’t see
skinny must be done
perfect then she’ll be
the world was her oyster
everything granted within smile
yet beauty was a destroyer
sudden death of a child
sold the devil her soul
fantasy turned to reality
one’s life desirable goal
perfect she’ll finally be
deceived by image in mirror
years of starvation to the bones
glass of ugliness suddenly clearer
lost completely from her homes
harmful inability to love
all of the world but herself
time revealed a life
truly better than this
repetitive periods of recovery
one’s wish irreversible
beauty uplifted the misery
weight eventually stable
one thousand four hundred sixty days
hidden silent all these years
one thousand four hundred sixty ways
held back brown eyed tears
her name was sydney rose
the girl who suffers with anorexia
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 7:38 PM UTC
SLAP! The graceful whale whacks her tale on the pristine water.
SLUMP! The pod of dolphins flow down in the water.
SLOOP-GLOOP! Breath bubbles soar up to the top of the water.
SHHH! Fishers cast their lines into the deep, clear, water.
SMIP-SMIP! The bats of the seahorses’ tails fling through the blue, blue water.
SLIP! The green, blue water flows through rocks and moss.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
I asked the heaven of stars
What I should give my love—
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.
I asked the darkened sea
Down where the fishers go—
It answered me with silence,
Silence below.
Oh, I could give him weeping,
Or I could give him song—
But how can I give silence,
My whole life long?
2k
My word, that's a gut wrenching cry
you have there, monsieur le coq
A piercing horn-of-plenty rant
that causes the stars to retreat
No wonder St Peter repented
Is that cackle-raising to rouse those
who give their all for ghosts in machines?
Or does that siren you summon
quicken earthbound worms
early bird fishers of men
are after?
Chef de partie stirs his cuppacino dreams
Bulging pajamas shapeshift
as he turns, chomps his jowels
and salivates *Long live Chicken a la King
Sharpen my knife*
Oct 12, 2009
Oct 12, 2009 at 9:19 AM UTC
Expecting two wrongs to make a right.
Always ending up in a controversial fight.
Once brothers and sisters, hand-in-hand.
Now benevolent, immoral and divided we stand.
Pointing fingers at the ones who speak Gods word.
Accusations of intolerance, as their words go unheard.
'Thou shalt not judge" is our new favorite line.
Never picked up a bible, but that verse sounds fine.
Picking and choosing what we want ourselves to hear.
Overwhelmed with uncertainty and plagued by fear.
Twisting Gods words to suit our sin.
Becoming charmers of the flesh, rather than fishers of men.
Making ample lies out of such divine truth.
While sabotaging the future of our demoralized youth.
Blaming a God we now deny,
Cursing the heavens and wondering why.
If God's a God of love why would He leave?
Like we're some sort of dirt brushed off from His sleeve.
He hasn't left, nor turned His back,
We're the ones who got off track.
Following our own paths to a realm of unknown.
Creating our own world, trying to make it all alone.
Forgetting who was created for who.
Not You for us, but we for You. ©
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Rise, brothers, rise, the wakening skies pray
to the morning light,
The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn
like a child that has cried all night.
Come, let us gather our nets from the shore,
and set our catamarans free,
To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for
we are the sons of the sea.
No longer delay, let us hasten away in the
track of the sea-gull's call,
The sea is our mother, the cloud is our brother,
the waves are our comrades all.
What though we toss at the fall of the sun
where the hand of the sea-god drives?
He who holds the storm by the hair, will hide
in his breast our lives.
Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade, and
the scent of the mango grove,
And sweet are the sands at the full o' the
moon with the sound of the voices we love.
But sweeter, O brothers, the kiss of the spray
and the dance of the wild foam's glee:
Row, brothers, row to the blue of the verge,
where the low sky mates with the sea.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
I am not privileged
I’d rather be a poor fishers kid
I carry the burden of having to make it
I carry the burden to follow social norm
I carry the burden of suits and schedules,
of walking in straight lines.
