Best Bream Poems
My mind to arms to hands to oars to lake
I cleave the sunrise glass-like surface, still
With just my lonely friend, a mallard drake
Thus set adrift, my thoughts, upon the wake
So buoyed by the breath of morning's chill ...
Oh, how I long to know the somber deep
To let my weary soul sink with the bream
But I have many vows that I must keep
My web-toed friend and I have loves to reap
And many lochs to row before we dream ...
Yes, many lochs to row ... before we dream.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Standard Contest Number 135 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Rhyme Time II" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor.
Categories:
bream, appreciation, life, nature, self,
Form:
Rhyme
From his bottle, Grandpa took a sip.
I gazed sleepily at his bottle ship.
Grandpa said that life could be so cruel.
Grandma said, your grandpa is a fool.
Grandpa ran his mouth from his chair and
Grandma said he always runs a fool's errand.
Grandpa said he sought the Holy Grail,
but he came up empty without fail.
Grandpa's poured out tales, an ocean deep.
The bottle ship, soon gone, and I, asleep.
Soon, I was a fisherman in a dream,
fishing for happiness in a saltwater bream,
The bream said, "I'll give you a little tip -
happiness. through your hands, will always slip".
I tried to catch freedom in a sailing fish,
but he flew away, along with that futile wish.
So, I tried to catch tuna, the fish of truth,
and came up with just a fallacy of youth.
Next I looked for beauty in the marlin,
but she put me down, "take a hike, darlin".
The fish of justice, my next angling goal,
took money while reading from a scroll.
Ah, so money must be the fish to grab -
but, sick and unloved, I picked up the tab.
Every fish and thing I strived for was a joke,
and one by one they all went up in smoke.
All the fish in my dream were just a school
to teach that searching is the errand of a fool.
When I awoke, my Grandpa, too, was snoring,
Grandma said, "to himself, he's even boring".
I decided then, I would make my life at sea -
to catch anything, there'd be no guarantee.
I don't know anything worth anything anyway,
except the ocean's sand and salty spray.
Categories:
bream, fish, grandparents, life, sea,
Form:
Rhyme
Upon these placid waters the wind blows fair,
bream chase waves tossed by boats here, and there,
Crimson vessels slice through crest,
giving channel cats time to rest,
Blue herons walk along picking through perch nest,
murmuring bull frogs make their best rain calls,
Some white owl makes nightly squalls,
using nothing more than stars to light his way,
Mystical mighty cypress trees sway big, and tall,
they too seem to have something to say to all...
For contest 179
Categories:
bream, nature, peace,
Form:
Light Verse
Heavily laden boats, rectangular sails billowing
Under seas of low cloud, braving the fierce Yangtze;
Held between snowcapped mountains, earth and sky
Indistinguishable from steaming mist and rolling fog;
A long drawn straggle of Grey Geese plummeting down
From breathless, rarefied air to stumble awkwardly onto
Plum coloured mudbanks; an unrestrained, excitable
Cacophony of frenzied honking! Then wild monkeys
Provoked into howling each side of the river.
There, at the juncture with Longjin Brook, stilted homes,
Half-hidden by bamboo groves, crouch at the waters
Edge; maidens will come to wash clothes
Whirling wooden batons, twittering like golden swallows;
Fragrant wildflowers enhance their sweetness.
At drab, pale, first-morning light, fishermen cast
Nets over the cooling, placid blue waters;
The fish that swim here are said to be the finest
In the province.
We will exchange Black Carp and Blunt-Snout Bream,
Wrapped in moist bamboo leaf, for glutinous rice
With the clans that tend the terraces inside the fertile
River valley...
Does not the Emperor insist upon good commerce?
If you are dissatisfied as a peasant
You can take the ancient "old tea horse road"
And burden your back with heavy bales stacked high
On a rail;
The road will take you all the way from Zigui
To Tibet...or even further perhaps,
And sombre ravens will soar overhead and taunt your
Every footstep.
But I will remain where I am, in the
Village On The Water
Nestled deep within the Three Gorges;
My life, the endless horizon stretched beyond,
Held in balance as if it were Shaseng
The Shadow Play Stone;
And each new morning awakening to slow,
Chiming bells.
Categories:
bream, appreciation, environment, winter,
Form:
Free verse
There's plastic in the ocean
Plastic in the sea
There's plastic in the boatyard
Plastic in the bay
There's plastic in the gut of a turtle
Plastic in a mantaray
There's plastic in a gilt-head bream
Plastic in it's prey
There's plastic in a Landfill
Plastic in a seagull
There's plastic in the foodchain
Plastic in our DNA
Categories:
bream, earth, earth day, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
I love Africa, my beautiful Africa
I can roam in the bushes
I can run up the mountains
Down the valleys
Across the plains
Or get lost in the forests
Or the caves
I can soak the sun
On the sand at the beach
Or bake in the desert sun
Until I should find an oasis
I can stand on the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro
And if that is too tall
I can try the difficult Mt. Kenya
And touch the floating cloud
I can swim in the ocean or in the lake
Or in the dam or pond or paddle
I can also swim in the Nile or the Congo
Or the Niger or the Zambezi or the Limpopo
Or a thousand other rivers
I can catch kamongo in Lake Victoria
Or the bream on Lake Tanganyika or Malawi
Or bait the tiger fish in Kariba or Cahora Bassa
I can mine diamonds in Congo or Chiadzwa
Dig for gold in Ghana or Tanzania
Or just pick gems and cowry shells wherever I roam
From Cape to Cairo and from Timbuktu to Mombasa
Or just in my dreams.
Categories:
bream, africa,
Form:
Free verse
Water lapping at edge of the boat beneath the silence of the sky
Swaying branches of mopane trees and fish eagles cry
Wind of changing seasons and melting palates of hue
in the blood red sunset glow and murky silvery water blue
Elephants in numbers dot the shores
hippo’s and crocodiles are at the core
of many memories and visions of old
Lake Kariba, in land sea
full of tiger fish and bream
The endless blue that roles into the distance
where the sun rises and falls in panoramic vista
The skeletons of petrified monuments scattered in the sea
forests of pre historic trees swaying in the breeze
It wasn’t always peaceful, tranquil, and still
nature has no chance to relax and withdraw
Scheming and dreaming in the depths of men’s mind
Up Up Up goes the building and climbs
Man made dam, Damn big problem
How could this feet of engineering the power of ages old be so easy
to tame such a wild beast as the zambezi
POURING OUT THE CONCERT
RAMMING THE RODS OF STEEL
DRIVING THE WATER BACK INTO THE HILLS
HOWEVER, THE RIVER REFUSED TO YEILD
THE WALL BEGAN TO TIP, BUCKLE, AND KEEL
NOT ONCE, TWICE, WATER MARCHED THROUGH
LIKE A FACELESS WARRIORS, DESTROYING THE BARRIER
THE FORCE OF THE RIVER WOULD NOT BE SUBDUED
LIKE ALL NATURAL EVENTS, THE WAVES BEGAN TO SUBSIDE
THE SOLDIERS OF BLUE WITHDREW
UP WENT THE WALL, COMPLETED, IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME
Animals and people lost in the rising tide
from river, to dam, to lake to inland sea
Great and panoramic became the horizon wide
Like a whisper on the edge of wind
was a grand concert of ages gone by
Played out by wildlife, land, water, and sky
A harmonic existence of sublime serenity
Life here brings closure to one’s perspective
the sent of dust and adventure is quiet infective
The place of the skeleton trees, mountain passes, and copper sun still
where the stars in the universe, scatterings like lost thoughts, visions, and chants chill
across the forging path, that strides through this african wilderness blue
Lake Kariba, the artery of the north, run straight, run true.
Categories:
bream, adventure, beauty, inspirational, life,
Form:
Blank verse
Part II
“I walk a decrepit graveyard alone, in mists stirred by contrast winds
As a storm brews, I am grateful that I know in my heart he's alive
Skies bream with promise of torrent rain and shelter must be found
It appears; I’ve lost my shawl, and feel the cold chill even as I dream
I’m convinced it’s due to the storm; not because I walk amidst the dead
Further, I see through clammy mist a mausoleum, looms in the silence
As I near those rusty iron gates, leaves rustle loud in the silence
And I picture armed vagrants once here, perhaps chased by the winds
Now I rest assured, I am alone as I search this place of the dead
Painful moans erupt from within; my heart leaps; could it be, he's alive?
‘Who are you?’ My hear raced fiercely, convinced, this concludes my dream
Intermittent moonlight cast upon the floor, My Ross, at last is found!”
In a tomb her Ross laid in the silence; by love and hope kept alive
Calling upon soft summer winds; manifested in persistent dreams
Which resounded that among the dead, her beloved would be found
~*~
By Annalise Brigham
For: A Rambling Poet’s “Among the Dead” Contest
Categories:
bream, death, happiness, imagination, life,
Form:
Sestina
I've got a dish of killifish
I wish to eat that silly fish
Baked, or fried in peanut oil
Roasted, dried, or let to boil.
Make me a star-gazy pie
Take me to the Catfish Fry
Lead me to the China Sea
Feed me hermit crabs and brie.
Help me out with rainbow trout
Salt and thyme and wedge of lime
Filet of sole, or snapper red,
Served up whole, or just the head.
Meals of eels caught on reels
You're the star with caviar
Butter clams served with yams
Can't say no to salmon roe.
Tuna eyes baked in pies
Oh so daring pickled herring
In the lurch for snails and perch
Ring the bells for cockle shells.
Canned sardines on toast with greens
Sturgeon, sprat, and stuff like that
Grouper, pike, that's what I like
Smelt and bream that make me dream.
Cajun shrimp for my new pimp
Lutefisk and lobster bisque
Flying squid and yellowfin
Silver carp and capelin.
Give to me a plate of oyster
Eat them raw, that way they're moister
Tilapia and tiger prawn
Eat them 'til my hunger's gone.
Hake or krill would be a thrill
Bass and shad will make me glad
Tasty crappie makes happy
Give a nod to Greenland cod
Oo! I'd like a northern pike
Barramundi served on Sunday
Grouper, alligator gar,
Halibut or no cigar.
Amberjack atop hardtack
Pan-fried kipper for the skipper
Mackerel, tasty as hell,
Lox and mullet down the gullet.
Kokanee or marlin blue
Arowana, bowfin too
Bring to me your soups and stews
Sing for me the dogfish blues.
Categories:
bream, animal, fish, fishing, food,
Form:
Rhyme
My cat have a mustache like a lion
Her tail looks like a rat
Cause it is too fat
She will be a tiger in one fight
She's like abutterfly cause she
Is as fast as a cheetah
Her fur is so soft as a a pillow
She's a kangaroo when playing
She have to play in the night
And she likes bream
Categories:
bream, animal, cat, kids, pets,
Form:
With majesty they rise, and seem
to touch the sky, and then they deem
to catch a passing cloud on high
Which lingers with a wispy sigh
On peaks where sunlight dares to gleam
And birds of prey who reign supreme
Cast their gaze on the lake for bream
And from lofty perches they fly
With majesty
The gurgle of a mountain stream,
Soon a river of which to dream
Flows gently as a lullaby
Where lofty peaks meet azure sky
Mountains stand tall in nature's scheme
With majesty
--
8/12/17
Categories:
bream, mountains, nature, , Lullaby,
Form:
Rondeau
A phone call was all that’s needed and the message it was clear;
“Get your bum away from home and bring your family here.
And don’t forget your fishing rods; the bream are on the bite.
I know you’re off this weekend so be here tomorrow night”.
