Best Fisherman Poems
THE FISHERMAN AND THE MERMAID
A young fisherman berthed in Penzance
Went ashore one fine night to a dance
He woke up on his boat
With a mermaid afloat
The First prize in a card game of chance
So was spawned a cross genus romance
Though the neighbors regarded askance
They got married next day
In a church by the bay
And went off to a fish farm in France
August 2019
Given N/A in Contest: ‘Two Sea Themed Limericks’
I remember how you looked that day,
How happy, young and free.
Your sun bleached hair, your sun bronzed skin,
I watched you from the lea.
You never saw me standing there.
I'm glad it stayed that way.
We never spoke, we never met,
But I came every day.
I came to watch you cast your net.
You were my mystery man.
I whiled away the live long day,
Watching from the sand.
You seemed to have all you could need,
The surf, a boat, a net.
I close my eyes and click my heels,
And I can see you yet.
There was a young woman living by the sea.
Her house was on the shore owned by her family.
The house of a fisherman that was tall and slender,
Was built on an island opposite to hers.
It was a starry night when they met.
Fisherman was on water preying fishes with net.
He saw a woman drowning in the sea,
She was caught by his baits accidentally.
The fisherman came to save her;
Brought her home and offered food and water.
Under the moon,they laughed and talked,
Footprints marked the sand as they walked.
The moonlight flashed in both eyes,
Hidden feelings suddenly arise.
Hearts were pierced by Cupid's dart
Filled the place with love and art.
Came the sun rise and ended their night,
Woman needs to go home and leave his sight.
Poor young fisherman can’t defy;
Hugged her and kissed goodbye.
Days have passed but memories still in mind.
On the balcony she sits, staring on the opposite side.
So she went to the opposite island to see him,
But found fisherman and his wife and child with him.
The woman stepped back and went to the shore;
She drowned herself for life’s not good anymore,
But someone stopped her and grabbed her.
It was fisherman who gladly said “You came back” and pulled her out of the water.
Out spoke the woman, --”You’re now married, so let me die!”
“What? I’m not married, you’re telling a lie!”
“I went to your house and saw you with your wife and child!”
“That’s my twin brother”, the fisherman smiled.
Now, it’s the fisherman and the woman living by the sea,
In an island where they both dwell happily.
With the moon above, they exchanged their vows so quiet,
On a lovely night where the stars are bright.
I can remember,
Those warm sunny days,
As we sat on the beach,
Watching wave after wave.
Seeing the sea grass wave,
In the warm summer breeze,
Droplets of water land on my face,
As we sat on the beach watching the sea.
We walked for miles collecting hundreds of shells,
Carefully climbing the jetty,
The clean sea air is all you can smell.
We hoisted the sail on our small sailboat,
With only one big gust of wind,
We were no longer afloat.
We woke at dawn,
to spend our day on the bay,
Fisherman we were,
Even if only for one day.
All those happy memories,
Etched deep in my mind,
Will remain forever,
By the best dad of all time.
I am in stupid love,
a fish out of water
caught by a slimy worm.
Hooked by hunger
and evidently truth,
but this bowl is far too real
to swallow.
My freedom was stolen
and he just laughs
as I swim around
in ridiculous circles,
searching for a knob-less door.
My voice gurgles as I ask him,
Oh simple-minded fisherman,
why'd you go and snag me like that
and what did you keep me for?
I, an umber fisherman,
hover
on this bamboo raft
like a dragonfly
over the aegean river.
The gods below
cast reflections
of their salmon sun,
languid
in orchid sky
before indigo palms
and spruce mountains
brocading
a mute kingdom,
onto my blank
porcelain world.
His long cane pole limber and perfect,
Patiently waiting, his eye on the bobber
For his prey, he has the utmost respect,
The big fish almost becoming his cobber.
He’d seen it swim among the rocks alone
Unmindful of its nemesis on the bank
The water clearer, he could see the stone,
He longed to hook it firmly, give it a yank.
Four times before he’d watched it feed
Once in the rocks, thrice in the shallows
A great catch it would surely fulfill a need
To cement his place among his fellows,
But the sun now approaching mid-morn
Signaled he was too late to catch today,
Beaming on the fisherman with scorn
No prize catch would there be to filet.
Written August 15, 2022
FisherMan AKKINA A Devout Woman by James Edward Lee Sr.
Whose to say only
Only fishermen are men
Whose to pray for
I know of a divine fisher-girl
No, I mean Woman of God
A fisher of men
She'll give her prayers for them...
God's daughter, blessing to her family
Above the slaughter
Righteousness taught her
Cast her lots, beneath the waters
Be beyond callers
She is fishing with her own destiny
She's above the oceans and seas
Ahh!! yes and she believes, believes
In angels fishings
Yes, angels fishing
Everyone lend a hand
She has cast her line,
Threw her net out
Oh! what a devout Woman of God
Quite a fisherman
God's woman
A devout woman
of fishing of men
God send, SUCH A BLESSING
AKKINA
12/02/17
from anthology "God's Children New Poets, Poems and New Friends 2"
Rosy red, his cheeks said
As good cheer he spread
Laughter, like a merry kiss
Touched hearts with bliss
Fish in every variety caught
Delicious nutrition he brought
So that every mouth watered
For the delicacies he slaughtered
Rosy red, his cheeks burned
With joy we never learned
His smile, catching as a cold
Reminded his heart was gold
Fish, all different tastes, flavors
Brought to tummies, savors
Yummy delights that once splashed
In the sea before his knife slashed…
Away the fins, the gills, the frills
A fish to flaunt the fisherman’s skills
A Jolly Fisherman Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
August 16, 2022
Like a fish on the line fighting so as not to be caught
So is this fight of mine for that inner peace I sought
So desperately fighting to get away to be on my own
Not having learned even to this day yet being grown
In all that tossing about, a gentle tug pulling me back
As on and on goes the bout, I begin to see where I lack
But I continue to resist and use every bit of my resolve
I may have chosen to enlist yet a heart can often revolve
Soon my will begins to drain as He gently draws me near
So much resistance all in vain becomes much more clear
Laying there so helpless He draws me next to His Side
In that I have caused all this mess in acting upon pride
In taking me into His Hand He is but gentle and so kind
I soon began to understand as all those tangles unwind
But this I didn't see for this Fisherman had a special Way
For then He set me free to go about and live another day
Matthew 4:19
And he saith unto them,
Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.
'Twas April Fourteenth, Seventy-Eight.
Lest any should repudiate
what on this very special date
the two of them were doin',
Let's for a moment contemplate
their entry to the grand estate,
the legal right to procreate
through mutual "I Do"-in'.
Our hindsight intuition
says that he was probably wishin'
he was fishin', with precision
swishin' flies to waiting bass.
For he had but one ambition
and considered his commission
was to fishin' competition,
pulling lunkers from the grass.
But he set aside this mission
for submission to tradition,
and Patrician erudition
soon replaced his noble cause.
Now a maid with hair of titian
dishin' clams and oysters squishin'
and musician's compositions
may engender his applause.
The Mrs. was the perfect mate
to tolerate and moderate
that diehard fishing reprobate,
and of her own volition,
Found better ways to celebrate
and venerate their special date;
They'd renovate and recreate
the joys of goin' fishin'.
For many years ago this day
they both agreed to go their way
through life together come what may,
the good times or perdition.
And though it's now an old cliché,
the best times all the bad outweigh,
But those which in their hearts will stay
were spent when they went fishin'.
Just another Warrenpiece
The Best Fisherman of All
Imagine your being the little worm
chosen by the Lord for His hook,
helping the Master bring in a mighty catch
for the Lamb’s priceless Life’s Book.
The Lord is the Master of Fishers
He knows just what He needs,
to fill His precious net full of souls
He tends to His bait faithfully.
But, what can I say to this dear Fisherman
Not I! Oh no, Lord not the hook!
But when I look and see how many souls that I’ve caught
and how I helped write them within His Book.
Then to my knees I humbly bow
and my will I give and say, “Lord, okay, put me on Your hook,
for tis worth the pain that I suffer now
when I see who is written in Your Book!
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
Winters end brings fish to the bay.
where all the birds decide to lay.
And foxes and bunnies run around,
On the the grassy, sandy mound.
There is man with a pole
that doesn't have a goal
his hook is empty
and asleep dreamt he,
nothing but the ocean breeze.
Then in a swift and careful motion
did he jig his line.
Now I notice his pole is a stick and line was twine.
I ask "what do you suppose you'll catch
with that stick for a pole and twine for a line."
He said "If me and that fish do by chance intertwine
ill be happy for awhile,
But I am satisfied with how I beguile this time."
So as I watched this fisherman I cracked a smile.
Cause although he has nothing but a stick for a pole and twine for a line,
he has become more content with life.
So I left and continued with my strife.
By, Brennan Gunster
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.]
The fisherman sat on the bank
patiently he waits for a bite
but his reel stayed very lank
He wanted to score a good rank
but was having no luck at this site
the fisherman sat on the bank
A few nibbles and his reel sank
his bait gone, words he did incite
but his reel stayed very lank
With a splash his reel it did tank
with a whooping enormous bite
the fisherman sat on the bank
The gods up above he did thank
his luck he believed not quite
but his reel stayed very lank
By now he had got very dank
and shaking off a pesky mite
the fisherman sat on the bank
but his reel stayed very lank