We lie to ourselves when we call the western world privileged
These exact privileges are what makes us miserable
I’d rather be a poor fishers kid
I’d rather fish and gather my food everyday
Like we pray for
I’d rather enjoy nature every day
But instead we call ourselves privileged
When all we do is chase shiny objects
without realising what slips away
We call the western world free but no one really is
I’d rather be a poor fishers kid
I’d rather wake with the tide
I’d rather cast my net
than chase a clock.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 1:55 PM UTC
at dawn, the shoreline:
waxed and waned and always there,
crawling towards the moon
light on the breakers.
a dull roar and sand grains spin
weary, angry foam
until it is gone
and the sun comes out and the
fishers' lines are full.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
I Had A Dream To Become
I had a dream of you Jehovah ;
Holding my hand ,Talking to me about
Life's pains that I was in ,
I was crying because I was I'll of some kind
You Oh Jehovah ;
You have taken your hand and whipped
Away each tear that had fallen from my eyes
My heart was filled with compassion for your
Love for humankind ,
You Jehovah opened my eyes to see ,
Yes, spiritually bound by Satan and helpless
Or the loss in their way of the night , Sicken
By the night of not living right ;
To even see their tragic dilemma even mine,
Oh how my spirit started to pray for them, and
For all mankind ; I even prayed for my life ;
For Jehovah to take full control , and led the way
For me to go ,
Jehovah and our Lord Jesus ;
Deliver me and all mankind from this ******* that
We are in ;have mercy for each of the lost souls
To make their way back home ;
Break these bindings of Satan’s work, Take his sick
Hands of his ***** works off of each one of us and
Let Us live a life to be Fisher Of Men ,
I suddenly felt confident that Jehovah God heard me,
As he looked at me why I was sleeping ;
I heard his voice say to me You are free from your
Sickness ;Go teach others what You know to save souls
The ******* that I was in has been broken,
So go and teach the world of my ''Kingdom'' ,and
My ''Love'', For the lost souls ,Clean your ways and walk
In the light of Jehovah God and you will gain ''Everlasting Life'',
So pick up your things and walk and become ''Fishers Of Man ''.
Poetic Judy Emery © 1980
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 12:29 PM UTC
There'd only plundering be;
If all of us were wolves,
No sheep could flee....
Oh, the pirate's life for thee.
And the pirate's life for me,
And the world were all in flames,
And the world were all in flames.
If everyone were pirates,
Why, villains all we'd be,
And every deck-born swab
Would glower at you and me
With our laces and our kerchiefs,
And our killer pirate wigs
As we stormed across the continents and seas;
As we stormed across the continents and seas.
And good men, none, would live their lives,
With the gentling help of their good wives;
And children, all, would yell and terrorize,
Chasing down the nursemaid with the kitchen knives.
If everyone were pirates,
No farmers, and no fishers on the beach,
No bakers, and no soldiers continental,
No doctors, and no teachers left to teach,
No preachers and no sermons for to preach,
But only pirates coming up the streets...
But only pirates coming up the streets.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 5:21 AM UTC
Long hair, black as night
Silhouette illuminated by cigarette smoke
A statue of pure rivalry
Between her wasted days
Hands caught between a fishers net
Red hot acid flowing through the blood
Turned ripe from the golden age
And bitter disdain
The poison spreads like smoke
Out of every dying breath
The world coated in her corruption
If death was a woman, have mercy on me
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 7:43 PM UTC
The lovers passionate tryst,
occurred beneath the moons feint reign,
by the reflective ripples of the river,
'neath the shivering oaks leafy canopy,
'ere the land is simple,
'ere the lovers meet.
One such fair maiden
from the highest house of noble,
married to the tyrant,
the slovenly old fool,
Youthful betrothal from a fathers greed.
One noble peasant,
poor, and rugged in appearance,
from the fishers family,
madly in love with the maiden
he abstains from all others
just for her and all his affections
are for her, only her.
So in secret these two meet,
night after night,
where the law has no reign,
where the land is free,
much like their love
in this the lover sacred
secret place.
