Best Fishermen Poems

   What fish must think of us fishermen
      Do they wonder why we annoy them so
    with wriggling worms on silver hooks
       invading their waters, we weird-looking schnooks 

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(Retourne is a French poetry form wherein repetition is used. It consists 
of four quatrains (four-line stanzas), with each line having eight syllables. The trick 
is though that the first stanza's second line must also be the second stanza's first 
line, the first stanza's third...

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Fairy fishermen
Are fickle they fill the film
With freezing fish...

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black may turn to gray but gray
   may not turn to yellow,

  night may turn to day, but 
  still these clouds hang around.
  
    saltine driftwood and enameled seashells  
    fracture against...

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                             Have   you     
       ...

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In their wave-tossed boats, they are out to sea
Fishermen, the pride of our island
Seeking food or pleasure they may be
Their lone struggle may become a pain
Needing great skills in deep sea
Tearing in the teeth of gusts and rain
And tides as high as mountains
While worried wives...

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The brine and rot of a fishing ship
Is smelt a hundred yards from shore
The scurvy laughs of the mates aboard
A thousand yards or more.

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it’s christmas dad 
lend me once more your hand to compare ourselves 
among the living people i ever touched 
only your hand was bigger 

if you want to we can go to the seashore hand in hand 
to leap wave after wave together 
or you...

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THE OLD FISHERMEN BY THE SEA

They meet there every morning…every day of every year.
At the end of the pier they gather…with all their fishing gear.

Sometimes they greet each other by first names
Sometimes they smile instead….
Sometimes it’s a simple gesture…
a wave or a nod of the...

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In the early morning, as the sun yawns and lets out her first light ray  
two fishermen walk through the flooded bushes, searching for fish. 
Inside cooler waters a silent lake says, " Take your time,  take your time"
The sun slow at it's...

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He told them to cast their nets off to the right
This man who was on shore just barely in sight
Having caught nothing at all all throughout that night
Now darkness was giving way to the early morning light

And as their nets quickly began to overflow
One Apostle...

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They were tossed
by starvation.
We never visited them.
Cyclone drowned many of them
in the sea current.
We were either watching TV
or playing WhatsApp then.
We rated them low
for their sun-baked black skin,
uncouth tongue,
fish smell,
shabby shirts and lungis.
Yet they come
hearing our shrieks.
They row more vigorously
than the flood waters.
They keep us...

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The tall coconut trees
Resemble pillars
Erected like lamp poles
Spred like umbrellas
Stand in a row
Towering above the equatorial sea shore 
Welcoming tourists
Applauding the coming back of the fishermen 
Dancing in the dusk and moonlight 
Amidst the disco music of the sea
Have long forgotten the strike of Tsunami...

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Myriads of murmuring marine maidens
Musically musing, making mariners mad;
Floating or frolicking freely and feeding
Feverish fishermen’s fleshly fantasies.
Sensually swimming silvery seductresses
Stripping slobbering sailors of their senses.
Inveigling and inspiring them to inundate the waters
In instant insanity in pursuit of Neptune’s daughters.
To some this may come as a...

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We live sailing 
for making a living,
fisherrmen we are,
leaving our lives in the hands
of Mrs. Luck.

We cross the oceans
all over the world for fishing,
surviving for another bet 
in a harsh life.

Our boats are often 
on the crest of the waves.
A dream for a surfer,
a nightmare...

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