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Best Catfish Poems | Poetry

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New Catfish Poems

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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
Catfish Noodler by Villanueva, Angel
Catfishing the Catfish by Lindsey, Catie
Catfish by Gentry, Susan
CATFISH by Dutta, Anisha
A Tale of a Lonely Catfish by Loo, Lu
Catfish reality by wade, fauxcroft
Mrs Catfish by Pett, Roy

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The Best Catfish Poems

Details | Catfish Poem |

A possum of worldly descent Oh my

There was a possum
of worldly descent
Gathering diamonds
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,
saying goodbye

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

Somebody's friend
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

Details | Catfish Poem |

An Alliteration of the Summer Season

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.

Details | Catfish Poem |

'GONE PHISHING' - TRAWLING THE NET FOR EVIL CATFISH



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


Catfish Contest
Sponsored by Catie Lindsey

5/30/18

Details | Catfish Poem |

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.

Details | Catfish Poem |

Sweet River Man

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

Details | Catfish Poem |

Red Beans

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'

Details | Catfish Poem |

The Deep South

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.

Details | Catfish Poem |

Bless these Creatures

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

Details | Catfish Poem |

Small Gifts: Contributing To Other's Happiness

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.

Brian Johnston
Nov. 15, 2014

Poet's Notes:
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.

Details | Catfish Poem |

Hillbilly Hand Jive

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.

Best Catfish Poems | Poetry

New Catfish Poems

The Best Catfish Poems

Catfished

A Lovely Little Daydream

The Cat and the Fish

A possum of worldly descent Oh my

WHO IS THE GIANT OF THEM ALL

A Fish Named Ben

Fishy Tale

Kids Love For Animals

Sacred Lake Titicaca

Cool Waters

An Alliteration of the Summer Season

Rolling Thunder (in my chest)

'GONE PHISHING' - TRAWLING THE NET FOR EVIL CATFISH

Cousin Tallie

Been Fishing

Dad was a fisherman

The Race

Hook, Line and Sinker

Trot Lines

Sweet River Man

Red Beans

The Deep South

Bless these Creatures

Small Gifts: Contributing To Other's Happiness

Hillbilly Hand Jive