Best Catfish Poems | Poetry
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The National Catfish Syndrome Organization
by Hinshaw, Robert L.
BEWARE OF FEMALE 'CATFISH'
by ALLISON, JAN
'GONE PHISHING' - TRAWLING THE NET FOR EVIL CATFISH
by ALLISON, JAN
by Villanueva, Angel
Catfishing the Catfish
by Lindsey, Catie
by Gentry, Susan
by Dutta, Anisha
A Tale of a Lonely Catfish
by Loo, Lu
by wade, fauxcroft
by Pett, Roy
View all new Catfish Poems
The Best Catfish Poems
His hair online
Looked divine, so
To dine, she went.
She’d been misled
And with dread, saw
His head was bald.
What a bad dish.
Her fond wish was
*catfished (a fairly new term for those who don't know of it)
Being deceived over facebook as the deceiver professed their romantic feelings to his/her victim, but isn't who they say they are.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
I'm drifting along in a boat
In the shade of bald cypress trees
They're covered in gray Spanish moss
Hanging down to their cypress knees
With the swipe of a catfish tail
As he lunges to grab a snack
The splash breaks the afternoon silence
Minnows flee from the hungry attack
Turtles are sunning on an old fallen tree
Bullfrogs croaking for rain
The echoing cries of a lonely loon
As he pauses between refrains
At times escaping into nature
When life gets too extreme
I go back to the days of a country boy
To a boat, on a creek, in a dream
January 14 2017
by Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017
A cat jumped in the river
to meet a fellow fish,
he wanted to be like them
it was his only wish.
He figured he could do it
he had everything it takes,
with whiskers on his front parts
and a tail a catfish makes.
He swam down to the bottom
while holding in his breath,
but soon began to worry
that this might end in his death.
His little heart was pounding
as he raced back to the top,
he determined if he made it
that he wasn't going to stop.
He broke the surface with a splash
and gulped in lots of air,
He climbed up the embankment
and ran like he didn't care.
He ran through empty fields
and to home ran all the way,
and when he got their safely
stopped to think about the day...
"I love to watch the catfish
as they circle down below,
they move around so effortless
and offer quite a show."
He wanted to be like them
so he thought, in blissful glee,
but then he came to realize
Their mesmerizing silky glide
and tantalizing tryst,
offered a temptation
that brings us to this twist:
The cat by then concluded
that it was to be his fate,
that he should rather have the catfish
on his dinner plate.
Copyright © Cary Snowden | Year Posted 2018
There was a possum
of worldly descent
and things it had spent
Chasing a catfish
down dragonfly row
Wanting to see if
it was someone to know
Laughed at an aardvark
with tangerine pants
Filling it's pockets
with yesterday's ants
Climbed up a staircase
that led to the sky
Waving at meadowlarks,
Chewed on a cabbage
it found by the gate
Wondering if it was
something it ate
Sat down alone,
which was normal you see
Crying those tears
as it hoped it could be
that he never could find
Merely a possum,
just pay him no mind
He'll get along,
it's just something to do
And if he passes
in front of you
Maybe just smile
and tell him hello
He might be somebody
you'd like to know
Or let him be
without well wishes sent
For he's just a possum
of worldly descent
For the Dandelions Tiger Lillian and Bear berries Oh My Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2018
WHO IS THE GIANT OF THEM ALL
Animals or humans, who is the giant of them all?
Bearing a two sheathed wings, the Hercules Beetles
crash the Titans (beetle) growing more than six inches.
Down the dirty waterways of China is the Mekong catfish
extending at ten feet, tummy-filled with one
full swallow of a child... Horrible!
Godzilla in Japan's sea is the Nomora Jellyfish!
However, the tipped nightmare fuel
incorporeal spill is not at all hazardous.
Jamison Stone, an eleven year old boy,
killed almost, this wild giant hog of 1051 lbs.
Lizards like the giant Salamanders aren't cute at all--
measuring six feet long: the largest of their kind!
Nuisance to Australia's dangerous wildlife, cane toads,
originally are found in South and Central America!
Power and beauty
quiets all his challengers when Percheron
runs, runs fast in a horse race!
Savory staple is the spider Crab but warning!
Their claws can do some serious damage!
Under a tree, don't be shock of the flying fox:
vampires to sweet-juices of fruits in New Guinea...
Weighing over a ton, Trigger is the cow for truckload of macs!
Xenopos are Cameroon Goliath that can live up to fifteen years.
Yes, humans are tough but compared to these behemoths,
zings we have are just their toys!
***nightmare fuel - stingray; flying-fox - bat
==Sponsor Name: Broken Wings==
=Contest Name: Trashed #2=
O. E. Guillermo
2:49pm, September 04, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
There once swam a catfish named Ben
hadn't eaten since who knows when
my worm looked just right,
Ben took a big bite.
No one's seen Ben swim'n since then.
Ben put up a heck of a fight
was thrashing with all of his might
when reeling him in,
that fish seemed to grin,
and spit out my worm just for spite.
Old Ben made one heck of a meal
couldn't help but think how he'd feel
if he'd been the one,
who had battled and won,
from the opposite side of the reel.
Copyright © Charlie Smith | Year Posted 2016
A pond sits in the glen
bright fish dashing about
casting silvery shadows
ducks chasing after them
eels making their way to sea
flying birds circling back and forth
green frogs croaking for a mate
herons gobbling them up
in the depths a pike floats
jutting out its pointed head
keeping hidden as it prowls
lurking between the rotting logs
minnows swim by unharmed in shoals
newts eagerly snapping them up
out in the reeds lays up a catfish
playing dead it patiently waits
quick to react to its prey
reaping the bounties little fry snack
sticklebacks swim lazily through reed beds
trout leaping catching fly's and midgets
under the calm waters life abounds
vivid rainbow trout spawn
while the blue waters thrive
xanthine filled plants floating
yellowfin cutthroat trout dart by and
zander perch fill a fisherman's net
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014
Kids Love For Animals ( Poem )
Children’s favorite shows are of animals
I have hours in a playlist that are laughable
Like a camera pecking rooster and fun monkeys
To a mom and a baby miniature donkeys
Videos of wild turkeys and charming geese
Ducks in water and chicks learning to speak
Dazzling ostrich and many free birds
Some you would not want to move towards
A large unique animal is the alligator
The total opposite of the caterpillar
Camels and alpacas are tall and exquisite
But they spit at you when you try to visit
There are also hornpout and catfish videos
and a painted box turtle that is really slow
Beautiful miniature horses and elegant ponies
Border collies herding sheep to earn their trophies
Little kids pig scramble is stunning to see
and a little fawn as precious as can be
Cow’s hair that needs braiding is fascinating
With the most assortment you’ve ever seen
Come to my view with me youtube channel
If the kids are being hard to handle
Just start it up and walk away
To get your housework done for the day
By : Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWSq_PMWxD9q2V0UVqzX50Y6Y2pDaKISv
Copyright © Doris Beaulieu | Year Posted 2014
Sacred Lake Titicaca
High atop the Andes, between Bolivia and Peru,
sits the birthplace of the Incas, sacred Lake Titicaca.
A powerhouse of nature through and through,
it was created by the Inca god of the lake, Viracocha.
A treetop view showcases unique flora and fauna that abound,
from llamas to fresh water snails dozing in the sun;
rainbow trout and other colorful fish are found
as sunlight reflects golden on the lake’s horizon.
Flocks of snowy egrets among the rare totora reed
share this natural habitat with slate-gray Andean coots,
snowy egrets, and white-tufted grebes diving for feed,
while parrots scratch their heads perched on mangrove roots.
Sounds of nature overcome the silence of twilight,
as huge water frogs on lily pads croak their lullabies.
The black-crowned night heron forages in the dying light,
and gloomy catfish float underground for a tasty prize.