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC
I threw my darkness in a well
One wish, I'll never tell
The flick of a thumb
Splash, dream currency
An afterthought,
I walk with no shadow
Ominous spectres melt
Into the ripples of the deep
Quarters, nickles, dimes
Reflect the hopes of fishers
Casting out their demons
Cutting the line, thats a day
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 1:28 PM UTC
Like clockwork each day
Near the edge
Of the bay
A little old man arrives
He sits down in the grass
Watches boaters fly past
And fishers go on
With their lives
All around the people
Rush about in a hurry
Without a word or even
A stare
To a man with scarred skin
Papered over weak bone
Deep wrinkles
And snowy white hair
His name is James
Though I’m sure you don’t care
But once was a time it meant something
Somewhere
The war has been won
History left it behind
Yet it continues to play
Inside of James’ mind
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
by the gleam of idols,
governed,
minds’ defied;
no sanctuary
untouched
by their guise
disguising love as god;
a masquerading truth,
entailed with
the cycle
of the moon.
around and around
the shepherds lead
lost souls,
hung on hooks
by fishers of men
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
Snowy egrets, pure,
Stoic, white statues of grace,
Digging in the muck.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
By the river I meandered .
Ducks quacked their racket.
Accompanied in harmony by female child.
The sound in tune with nature's perfect bloom.
Moorhen drifted over water.
Dipped his head then he was gone.
Dogs ran in unison together.
Different breeds as one.
Having so much fun.
Dogs spread their bark all over the park.
As bark flakes off from the trees.
The willows crudely wept their tears.
And the Poplars only trembled more.
Got to the spot of our dragon fly.
Nobody's here.
All that's here are memories.
River's still not got much of a flow.
Her water's flowing mud and silt.
Fishers still stand on the Sunday bank.
Depositing nothing but lines.
And here am I stood on the spot.
Where this poem first began.
Where for a brief moment.
I was your woman
For another brief moment.
You were my man.
In eloquent silence I stand.
Watching the world go by.
Conversing with the naked trees.
Bare and exposed like me.
There's a chill here in this place.
It's felt in my words as they kiss my face.
Sat on the fence as I muse.
As me, myself, and I amuse.
The litter of displaced leaves on the ground.
Memories lost.
Memories found.
Too chilly to rest by the stream.
With a heart so chilled indeed.
And now the pub calls and I'm going for dinner.
Eaten now.
I stopped and bade our spot goodbye.
Homeward bound with a tear in my eye,
Watching two ducks having a row.
Perhaps those ducks were you and I!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
We dine off of hearts
goaded from the sea.
Hearts drawn to dead promise
and
cold hooks.
The gills
taste metallic
and the flesh is sweet
with mercury.
The haul is yanked overboard,
and the tuna fly
like angels of vengeance
to our dinner tables
where wine
condenses the poisoned bodies
into forkfulls
of pleasure.
The meat is sweeter
than anything we have ever tasted,
we hope that it puts us to sleep.
Not wanting to ****
or cherish
the bones of each other's bodies
has led us to gorge
on these fish,
these harbingers
of comas
that we are too awake
to realize
are the dreams of the stars
filtered through the
diamond-studded
rollers of the Pacific.
The blue and cold Pacific
it pumps out
the fuel for restaurants.
Restaurants
where we gnash our teeth silently
against oily meat.
Restaurants
where I have a drink
and you have a drink
and we have our fill
on vicarious oceans
that decay in the parties
of our bellies.
Tonight we will sleep
because we are drunk
with poisoned meat.
Robbed meat.
Catastrophic
is the grinder of your mouth.
A goaded heart
is an atomic bomb
and we have our fills on them.
Until we no longer want to ****
The mercury
courses.
The waiter
dashes back and forth.
The cook
slices and dices.
The fishers haul in a line
ten-ton lines of bycatch.
All for a single forkful
of the most sugary
thing
two people can share
when their bodies
are useless
and wheezing for the oxygen
of a purified love.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 12:07 AM UTC
I don't like the feel of the moisture that hangs in the air,
The heaviness of humidity like a film coating my skin.
long and winding roads between trees soon to be cut by the hands of man,
Rivers to be violated by curious fishers and children.
It fills me with tranquility yet anxiousness to know somethting so beautiful will be destroyed.
These looming trees,
The aging moss,
The rolling hills occupied by the tall grass rolling with the wind like on-shore waves.
I can breathe but I can't,
An unveiling curtain covering my eyes as I yearn for some sanctity amongst these trees.
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 2:00 PM UTC
Snowy egrets, pure,
Stoic, white statues of grace,
Digging in the muck.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
Snowy egrets, pure,
Stoic, white statues of grace,
Digging in the muck.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
The yellow light illuminated our pale faces, it’s cold but not too cold, and we’re on the roof of a parking garage and everything feels like a movie. We don’t look at each other. We’re too busy staring into the empty space that occupies the air around us. I want to go up to you and hold your hand. I want to make the space feel less empty. You are shivering, as your black hair blends into the sky. The drugs made your face look really different. It's not how I remembered it. It is silent to both of us. We are too lost in the beauty of it all. The sounds of the cars, the people, everything is drowned out when we are with each other. We don’t think about the college rejection letters, the job applications, the things that make our lives real. I hope you forget about her like you forgot about yourself. I hope it brings you the peace you need. I want it to be like this forever. I walk over to you and lay my head on your shoulder, as we watch the cars drive off into the Fishers sky. Everything seems to be drifting farther and farther away from us. I am scared.
We love eachother but we don’t.
It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
And i think that scares me the most
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
Wild weary wanderer come to me rest your heavy head
Tired hungry travelers all come to the table and be fed
When the burden is too heavy and the load too much to bear
Stay with me and know just how much I care
Come give me your doubts and worries and fears
Be assured I will answer and that I am all ears
Listen now, be still and hear the whisper faintest voice
Earnestly I seek you I call your response is a choice
Come Saint come sinner come young and old
The ends of the earth and the four winds are the flock of my fold
Come together in love and unity
Strive for greater peace and harmony
Out of the many we find a place all as one
Together turning from darkness and learning to face the sun
In a beautiful family so many strong
All find a place they can belong
There is a peace and love far beyond compare
To which, when exposed, you cannot help but share
Caught up in the world there is never enough time to do
Because it was not for the purpose of doing that I created you!
I created you for love, with love, in love from the dawn of creation
You see, I created you to be: be with others and with me in right relation
You are my children and I love you more than you can conceive
Enter into the song, join in the feast, receive and come to believe
Sense the love coursing alive and warm through your veins
In the final analysis love has won; only love remains.
You who are lost, you who have found
You who are seeking find your feet on sacred solid ground
Here there is a place of truth and light
Light a blazing beacon in the blackest night
Here is a place of refreshment and rest
Here I take you in my arms and hold you close to my chest
I have written my name upon your heart burned my word into your mind
In the Father Son and Holy Spirit you have been SIGNED
Just relax and try to let go of the ill you feel
Let me in and slowly begin to heal
I have set my SEAL upon your heart I have marked you as my own
From now on you will never be alone
I died to conquer sin and death and so DELIVER
Life in abundance and healing river
So SIGNED SEALED and DELIVERED now I SEND
Send you out to be fishers of men
You are mine and I AM YOURS
Always and forever from present day to eternity's shores
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 4:19 PM UTC
Look man
I know life
It seems pretty bleak.
We all like
To jest
And make each-other
Look weak.
You've joined in too,
Please don’t deny,
You’re saying I’m blue
And of the bickering kind.
Well I think that’s just rude,
Although a bit true,
That you've just assumed
That I miss loving blooms
In warm summers
Breezing lovely songbird tunes.
Just let me say:
I love the Thrushes,
Finches, and Jays.
King Fishers
Fishing all day.
You see?
I hear songbird tunes.
Now won’t you tell me
That you've heard some too?
Have I told you of the seasons?
Fall endings, winters blue,
And spring’s tree sons?
Please and thank you.
I love that you've given me a reason.
It’s not like people love to share words,
Through and through,
Like season's turn
From orange
To red
To blues
And green's hue.
I’m not trying to bicker,
Or be slicker,
I just like to snicker
And be jocund or lesser.
So thank you for the inspiration
From your modest interpretation
Of the infinitely doubtful implications you see
When others debate on philosophy,
The abstract, the riddles, trite jests, even
The summer breeze and society.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
Snowy egrets, pure,
Stoic, white statues of grace,
Digging in the muck.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC