Best Cod Poems
I could not paint a better picture,
Than the one in front of me,
Of twists and turns of the canal,
Bordered by endless trees.
A warm day with a slight breeze,
Giving the grass moving shadows of leaves,
Multiple species of birds stop by,
Some on the ground, some in the sky.
Gulls, Terns and Cormorants dive,
For crustaceans and fish of various size,
While sparrows, robins and occasional chickadees,
Grab insects on the fly.
Parades of boats, barges and ships,
Fascinate and entertain our time,
Sitting by the canal is more than a pastime,
It's watching life at its prime.
Fishermen, bicyclists, joggers and tourists,
They enjoy this special place,
Taking it all in; they embrace,
Nature at its purest!
The Feeling of Fishing while Floating
Is Graded on Goading, and Gloating
Bystanders oft blindly believe
In salmon the size of my sleeve
Tall Tales at the Time Told True
In Grandeur they Gained and they Grew
But my Rod and Reel won't Remember
Come the Dread and the Din of December
And by the Time I again Tell my Tale
I Will have Wrangled Ahab's White Whale
2/13/11
Out of the flow
Behind the log
Big mouth grabs black yabby.
COD
Overrated Game
Ruining perfect relationships
Taking life from teens
Pointless
When Christmas party is foiled by flu
What then, does a harried hostess do?
She goes to the phone
Says, “We must poshtpone.
We’ll reschedule when the dyear is dew”.
(the year is new)
The majestic Murray cod is native to Australia's inland rivers including the Murray River. It grows to a maximum size of about 6 foot and 250 lb in weight. The maximum estimated age is about 50 years. Divers in clear water are often confronted by these huge gentle fish that are very curious. Those that stare eye-to-eye with these magnificent creatures in the wild, or in tanks in captivity, are spooked and deeply affected by the experience. I was part of a team of scientists that established the age and growth of Murray cod. I live in awe of them to this day. Take a trip and stare eye-to-eye with a cod before you die.
Big Fella Cod
Murray cod sublime
when met, looked at eye to eye
so deeply profound
*Image of Little Boy Fishing by Mutual Art
Cape Cod Boy
A warring feat
expands beneath
petite and huge contends,
a unique line
tugging the brine
taunting as it suspends,
a juvenile
bear naught a smile
a glimpse enigma lends,
too close to shore
new hopes implore
that cod and haddock wends,
true tasty meats
fresh scene unseats
entreaties pleased extends,
aspect well made
fulfilled persuade
the wait, the catch godsends.
2021 October 31
*1st Place*
Rhyming Me A Poem 2
~~Eve Roper: Judged 2021 November 14
Photo #2
*HM*
Absolutely Anything
~~Shreya LN: Judged 2022 January 31
Cod Fish Stew
Ocean fresh with onions only enhanced Dad's delicious dish
11/11/2015
~ For Andrea's Food & Our Memory Connections contest ~
Cod Fish in Aus
Lines are set to catch a cod
Spring sticks an 100 lb of cord
Shark hook with a wire trace
he’s taken line an rod this ace
but no it is not odd
deep pools is where cod do lurk
he stole the rod of fat Mac Gurk
he tried to shoot him, got the boat
near to drown in old great coat
no it did not work
a cod was lifted by young Jim
a pelican showered him
blinded by the vapor trail
he held the cod fish lost the tail
lost fish an awful sin
Don Johnson attempting a Limerick :)
Grasped in the fish monger’s fingers
The lingering ling cod now lingers
Knowing in the fingers of the fish monger
A ling cod will linger no longer
Once upon a time
on a cold, cold winter night
there was a cat
all black with some white
his master was a little old lady
after her sweet cat took a pee on
the floor
the little old lady said
I will have this no more,
so she toss the cat out in the cold
the old lady said you have already
been told
now the cat thought what am I to do
if only I had a hat
to keep my ears warm
but what about my tail
it will surly freeze as well,
So the cat tip toed around the ground
as the cold winds was blowing him
all around
the cat thought now where
could I Go to keep warm
I got to get back inside and
away from this bad snow storm,
if only I could get back into the house
maybe if I Bring the old lady
a mouse
but as he started to move his
butt was stuck to the ground
Oh God he thought just
help me get my frozen legs to go
there must be away in this deep snow,
But to his surprise
the cat looked out of the
corner of his eyes
and he heard the old lady cry out
oh kitty come on back in the house
it much to cold for you to be
out and running all about,
the cat thought wow God your great
if I would of been out here
much longer
with your help I feel a little stronger
the cat ran ever so fast to the door
and the old lady had a nice
big bowl of milk just for him
sitting on the floor,
the old lady reach down to
give her cat a pat on top of
his head
the cat was so happy
as he walked all around her legs
so she gave her cat a treat
and said oh you old cat you really are so sweet
then old lady said
it off to bed,
From a distance a lighthouse horn blows
The mist settles in, fishermen do not go
A beacon light gleams and attracts
Sights and sounds, from a warning tract.
From a distance, harbor lights in a row
Tides smooth over, ripples are low
Seagulls landing, shells lie about
This must be Cape Cod no doubt
Brunette shadows echo off of the afternoon;
moving loftily through the atmosphere with cotton kisses
Under a pastel, sea blue dome
Star gazing pines stand tall and high
Reaching up and out, for a brush of the sun
Along the craggy path of thickened scrubs;
Coarse sea plants engage, along the road
White sands pose in piles,
that look as though they were drawn, by an artist
Toasted air passes by my window,
as we approach the seaside
The Atlantic Ocean haunts my senses
Mounds of sand dunes reach up in spectacle,
as their tall rough grasses shift in the breeze
Swarms of bodies bathe by the waters
Children swam in piles of sand ,
with buckets and shovels and laughter alike
The soothing sounds of the waves -
crashing along, in constant frantic motion
We rest on our blanket of ease
The sounds of the ocean caress and utter, in the breeze
We are in a motionless trace of sight and sensations
Locked in my memory, I have bottled a moment in time
Blood money isn’t paid in silver these days,
just transferred to your account
with a sheet of computerised data
to tell you their proffered amount.
I’m standing over the fish sheds,
to my front near empty docks,
to my rear swift running Humber,
to the left the gates and the locks.
In my pocket this little piece of paper
that tell me the price of my pride
and I’m standing out here in the open
‘cos I won’t be seen crying inside.
So many years I served on those trawlers
the boy to man years of my life
I saw so much more of my ship mates
than I did of my children and wife;
stood on the decks in the cold and the fog
and the rain and the sleet and the ice
gutting the fish for your table.
We accepted it wouldn’t be nice.
I worked all those years for a living
because fishing was part of my blood
from, a proud and vital community
surviving both bad years and good.
Most of those years worked for one company,
most of that time in one or two ships
I was a regular deckie
I didn’t miss many trips.
Then they turned and told me you’re finished
with just a swift oh by the way
you were only a casual worker,
don’t get any severance pay.
All these years we’ve fought for our justice.
For recognition of our effort and pride,
Our numbers slowly dwindling.
One by one old comrades died:
And now they tell me this is victory
time to pay for my wasted years
so I’m standing atop of this fish shed
no shame in my bitter tears.
enjoy your cod my brother
but grant me one little wish.
Before you add your vinegar
just think of one price paid for fish.
Imaginary
fictional seaside village
mystery writer sleuth