Incas believed that when their time on earth was done,
the mystical clear blue water was a portal to the stars,
and into the depths of Titicaca, their spirits would return,
to reunite with their gods and venerable ancestors.
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2017
Deep is the water of the lagoon
filled with many kinds of things
the more you look the more you see
reflected clouds floating in the water
A host of wondrous plants on the banks
little fish darting hither and tither
tall reeds are casting mottled shadows
deep down a big catfish lies in ambush
The cool waters a pure bliss to watch
rippling waves setting off flashes
different colours glint and shatter
like light beams hitting coloured shards
The tranquillity of this magical place
calls out to me beckoning me closer
I lay on the grassy bank trailing a hand
in the soft water and feel I am restored
Keep this place secret just for us to share
come here whenever the outside world is too much
here a blissful peace awaits to bathe you
to bring comfort and soothe away the daily pains
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2013
Soaking up sunshine on sandy warm shores;
sipping sangria while sampling smores.
Under umbrellas we’re putting to use;
utterly euphoric as the day comes unloose.
Mid-morning mildness is making me muse;
mild mannered time I must never misuse.
Madness of midnight is making mandates;
making fond memories while mingling with mates.
Eating cold eskimo pies by sea’s edge;
enjoying the easy life nothing can enhedge.
Resting by the river with rod and reel;
ready for catfish their tails to reveal.
Tracking the bull toads and catching tadpoles;
Taking it easy as heat takes its toll.
Ice cold sangria will surely incite;
into the icer, our friends we’ll invite.
Mid-summer party and merry we’ll make
memories to make us forget our mistakes.
Ending this etude I hope you enjoyed
every small ethos that I just employed.
Copyright © John Gondolf | Year Posted 2018
I hear the willows weeping
in the corners of my mind,
I feel the sand go slipping
through the hourglass of time.
I see the catfish whiskers,
more like tentacles, thick and black,
I sense the wasp nest growing
as I wait for their attack.
I watch the full moon rising
as the sun sets in the west,
I feel the thunder rolling
like a pounding in my chest.
I hear the barn owl's question,
though the answer no one knows,
as the spider weaves her magic
in the poison mistletoe.
Copyright © Danielle White | Year Posted 2009
Computer catfish anglers
Are out phising every second, day and night
Trawling the world wide web with baited hook
For innocent victims to catch
Internet sites such as Facebook and Twitter
Supply them with constant schools of fish
How easily they reel in trusting people with their deception
Can you be one hundred percent certain
A person behind the computer screen is for real?
Trolls don’t live under the bridge like in fairy tales
Fake profiles, false pictures and fraudulent names
Intended to disguise who they really are
Sadly some victims of their abuse resort to suicide
Hope these evil ‘catfish’ get caught and end up in court
Sponsored by Catie Lindsey
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2018
My cousin Tallie
was a real-life
from age six to eighteen
The kind who seems
a cardboard cut-out
all big hair and hype
manicured nails and
but in reality
there was much more to Tallie
Her favorite movie
was Fried Green Tomatoes
and as far as movies go
it was good
but I never understood
until much later
why she loved it so
At first I thought
she was obsessed with the dish
she just 'had to try' fried green tomatoes
with fried catfish...
But it was actually
more about “Towanda!”
the primal, female battle-cry
And there was something electrifying
heartbreaking and mystifying
in the way she had the nerve to
like a woman
on the very edge
with nothing left to lose
and that was true
Tallie'd been abused
nobody chose to see that part
that she actually had
had a heart
that someone had torn apart
Now Tallie's a badass
with blue-green hair
and a hard edged manner
she has a tattoo
for each person she held dear
far and near
dead and gone
and no one knows why
she's evasive, withdrawn
as they spew out their judgments
With all the details noticed
while picking her to pieces
how did they miss the moment
her innocence was taken
faith in mankind shaken
How the barefoot, crazy-haired Tallie
running free, suddenly
stopped entirely, sparkle gone
certain sadness in dark eyes
this woman appeared
And while they wonder
who the father of her
latest offspring could be
I wonder where the
little Tallie is-
that used to be
Copyright © Rhona McFerran | Year Posted 2018
Fresh cornmeal battered catfish
Deep fried with corn and
Smoked potato and wheels of
Tomato’s served up
With sweet tea and mint
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2018
Dad was a fisherman, he loved to fish.
But sadly, last year in July he perished.
He caught different kinds of fish, including catfish and bluegill.
Dad was a fisherman, he loved his rod and reels.
Sometimes he liked to fish with his brother.
Stanley and my dad cared about each other.
Dad bought a boat and used it sometimes when he went fishing.
Dad was a fisherman, he found it to be very interesting.
[Dedicated to Charles F. Johnson (1947-2013) who died on July 13, 2013.]
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014
and rifles unload
initiate the race
into the Mekong River
stealth head start
she leads amongst the pack
of four boys and three girls
paddles faster than catfish
other swimmers dive
chasing for the finish line
the Thailand border
no one trains for this race
many do not know
how to swim
instincts ignite energy
in their arms and legs
signals their brain to
pick up the skill
on the spot
greeting a timezone
some legs fail to flap
some racers sink
and one boy gives up
swims back to Laos
the rest continue
down to Paiyanag's home
death cries with people
either bullets pierce their
flesh or the
water filling lungs
her Olympic debut
two hours long
she peeks ahead
sand and shore
on the horizon
her feet do not give up
cup away whispers
to submerge beneath the Mekong
she ignores temptation
to call it quits
the finish line waits at
Nong Khai refugee camp
no one cares
where they place
first or second
or last as long
as their knees can
sink into dry earth
rather than their corpses
be fish food
out the Mekong River
at her homeland torched
ammo shells whizzing
no audience present
only the moon
and the stars
tracking her velocity
until the finish line
her medal for winning
a new Life
Copyright © Krysada Phounsiri | Year Posted 2016
Hook, Line and Sinker
I went fishing by myself today
It is not something I normally do
I like to sit by the water’s edge
Watching the light reflect off the blue
Yes I like the fishing part
The hook, line, sinker, bobber and worm
And just in case I get a bite
I have a grip on the pole that is firm
I can’t think of a better thrill
Then to see the bobber go down
I try to remember all that you said
To make that fish land aground
But whatever has taken the bait
Is not coming in like I thought
It has other ideas in mind
I can tell you that fish really fought
Finally after quite a while
The fish gave up the fight
I was tired clear to the bone
But oh my what a beautiful sight
Twenty pounds at least I thought
I envisioned catfish filets all around
It got it close up to the bank when I heard
The most terrible horrible sound
I lost my hook line and sinker
The sound was the twang of my fishing line
The catfish saw me up close and left
And destroyed my vision of catfish divine
Copyright © Connie Moore | Year Posted 2014
4:00 AM time to check the trot-lines.
Catfish and turtles strung out deep in the muddy waters
We would string the lines from cypress trees across a channel
And mark them with fluorescent tape so we knew which ones were ours
In the early morning we would get up and drink coffee and pee
Then head down to the boats to make the rounds
Sleepy but excited about what we might find had taken our bait
Once in the boat we would traverse the cypress tress and stumps just below the water
And find our lines
With headlights we would shine down into the water as mosquitoes and gnats floated around our heads
My brother would be in the front of the boat pulling up the line.
I would sit in the middle ready to unhook whatever we pulled from the depths of the murky water.
The old man was in the back keeping the boat afloat and calling the shots. He had grown up in the bayous of South Louisiana and knew ropes.
Sometimes we pulled blue channel cats that weighed in at 40 pound other times a soft shell turtle. No matter we would eat them all.
After we had hauled in our catch we would turn of the night-lights and drift for a while in the night and gaze upon the stars.
Gods gift to all of us for being up so early.
There were fewer lights back then and you could see the stars piercing the night like a needle.
I never forgot those nights.
And yes I ate turtle. At my house you ate what was put on your plate. McDonalds didn’t exist to my father. You gathered and you ate what God gave you.
You can’t always get what you want. But you get what you need.
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2014
Let's wait for the sunset one summer's day
down by the river where I always liked to play
we can kick off our shoes and bury our feet in the sand
come on please be my sweet river man
We can call the wild geese up with a little dab of feed
or jump in the water a little too deep
in that old Red River we can laugh and sing
take me by the hand, make that leap
Write our names in a heart in the sand
you can be my sweet river man
and I'll be your sweet lady river friend
we can hold on for life and scare the catfish twice
anything’s possible that time of day
my white sundress is a little bit dirty
from that red water that always stays so murky
I wouldn't want to be any other place
than down by the river where I always liked to play
and when the moon comes out tonight
and the stars shine bright
your sweet river lady
is going to sing to her sweet river man under the moonlight
watch those stars shooting in the dark as you hold me tight
until we see the sun start to rise
yeah down on the river where I always liked to play
nothing’s changed much since I was just a babe
but now I share with my sweet river man, my favorite place to play
Copyright © Danielle Wise Baxter | Year Posted 2012
Changes in 3/4 time.
Can't split a dime.
But you can sure waltz out the door.
Sound of your combat boots on the floor.
I hear the door slam
flies be damned
he's off to Memphis
head long down a pipe line
cutting cards and turning life loose
train stations and bus stations
take you north
to the Big Muddy
A catfish dream
and Mud Island
I'll stay home with my disease
Watch it all on TV
till he shows up at my door
bigger than life
but I got a gun
and I shoot him down
now I got my red beans cookin'
Yeah I got my red beans cookin'
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer | Year Posted 2014
The deep South has a lot of swamp creatures. The South's got alligators, some frogs, live catfish, bugs (flies, e.g.), and stuff. These here parts have been a part of these Southern United States of America since the Civil War, especially when Abraham Lincoln had freed the African-American ancestors and ended slavery. Going to the deep South is like going to either the Florida Everglades, or a rural Alabama town called Summerdale on a Sunday afternoon. What's so great about the deep South is when he or she is laid back, relaxing for a little while, and drinking a glass of homemade lemonade or sweet iced tea on a hot afternoon. Sometimes, the South maybe a bit boring for some people, but the deep South has many life-changing adventures, especially that of "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn" written by Mark Twain. Now, how good is that? Everybody is friendlier in these here Southern parts, that includes the locals who are residing in the deep South. Oh, if only the deep South were to come to the Central time zone. And if there's going to be a party in the deep South sometime soon, it'll be like a Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Louisiana, on a Saturday night during the summer time. Boy, do I love the south. And if the deep South and its rural towns in different Southern states like Alabama, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Georgia were to remain a part of these here United States, that would be great.
Copyright © Brashard Bursey | Year Posted 2011
Hurricane’s torrent forced the river to rise high
Bursting dam left catfish laying on rocks now dry
Writhing and gasping for breath in arid air warm
Lord, bless these creatures; give them shelter from the storm
Stray kittens had climbed high into the lofty pines
A stepping stone for babes, mama cat heard their whines
As with lost footing, she floated downstream free form
Lord, bless these creatures; give them shelter from the storm
His web feet tangled in taut strands of fishing line
Blue-eyed pelican hung from a limb like a vine
Around him, voracious vultures began to swarm
Lord, bless these creatures; give them shelter from the storm
Howling I heard, driving home after the storm passed
From home, a pup had been mistakenly been outcast
Grabbed it from a sinking boat, owners I informed
Lord, bless these creatures; give them shelter from the storm
Human costs are all we hear in hurricane tales
Only angels keep watch o’er those with scales and tails
Saving some with random acts of kindness performed
Our Lord’s blessed these creatures with shelter from the storm
*July 12, 2014 for Deb's contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014
For each gift that you make to a man’s spirit,
Servant gift, not the kind that dishonor brings,
There’s a peace that comes soft. (Can your ears hear it?)
And the heart of the man soon forgets its stings.
A first kiss from a girl that you really love,
Like a star that in falling comes home at last,
With a passion that witnesses truth thereof,
The feared slap in the face just a stale forecast.
Or the one who stands with you when all have left,
Unexpectedly present when future’s die,
Putting hand on your shoulder when you’re bereft,
Oh, the warmth that assures that this friend’s no lie.
My mom’s father just beamed when I’d work with him,
And fish too, when weather did not disabuse, (1)
With a stink bait that made catfish prospects grim
A male mentor whose love was not there to use.
A gift notebook just meant for new poetry,
That conveniently can stay close at hand,
Unexpected, but still quite a treat for me,
Home for poetic thoughts that arrive unplanned.
And a minister modeling God’s caring, (2)
In the wake of Church Christmas (planned gifting) bomb,
Taught a boy (who got nothing) to love sharing,
Justice bifurcates, half is Dad, half is Mom.
All the accidents waiting, in fate hiding,
Those that never quite come to your threshold’s door.
God’s provision? His heart with mankind siding?
Your close calls alone - stains blood red mar the floor.
A sweet letter that comes from a love once lost
Can still channel cool water to desert’s gate,
Makes a lie ‘must defend love at any cost,’
Shouts that ‘true love abounds if just people wait.’
Each small gift lifts subsistence to fine living,
Even though some will think it is really odd,
Good receivers (required to complete giving)
Are what give a gift life in the heart of God.
Nov. 15, 2014
Surely each stanza of this poem in fact deserves its own poem of exegesis, and two stanzas actually have them already. This poem is an excellent introduction to my work and life…
(1) See my poem ‘Fishing With Older Men' for an expanded view of the fourth stanza.
(2) See my poem ‘One Man's Miracle' for an expanded view of the sixth stanza.
The last stanza of this poem suggests a reason why some gifts fail to accomplish the desired effect. This suggestion is that sometimes our gift giving does not align itself with the will of God and may fail because of that. Indeed it suggests that gift giving places a moral burden on both the gift giver and on the gift receiver that is not obvious to all perhaps.
The moral burden on the gift giver is prayerful thought as to whether the gift should be made at all. We can only give what God has given us in the end. To be good stewards of His provision for our lives, should we not give gifts that are aligned with our desire to serve God himself? Does it not weaken our stature as His servants when we ‘throw pearls before swine' and then bemoan the fact that our giving accomplished nothing?
The moral burden on the gift receiver requires similar prayerful thought. Surely some gifts should be refused, especially those we discern are given to bind us in servitude to the giver, and do not serve what should be our joy in God's provision, but instead dredge up feelings of humiliation due to the depth of our neediness. Your debt as a gift receiver is always to God, not the gift giver. It is from God that all true blessings flow. Any hint to the contrary suggest strongly that the gift should be rejected, however well intentioned the gift giver might seem and however needy you might feel yourself to be.
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014
Hillbilly hand jive is the name of this here song.
So why don't y'all come out here and help us sing along?
Yippy ki yay and howdy do.
Y'all put yer arms right in and I'll show you what to do.
First take yer finger and stick it up yer nose.
Grab yerself a juicy one and stick it tween yer toes.
Raise up them there arms and swing em in the air
then run yer fingers right through that greasy hair.
Hillbilly hand jive is what yer doin now.
Run over yonder and tip that sleepin cow.
Now that were havin fun lets run around the farm.
Jump into the water hole and let that catfish bite yer arm.
Now lets go watch some Nascar and drink us lots of beer.
Sneak up on yer better half and slap her on the rear.
Hillbilly hand jive is what we want to do
so while yer up there dancin, throw me that there brew.
Copyright © Terry Burns | Year Posted 2013