"plaice" poems
Alligator! Alligator! Alligator! Alligator!
Bite me whole and take me to space.
Staple my **** and spaz my face,
Plaice defrosting in the refrigerator.
These things all seem to come together,
Throw them far apart will be for the better.
I hate this ******* verse,
‘cos it all rhymed from Alligator!
Mar 19, 2010
Mar 19, 2010 at 3:57 PM UTC
Deer loved one
Please bear with me,
owl bee with ewe as soon as possum bull.
Rhino that things have been on paws lately
bat remember I toad you;
Toucan always find me some plaice warm in your heart
if I'm not lion there beside you.
Giraffe nothing to fear, no one can break the lynx we've made.
Mine is a love that'll never panda, narwhal it
hound any other sole but jaws and yours alone.
You're the porpoise I wake up every morning.
Wren all otter things are bleak, you're my ray of sunshine.
You let minnow weevil always have each other.
With you, newt time passes but stops still.
Love you with vole of my heart
ant i'll never desert you.
Until hen Gobi good
Yours truly
...
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 6:40 PM UTC
Golden sand tickling your toes
Pebbles gleaming, glistening, slushing
When the tide comes back to shore.
Sand dunes hiding wildlife,
Multitudes of migratory birds,
Safely returning every year to
This beautiful, marshy paradise.
Skies so orange, pink and red,
An artists palette of natural art
Greet you at sunrise and sunset.
***** kippers, cod and plaice
Shrimps, cockles and whelks,
Mushy, minty peas and chips,
The show at the end of the pier.
The lifeboats and their hardy crew
Risking their lives to save others,
When visitors run into trouble
At the mercy of the cold North Sea.
Crumbling coastlines, cliff walks
And nature reserves full of the
Scent of wild garlic and herbs,
Norfolk lavender. Steam engines,
Fishing boats, river boats,
Paddling boats and cycles
Take you on journeys
Around the Broads or
Past the famous Castles.
Tigers and leopards peer
Through the bars of their
Zoo homes by the sea.
Easterly winds that bite your
Fingers as they whistle and
Howl through the City.
Guest houses closed for
The winter as you stroll
The lonely promenades
Breathing in the air.
Queen Bodicea, Normans,
Vikings and Romans all
Marched through this
Historical landscape
And yet we remain
Stalwart and strong
Proud of our heritage,
Our roots, our birthplace
There's only one place
Better than Norfolk,
And that's the
Beautiful Ozarks.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
One Turbot says to the other "do you believe in Cod?"
The other replies " I think we each know a Sole". "I believe one day when the chips are down and we are at our most battered we will each know a Plaice and we are destined to fillet".
They exchanged a glance and swam away.... just for the Halibut.
I hope my Whiting doesn't offend. Remember believers.... believe in Cod and one day you will be Prawn again.
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 12:42 PM UTC
And when I take in this air
The wind mirrors
The currents underneath me.
We're made of the same
Un-cut-able energy.
These under-waves that breathe
In Blooming aneurisms,
Like a great heart
Caught in the rhythm of the moon
And it's steady eyelid.
We are but capsules of this movement
On loan from the ocean.
Void-mother, salt nirvana
Breathing alongside us
And through our many faces.
Deep, hungry, all consuming black,
As the only affront to the abyss.
Her maelstrom-stomach
Now spitting wood and bottles
At the shore.
Before the inversion of her,
Loosening her keen grip on life
She settled to exist in scars
Pounding rhythm into the shore
And singing in many voices.
That masculine sun
Holding her flat, rejecting advancements,
Falls in their dance
And cannot cover her turning.
He flees the storms.
She swallows electric
Giving light to the deeper life
The great glowing thuds returned
She’s waking hearts to contain a fury,
She's making music into movement into us.
And from the movements,
Bubbles take the warmth up
Past the gaze of colossal ones
Living their lives as silhouettes.
Past caryatids in the black,
With curious eyes,
Holding up sponge-lined trenches
Threaded with eels.
Past the sand bed stretches
Thick with silt-eating things
Relishing the mud
That rises on the corners of rocks.
Past a plaice's eye
Which Crawls across his face,
In his short puberty,
Looking for dangerous shadows.
Delicate bubbles turn
Their pressured skins
Up through water currents,
To come burst at my feet,
And in the millionth morning
That comes into its opening
I am rocked like a child
In the movement I’m made of.
So I can just look forward
At the sun-blink.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
It was all going pretty well, infact very well if i had to be pushed....
but then i started to realise happiness is just an ilusion born in the fabric of the mind and thats when it all started to go terribly, partly because my legs are very wobbley there like jelly really (probs strawberry flavour) but more importantly where the hell are golden grahams they say they were cancelled because of the salt but it wasnt there fault they were taken away so young but at least we know theyve gone to a better place, theyve gone to live in the sea with the plaice (im going for the worst poem ever written can you tell :)).......i think i love you so i wrote it in a card you replied i think you mentle but i think we should just be freinds :( (that bits not true *** i dont know who you are :D) right back to the poem infact il start a new one :).
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 4:59 AM UTC
Under the overhang with my hand in the frying pan
I am tickling trout,
making them laugh and pulling them out,but
the bailiff gives a stiff warning and says,
'don't be here in the morning'
A trout with a smile on its face is as good as a bird in the hand,at my place there's a plaice,they can play catch me can, 'til they're battered and fried with chips at the side.
I am tickling trout with my hand in the pan,the tide's going out,the time's getting thin,the bailiffs about and I know it's a sin but it's fun.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
Cats upon a summer’s day
lying indolently down,
black and white, and silver-grey,
tabby, golden, ginger, brown,
on the catmint sprawled at ease,
breathing its sublime aroma,
shape their visions as they please
in a slumbrous catmint-coma.
Lands with rivers full of cream
stuffed with every kind of fish,
trout and salmon, plaice and bream,
fresh-cooked on a silver dish;
Cushion-trees with leaves of silk,
if a cat should seek repose,
overhang the Lake of Milk
where Roast-Chicken Forest grows.
Lean and hungry mogs and toms
grow to an enormous fatness
where nor dog nor human comes
to disturb their perfect Catness.
Dreaming in the afternoon
with closed eyes and folded paws,
cats regain their wits, and soon
they unsheathe their polished claws.
When the sun between the trees
stripes the lawn with blacks and golds,
tiger-cats, with guileful ease
prowl among the marigolds.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
Heaven takes away your sorrow
A place for hero's
Hell loves sorrow
Sinners in an
Inferno
Heaven or Hell
I guess time will tell
Heaven will never leave you out in the cold
Hell, hot, so I have been told
Heaven or Hell
I guess time will tell
Heaven will sooth the soul
Hell, nothing but a big burning hole
Heaven or Hell
I guess time will tell
Heaven will set you free
Hell you will want to flee
Heaven or Hell
I guess time will tell
Heaven, the pearly white gates
Hell, nothing but charcoal awaits
Heaven or Hell
I guess time will tell
Heaven full of Christians
Hell full of people that would not listen
Heaven or Hell
I guess time will tell
Heaven a place I would stay
Hell a plaice I will stay away
I guess time will tell
!!
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC