Best Haddock Poems
trout haddock catfish
clam chowder and lobster tail
seafood is a feast
Categories:
haddock, food, sea,
Form:
Senryu
One night an octopus said,
Those whelks should be in bed.
Said the herring to the plaice,
Would you please say grace.
"I say" said a passing whale,
"Is that kipper for sale."
There is somethingvery odd,
Repied a bewildered cod.
"Excuse me" asked the shark,
"Did you hear that dogfish bark".
The haddock with a smile serene,
Said the mermaid is our queen.
May I join you said the seal,
To the mackerel with some appeal.
Of course the snapper replied,
Yes,yes the mullet cried.
Categories:
haddock, nonsense,
Form:
Rhyme
Said a Cod to a wise old Eel,
I would like to know how you feel?
Though people snack on dips,
Lots more eat fish and chips.
They say it has great meal appeal!
Said the Eel to the wise old Cod,
I find that unusually odd.
I've never had to worry,
As so many eat curry.
Very few are after my bod!
Just then a worldly old Squid,
Doing what Squids always did.
Went swimming slowly on by.
Said he "Me, they'll never fry"
"They'll only eat me jellied!"
Next came a Lobster and Blue Crab.
Followed by a Flounder and Dab.
They agreed with the old Cod,
A fish with a succulent 'bod'
Always ends up on a slab!
Then a Shrimp, Whelk and a Mussel.
All went by in a hustle.
Then the Winkle with the Clam,
Who said "I'd better scram!"
"Cos I give chowder its muscle!
Following next came the Herring,
In a disguise he was wearing.
For he was truly afraid,
That the batter being made,
Was for him. His instinct unerring!
Then both a large and small-mouthed Bass,
And a lone, solitary Wrasse.
Not to forget the Scallop,
Going by at a gallop.
All getting away en masse!
Next Mackerel, Haddock and Plaice.
Not one with a smile on its face.
The handsome Halibut too,
Was looking glum and blue,
Which went as well for the Dace!
Now to all fish its crystal clear.
Most of them have plenty to fear.
Be they skinned, fried and eaten
With bread - White, Brown or Wheaten,
Or soaked and battered in beer!
Rhymer. December 6th, 2016.
Categories:
haddock, allusion, fantasy, nonsense,
Form:
Rhyme
Food Fun.
The Cook she fancied Chef.
She truly loved his meatballs
and as for his spotted dick. Sublime.
Chef he fancied Cook.
He really loved her chicken breasts
and wished one day to cover them
in a thick cream sauce.
Cook loved his chocolate eclair
and loved the taste of the cream
in her mouth.
Chef loved her pastry to,
and when she slapped her
dough on the table.
Well, he knew she kneaded it.
It always took a good pounding.
Nothing like a bun in the oven.
The smell of the finnon haddock
gently poaching in its milk
was enough to make an old Tom
howl with delight.
At last the eggs were poached.
Chef waited till his sausage
was properly stewed before
removing it.
Finger licking good.
Those melons would be ripe soon
and the pudding had reached
boiling point and would be left to simmer.
It was nearing the end
of another busy day
in the mixing bowl of life
that was the kitchen.
Only one question remained.
Who would get custody of the custard?
Categories:
haddock, food
Form:
Rhyme
*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
Categories:
haddock, boat, boy, fishing,
Form:
Rhyme
pancakes barbara with cream
a buckwheat galette
haddock,prawn savoury wraps
brandy crepe suzettes
dribbled with treacle
Flip,flip Hoo
Ray!
Categories:
haddock, food
Form:
Epulaeryu
Hey there! You've cheated! The fish deck is stacked!
Never trust rabbits with side eye contact
They look at each other and not straight ahead
And deal themselves haddock, straight flush so it's said
I'm floating, I'm flying, I'm soaring up high
With hippos and rhinos, I'm sharing the sky
Antelopes, zebras and camels as well
The ground isn't safe! A bombardment from hell!
What exam is this now? What's quantum physics?
I've revised algebra so I'm feeling quite sick
My pencils are noodles, my pens are chop sticks
And what's worse above all, I'm only aged six
I stand on the stage to deliver my speech
I'm wearing no trousers, they're still on the beach
My notes in the pockets, crabs take with their claws
And lecture the starfish, five legged applause!
I wake up, I sit up, I look at the clock
It's still late at night, I need to take stock
I stop and rewind and replay what I've spoken
From tape to lined paper, I write down this poem
Entry for the "talking in your sleep" contest
Written 13th January 2017
Note: the title is the medical term for sleep talking - maybe a new poetic form?
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somniloquy
Categories:
haddock, dream, funny, humor, humorous,
Form:
Quatrain
Don’t worry about being thinner
Get yourself off down the pub
Then go home to a good British dinner,
Of British traditional grub
Delicious roast beef of old England
Served up with a thick Yorkshire pud
With roast spuds and cabbage and carrots
Plus gravy in which the spoon stood
What’s wrong with a good stew and dumplings?
Made with some prime neck of lamb
Or a thick slice of home boiled bacon
Instead of that wafer thin ham
Fried eggs and bacon for breakfast
A steak that’s surrounded with chips
Some mushrooms and beans or tomatoes
Can I hear you smacking your lips?
Give me pork chops with a kidney
A helping of wild rabbit pie
With carrots and peas and thick pastry
For which old Auntie Bessie would die
Kippers, smoked haddock or winkles
Mussels or soft herring roe
Jellied eels, tripe or pigs liver
I think I might give it a go
A thick slice of cheddar is pleasant
Coated with pickle of course
Or maybe a plump well hung Pheasant
Plastered with cranberry sauce
Blackberry and apple crumble
A dollop of cream on the plate
This is making my tummy rumble
Give me some quick I can't wait
A big lump of home made bread pudding
Or maybe a nice spotted dick
Served up with syrup or custard
Providing the custard is thick
A stuffed Sheep’s heart makes a good dinner
Or a nice deep-fried black pudding ring
On a slice of fried bread, did you hear what I said?
This is food that is fit for a king
When you’ve feasted on cabbage or brussels
Don’t ever consider you’ve sinned
Just be certain your close friends and family
Are seated some distance up wind
A plateful of boiled new potatoes
Dashed with salt taste exceedingly nice
If you give them a try will you no longer buy
Bean shoots or Chinese fried rice
Avoid all these kebabs and curries
They look like they’ve been eaten before
You’ll be finding them most Sunday mornings
On the pavement outside your front door
Don’t listen to these dieticians
Between themselves they can’t agree
Nobody mentioned cholesterol
Until nineteen seventy three
Make sure all your dinners are British
Now you know the foods that I mean
We never defeated old Hitler
Eating Pasta or Nuevo Cuisine
Categories:
haddock, foodold, nice, home, home,
Form:
A Couple Of Nags
A couple of fellows who weren't very bright
Got terribly drunk in the pub one night
It gave them a bit of a shock of course
When in a drunk bet... They each won a horse
With just enough money for chips and some haddock
They couldn't afford the price of a paddock
Bob said we'll rent a small field for a start
But how would we then tell our horses apart?
Ted slurred his words and burped when he said
Couldn't we paint a white stripe on one's head
Bob said we're too skint to buy us some fags
So we can't afford paint for marking our nags
We could tie a pink bow onto one of their tails
Scratch names on their flanks with a couple of nails
Or if you're not liking the sound of all that
Could we make one of them wear a straw hat?
Bob simply belched before he then said
We need to do something much cheaper instead
We can't afford ribbon or a silly straw hat
Did you think me too drunk to have thought about that?
Well we need to do something before we get old
Or before we end up stone dead from the cold
But then Bob jumped up and he started to gloat
I've sussed it he boasted, just give one your coat
Not likely said Ted, the thought makes me chilly
So frankly, he burped, you're idea is silly
Next you'll suggest that we smear one with jelly
Or maybe we ought to make one wear a welly
The two of them sat there, each scratching his head
Then Bob had a brainwave and here's what he said
We really must get this decided tonight
So you have the black horse, and I'll have the white.
Categories:
haddock, animal, funny, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
frost covered shamrock
belly full of steamed haddock...
slow swinging hammock
Categories:
haddock, seasons
Form:
Haiku
I ponder on this till I ache:
a haddock who says he's a hake -
I guess it's his right
to think that despite
so many believe he's a fake...
Written 25th April for Constance's ache contest
Categories:
haddock, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Limerick
An assortment of assorted asses assessed antelope antics angelically arranged
A vibrant and charming assortment of periwinkles, mints, truffles, sliced peanut cubes, diced baps, and a haddock basted in creamed lard. Now that must surely be an acronym for an actor but actresses prefer the wafer thin biscuit truffles under a melon spray and the painted opaque plaques of prawns and lettuces. Equilateral is a nice neat swooping swerve arriving at ten past six and ten past six is neither ten talking tents timing tuna steaks and nor is it six mammoths doing a handstand in a bandstand. All heads move then. Move around the garden plates with the trays. Little clinking cups filled with bud dews and sandwich stands to make a speech with the cress microphones and the cheese leads. Fantastically flaming flambés flamboyantly flashing fishes. And a little mouse holding a dish was hopeful to gather some creamed buttoned brie and camembert. But only if attired correctly. Rather swim in a puddle then on the top of a flooded skyscraper thought the pigeon. And the balls of the woolly moths and snails in all the walk in wardrobes worldwide clapped until the predicaments were aligned from the large banqueting buffers. Trains did not attend. And neither did Mr bus. Nor terry toweling tram. Bring the eleven cakes at once to get tote song. And strong is a stem and a steam is a stewing steak. Z representational Z at nineteen bangles booming to twelve aerial photographs of a little seeded bun. Z *** HAHAHA XX Z
Categories:
haddock, beach, beautiful,
Form:
Let’s sail away to Acapella,
A celebrity haunt owned by Penn and Teller.
I shall act as your prince, you’ll be Cinderella
When we’re sat on a beach in Acapella.
It’s not as sexy as Cannes or as dowdy as Rhyl
But their choirs and ensembles will give you a thrill,
Acapella compares well to old Casablanca,
As you will observe once we have dropped anchor.
Their libraries don’t hold any musical score,
Acoustic folk singers are considered a bore,
All keyboards and trombones were sold overseas
And whistles restricted to football referees.
So you won’t hear the bagpipes of Kenneth McKellar
Or repetitive bass notes plucked by Paul Weller.
Your voice will entrance all the ladies and fellas
Once we’ve moored in the harbour of Acapella’s.
There fishermen bring ashore haddock and bream
Having sung shanties as a well-rehearsed team,
The salty sea breeze gives their voices a rasp
And the youngest amongst them let out a gasp!
Melodic and manly, the crews ride the waves,
Proud of their seamanship, masters not slaves,
They heed the advice of their mothers and aunties
But rarely acknowledge the source of their shanties.
Once a solitary busker was found in a yacht
And by all accounts he deserved what he got,
He was forced down the plank at the tip of a sword
Then his vintage viola was flung overboard!
On the pier you’ll find orators and callers at bingo,
But no jukebox is pumping out John, Paul or Ringo.
Pop or rock music gives locals the creeps,
It’s no wonder that George’s guitar gently weeps.
So, if Customs Control takes your squeezebox or trumpet
Don’t seek compensation, you’ll just have to lump it;
Those instruments go to a processing plant
Because singers are welcome but musicians aren’t.
We shall seek out the nightlife in numerous bars
Where the locals all sing without playing guitars,
Dodge the Lambrettas in quaint cobbled alleys,
Then stride across hills and along peaceful valleys.
So, if you’re tired of concertos or singles by Queen
Book a cruise to a place where they’re considered obscene,
It’s a magical island owned by Penn and by Teller -
The remote principality of Acapella.
So let us sail forth across the briny
In a luxury yacht - well furnished and shiny
To where your vocal range will be valued quite highly,
And you won’t have to sit through Baba O’Riley.
Categories:
haddock, celebrity, fantasy, guitar, imagination,
Form:
Narrative
Now see a fine display in market hall
Where fishmonger's stalls sell the freshest catch.
A world of wet white tiles and melting ice.
Seafood displayed, arranged in rank and file.
One Scottish salmon commands centre stage
Stretched out upon its own tray of crushed ice
And next to a few Icelandic haddock
Along with cod trawled from the Dogger Bank.
To one side are some plaice all flopped and flat.
Seems they are staring up with fixed focus.
A side display of small fry, placed parallel
And herrings heaped up in sad slump of grey.
Some calamari, tasteless rubbery squid
Are off stage with other seldom sold bits.
In the corner there's offal bin with heads,
Guts, skeletons and several layers of skin.
Take for your cat. Put pence in charity box.
A fine display we see in market hall.
Categories:
haddock, food, life,
Form:
Blank verse
[Sometimes when I’m struggling to write
I scrawl gibberish in the hope that inspiration
will lie within. Sometimes, just sometimes…
I like the result. This is one such]
There’s an ostrich in my porridge
There’s a shrew in my canoe
There’s a tiger in my trifle
There’s a Shih Tzu in my shoe
There’s a spider in my cider
There’s a goldfish in my loo
There’s an aardvark in the car park
and a coypu in my stew
There’s a monkey looking funky
With a meerkat for a hat
And an adder up a ladder
Hiding from a hungry rat
There’s a beaver with a cleaver
For he hasn’t any teeth
And a gator ate a waiter
Which was really rather brief
There’s a haddock in my paddock
And he’s in a proper muddle
An explosion in the ocean
Left him splashing in a puddle
A polar bear just over there
Has seen an easy lunch
For haddock are so juicy
With not many bones to crunch
He gave up eating penguins
When a penguin bit his neck
He won’t see that electric fence
For Polar bears don’t check
And when he got a zap
He got an aura that was fiery
He staggered round in circles
With his hair all black and wiry
He tried to brush the soot off
But he’d have to wash it later
He didn’t get the chance
Because he met the alligator
The gator had to rest because
Although he felt quite chuffed
A waiter and a polar bear
Had left his belly stuffed
But my wife grabbed a hammer
And she’s had ten thousand views
Of her alligator handbag
And her alligator shoes
[Well, you were warned!]
Categories:
haddock, humorous, nonsense,
Form:
Rhyme