All we had to do was turn up so the weekend’s organized.
Us men will fish on Saturday while the women get familiarized.
Sunday’s to be at Lake Tyers; we’re fishing in the ‘Trident Arm’,
and everything had gone to plan - fish were biting like a charm -
- When there isn’t any toilets one must find a comfort tree.
And it’s much harder for a lady; Cheryl was first to see
the dangers of the bush when the call of nature’s needed.
But she found a way to hold on when her need was superseded.
For where our cars were parked many more had parked before
and fed the wild goannas, and so now they’re wild no more.
Then Cheryl ‘came the lucky one to discover in her need,
three hungry tame goannas met her in a gauntlet wanting feed.
When time was ready for departure, the rest of us got to see,
the goannas who were still about and waiting patiently.
But they didn’t care for sausages no matter how we tried to goad.
One preferred the rubbish bin; the others strolled off up the road.
On our way home with our catch, of snapper, flatties and some bream,
we stopped at Burnt Bridge where others fished, but their catches here were slim,
I waited in my car that was parked close to where undergrowth was dense,
and watched some movement in bauri; for a time it seemed no sense.
Then six foot of reptile slid with ease and hid underneath my car.
I looked downward out my window then its head stuck out so far.
This goanna waddled to the road and crossed the bridge without a care.
Cars had to wait on either side, and it bothered no one there.
Categories:
bream, fishing,
Form:
Ballad
Lawn furniture flavored ice cream
served in moxa cups
Candied eyes of freshwater bream
pickled bushdog pups.
Pig pizzle wrapped around a stick
grilled upon the deck
Woven rope with cat head and brick
hung about your neck.
Marzipan violin bowed by a stoat
badminton played widdershins
A toast of poison without antidote
barefoot on needles and pins.
Categories:
bream, animal, fantasy, food, games,
Form:
Rhyme
Wading in a branch
trickling slowly along to the ocean.
Smell of decaying leaves and honeysuckle in the air.
Tadpoles, crawfish swimming by toes in Swift creek.
River otter curiously watching
the boys playing, splashing in the water
on a hot August day.
Bream jumping, splashing
Trying to remove the land creatures
From their watery domain.
Categories:
bream, family, happiness
Form:
Narrative
A Cyclops was chatting briefly to a triceratops on the A9. Travelling to a cooked conference. The deepening road arched in anticipation of wheels. Wow. The heightened awareness of ninety million snails parachuting from above can no longer be ignored by the pin people. Oh dear. The significantly growing masses can no longer be exposed to such truth. It is wiser to punch a door than a circular blade of grass. Every erosion eradicates evenly evil events. And a curly tail from a single ear of corn is paramount to a journey into an abyss of time. Travelling with curtain poles is fabulous. It highlights and further demonstrates the current need for versions to be visions and visitations visible. Vestibular vertabrims vanquish. And an eye of dawn laughing. Circumference of an atom is neither a headline of a series or a statutory static void. And still a turning. And still a stripey square. Spin then. No lines could ever taunt an area of over three hundred and fifty-five thousand square feet. Ha to that. Jeopardy is dancing with leopards today. Worldwide. Creating lots of financial gain. No ha to that. If doctors can spin then why don't they make a blanket then? And coughing in dough is not clever for it is wiser to cough near a drop of eighty-four million feet. Question not the remarkable ten toed wisdom of the arriving jellyfish. Canter. Gallop. And enter. How rather radical then. And so the conversation ceased as the journey began for the Cyclops and triceratops misted through the many lanes and roads cheered on only by their inner missions. Saluted by those whose antics upon humanity were rancid. And drawing attention only from the large piles of heifer excrement sizzling in the countryside akin to freshly cooked steak pies with gravy. Beanpole bake. Bream booms. Brook book. And one turtle eye staring. Xxxxx insectivorous institutions. Xxxx germination z
Categories:
bream, bible, cinco de mayo,
Form: