Best Herring Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Herring poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of herring poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Don't stop! The most popular and best Herring poems are below this new poems list.

Herring Gulls Revisited by Radcliffe, Lily
A song for the herring gull by Radcliffe, Lily
The ambiguous red herring by Beam, John

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The Best Herring Poems

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Late Summer Nights Dream at the Cat in the Hat

    It was way after eight, at the Cat in the Hat.
    The whole plaice was swimming, quoth the mackrel to sprat.
    Though the milk was upset, she still stifled her cry,
    So sorry i spilt you, mumbled poor humble pie.
    My joints are the bees knees, squealed the honey roast ham,
    And the apple agreed, she was better than spam.
    Then red herring denied, he had something to hide,
    Like a small Bombay duck, is a fish that is dried.
    While tasty choux pastry, bared her soul to an eel,
    The mock turtle announced, i believe i am veal.
    And the ice cube was crushed, as she played fast and loose,
    For an orange refused, to be part of fruit juice.
    As warm rhubarb crumble, melts in custards embrace,
    The sour gooseberry tart, wails she's taking my place
    Then a voice in my head, spoke it's all fantasy.
    Your table awaits you, said the waitress to me.
    I glanced at the menu, it was all a la carte.
    I said,bring me everything, but let's start with that tart.

Copyright © george seal | Year Posted 2017

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PoetrySoup …

I Was Heartily Welcomed… As I Sat At Your Table
By:  Carol, Sara, Carolyn, Dane Anne,  Moses, and Abel
               Tim, Leon, John, Michael, Jim and Yoni
               Deborah, Krista, Adeleke and Charlie
   …  James, The (Two) Ruben(s) and (The Quik-Composer) Raul
   …  and Many, Many More, I Love to Hear At Dinner-Call !

                  The PoetrySoup …

… It Has Member – Mushrooms
Chew and Chat Lunchrooms
Delectable  Hors d'oeuvre
Every Ear-Full… Heard
Every Mouthful… Taste
Spoonful of Gourmet Grace
Voila’ Words, Don’t Waste
Simmer-Slow and Baste’

In Dug-up, Sweet Potatoes
  Ripe Food for Thought Tomatoes
And Onions, That Will Make You Cry
Artichokes and Lemons that Squeeze – ‘til You Die
Garlic and Oregano Are Just Some Suggestions
And Here’s Some Mint… for Your Digestion
Parsley to Parley and Jive-Chives, Just Keep Stirring
But There’s No Clam Chowder, Shrimp, or Herring

A Dash of This… A Dash of That Seasoning
A Pinch of That and Sprinkle This Reasoning…
On The Side with the Mustard and Relish, so Fresh
Are the Cucumber-Contest and Radish Requests
And I Can’t Forgo the Tongue-in-Cheek Puns…
Your Laughter is Passed Around, like Hot-Buttered Buns !

…  Poets … Are Proverbial Peas In The Pod
The Harvesters of Herbs-Heard, in The Garden of God
so... Salt and Pepper to Your Superb Style
Did You Say Cheese, Please ?... ( Full Mouth Smile !)
There’s Hot Chicken Broth, When You Are Cold
Everybody Knows… Its Good For The Soul
And All That’s On The Human Menu… It’s In There !
… Even A Mother’s … Tenderized Care
Like Campbell’s Brand… Its Umm… Umm… Good !
The Aspire – Asparagus, I Took… I Understood
So, PoetrySoup’s Cupboard is Never Bare
And There Ain’t No Bones, No Medium, Just Rare
And On The Star-Burner… Is The Savory Meat
So… Grab A Heartbeat-Bowl… and Bona Petit’…

Yes, Thank You, PoetrySoup
(You’re Up There with MoonBee’s FruitLoops !)

It Has Been A Pleasure Getting To Know You All 
Thru Your Beautiful Expressions, Coming Straight
From Your Warm and Welcoming Hearts

God Bless You......


Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009

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Midnight Sail On Massachusetts Bay

Releasing the rigid anchor line
Leaving the safety of land in our wake
Warm July zephyrs filling the sails
Resting even hands upon the tiller
As the bow broken waves drift slowly aft
Herring Gulls night songs hang as we pass
Violet clouds drifting in pinkish bronze dusk
Outlining the schooner adrift on the horizon
Dancing rhythm of the Highland Lighthouse
Gifts a moment of wine warmed lips fervor
Alone with the lights from distant headlands
Their essence illume the crests softly breaking
Gently swaying the craft in warm foamy brine
Faint guitar moments with my voice uninhibited 
Evoking past memories of love on the Atlantic
Aspiration caught whole in the sail as we lay
A fearless embrace in the ethereal darkness
Of midnight on Massachusetts Bay sails…

Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2007

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Kirsty (one)

Even now I sit, slump, shuddering,
Stale walls echoing lamenting calls,
their house...
A nightmare flickered in the red herring of betrayal.
Stumbling hormones, skinless evil.
it breathed...
Blood red lips snarling, capturing someone else essence, bone dry.
A nightmare...
Deliberately slithering up my calf, I grasped a cube of insanity as a last hope.

The shock...
Dead eyes feared a toy box, a fragmented sense
clung to my only protection, my untouched hell.
Blood soaked, dripping sweat, saturated fear I escaped...

I awoke...
Demons hell-bent on demise. Curiosity craved,
crushed my soul into submission,
But it's just a box...
Teeth exposed, chattered, blindly shoved fingers in to catch my tongue,
the taste of soured flesh.
A vibrating voice crackled static pain, shivered in pleasure.
He escaped...
Bargaining, a blissful retreat, whilst exposing incompetence, irrational?
Go to hell.

Pounded at death's door, let me in...
Warned the worm of the vulture, coming to devour its soul.

Something didn't fit, the sacrifice seeping into the floor smelt half human.
A twang...
Realisation, cold, the door creaked, locked,
grinning gruesomely, the veins pulsing along a sadistic mind,
Quaking, i flinched around to a lubricated nightmare,
clenching my muscles, the hiss of hell's rapture...

A prison shook, a prisoner shrieked,
Sanity split like perfect fission, slime coated his
perverted call...

Come, to daddy.

Copyright © Holly King | Year Posted 2010

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Fishy Footles








For Yasmin's Footle Fun Contest

Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2013

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Witness Statement

As I watched,
like a lion with its prey
the wave growled and snarled
while crouching, preparing to pounce.
Rushing up the sloping shingle beach,
it reached out and dragged pebbles
down into its lair.

I heard
the rasping raking of the beach tumbling
pell-mell and headlong into the sea
and saw
stones spewed out as leftovers
in the next cold wave of grey water,
breaking in trails of white foam
along the coastline.

I watched
the wind-blown spray
and the black clouds over grey water
threatening and evil;
a wave rose, a hooded cobra
striking the rocks of the breakwater
before devouring them.

I listened
to the plaintive cries of
a young herring gull high above the sea,
blown sideways by the gale.

full twenty feet from the shore
the black-clad cormorant sat securely smug
on a post, the predator’s perch.
A swift, triumphant swoop filled his beak with supper
and I watched as he flew away.

Copyright © Elisabeth Sheaffer | Year Posted 2013

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The scent of Your Soul

Wafting in the air,sweet scent of your soul,
Like a garden of lilac shrub and sweet pea;
Exuding my path, deodorant of your whole,
Like the path of African civet cat or hill
Of scent-born-beetles. You are not afar,
Your beacon,your sweet aroma is distinct;
Yours is not red-herring,but a sun’s compass;
Ageless trajectory that never misleads .
I am close,nearer than phalanges to metacarpus;
The scent of your soul,beam of light to my sight,
The scent of your soul,eternal buoy in my life ocean;
You are the mouth, I am the hand; in sun and in shade,
Does hand miss its journey to the mouth? Does hen
Miss its path to the brood?When horse comes to stable,
It does not need the bridle ; often in hide and seek,
Romeo knows where Juliet is. The scent of your soul,
Like the moon in the sky,which hand can shroud?
The scent of your soul, effulgence of the sun,
Which curtain can veil?When thunder sparks,
Who can extinguish its light with his breath?
Doubt not, delay not, deter not,no fissure;
Like onion’s flesh we are bound;like hunchback
Glued to the back we are locked;you wait not in vain,
Because of the scent of your soul,we shall cut cake.


Copyright © KAYOD5 Kayode | Year Posted 2014

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I am Aleksandr Orlov,
and I'm not very happy,
Sergei is on a hot date - 
and he's also very chatty!
He's gone a very posh 
restaurant - and he's
acting like a human,
And I'm very upset - he's
dating Nicole Kidman!

I will have to gatecrash,
and make my feelings
I can't have Sergei turning
normal - he's venturing 
into the unknown!
But I have set up meerkat
spy camera - and I'm
watching his furry maggot,
But I can't have Sergei
turning into - a slippery
meerkat faggot!!!!

I pop up at the restaurant,
where Nicole and Sergei
are sat,
Who is Sergei trying to
kid? Will I doff my hat?
I have to give him an 
option - make him choose
his date;
'But, if he chooses Nicole
Kidman - I make sure he
knows his fate!'

Nicole is after Sergei's
computermabob, which
Sergei always plays on,
But who will Sergei choose
to be with? That is the 
burning question!
Sergei sits at the table - he
doesn't know what to do - 
He seems to relish the fact - 
but he acts like he's in a

I'll have a prawn cocktail - 
and that is just a start,
If I have the rollmop 
herring - it might just make
me fart!!!!
Sergei is drinking wine - 
and being rather silly,
But why does he wear a
posh napkin - I think he's
turning screwy!!!!  

Then we have the main
course - some very tasty
mongoose steak,
But giving Sergei a finger
bowl - was a big mistake.
Now Sergei has the skittle
belly - and he's on a very
hot date.
Will Nicole Kidman pinch
his furry face - or will
Aleksandr win his mate?

Sergei plucks up the courage
to play a crafty trick,
He won't allow Aleksandr to
touch his spotted dick!!!!
Sergei sits and prunes his
fur - and Aleksandr is upset.
Nicole Kidman tells Sergei:
"You are my furry pet!!"

They now have reached a 
crisis -  over who will pay the 
food bill,
While Nicole Kidman goes
to the loo - she's gone to take
a pill!
While Nicole Kidman pleads 
with Sergei: "Please come 
home  with me?"
Sergei says: "I'm so confused
and I need a wee!"

So, who will win Sergei's 
heart, -  and enjoy a new hot 
Please do vote on the meerkat
phone - before it is too late!
So Aleksandr makes eyes
at Nicole Kidman - and he
try's  to be professional;
'Glaring as he says to Sergei;
'what you are doing is so 
very criminal!!!!'

So, Nicole Kidman walks
away in tears - as Sergei 
chooses his mate.
I think Nicole was lovely - 
nice than Aleksandr, his
jealous' new date!!!!
Sitting at the table, and
pruning each other's
furry pimple,
Sergei tried to go straight - 
but it wasn't all that simple!

But now they leave the
restaurant and they both
do feel a thrill;
'Walking "claw in claw" - 
not acting so professional!!!!'
Will Sergei get another
chance - as Aleksandr will 
make  him choose,
Or will poor little Sergei  
not see sense - and act like 
a sorry little "son-of-a-


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2016

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                                  Freddie a fury to the red herring dish
                                  Felix zeroed in on the waft of the fish
                                       Freddie the dog winked at Felix
                                      The cat's eyes were double helix
                            They toggled a shark at the Barth's Park Office

FREDDIE AND FELIX/Limerick Copyright© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty 19 November 2014

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014

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the Curry man from trinidad

 I leave my home in Trinidad
 And I come to live in America
 And now I working at Kmart
 Whole day at a cash register

 But I do have a lot of problems
 Every time I get hungry to eat
 all it has is a bunch of junk food
 Or bread with some artificial meat

 So I decide to take all my money
 And invested it in a food van
 Is about time I introduce to America
 The tasty cooking of we Trinidadian

 And I though for the first few days 
 That business will be real slow
 Boy, but I was so wrong
 now I see people line up for so

 So I open up with trini breakfast
 Smoke herring with tomato and roti
 Baggi, Pumpkin, baigan and aloo 
 Fried bodi ,doubles and fever grass tea

 It’s the first time they tasting Doubles 
 The chutney burning some of them nose
 One guy look like he from Russia
 Drop some curry channa on his cloths

 I get all the recipes from my brother
“naz cuisine” The best food in Trinidad’
Some people start complimenting
 Saying, it’s the best they ever had

 A white man faced turns red
 Eating the double with plenty pepper
 But he says how he likes it
 It has a very nice flavor

 And For lunch I roll out the big guns
 All different kind of talkari
 Goat, duck chicken and fish
 Bake and shark, bush up shut and dhalpurrie

 Two Puerto Rican girls
 One looks like Mariah Carey
 They order dhal, rice, and goat meat
 Saying how they love the curry

 And every body line up
 They love the curry real bad
 And every body talking about the curry
 the curry man from Trinidad

 From my stove comes hot roti
 Tomato choka and fry plantain
 Since morning people line up
 Waiting for the Trinidad cooking

 And now is evening everything sells out
 I didn’t even keep one roti for me 
 And now I feel real hungry
 So I guess I will buy a bucket of KFC

Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2013

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Prose is my devil.

I believe prose is the devil,
The page is too large with detailed explanation.
A herring that is hungry for details and plot lines.
A parasite that taunts me.

I am in love with the poem,
The page is concise with word paint.
A butterfly kiss on a lilac desiring immediate nectar.
A lover that teases me.

For the verse is easier quest
For the moment bound
the present beloved
the feeling liver.
The solemn sinner.

I believe prose is the worthy prince,
The one with the page and the avid reader.
A well educated monarch on a lofty peak.
A soon king that rejects me.

I am in love with the unattainable,
The poem's black heart.
An ignorant fool who understands
A line left open.

For freedom is heartbreak
For the doomed spirit
the critically judged
the cursed be-er
The chosen loner

Copyright © Autumn Ehrhardt | Year Posted 2010

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Sardines on the Sand

                Sardines on the Sand

     Two Sardines danced hand in hand
     At their wedding upon the sand
     As a Herring played the violin.
     A portly porpoise clothed in grey
     Greeted guests from far away.

     A pair of Cod beheld the scene,
     The bride was dressed in seaweed green
     And an Octopus sang a gliforal song
     As the assembly wept into oyster shells,
     While an elderly Crab played whale bone bells.

     A gumley Anchovy bore the ring
     As the Vicar asked the choir to sing.
     Then a choir of Kipper sang on the strand,
     And throngs of Mullet from far and wide
     Danced by that strong mantigious tide.

     Then there came a flumifinous roar
     As the tide surged upon that shore
     And all the party were swept away.
     All on that bright framtitious day. 


       For the contest 'In the Style of my Favourite Poet.
           Sponsored by The Seeker

Copyright © Barry Stebbings | Year Posted 2016

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the way home

Distant shores tumble over the rocks
Resting among orange lichen and salt grass
Warmed by the sun

Herring gulls circle, searching for food
Uneven rocks slow my path to shelter

Where comfort waits for me

Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2012

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Humpback Whales

Hear the song of humpback whales
Gathering in Hawaiian waters,
Gathering for Cetacean opera,
Male exclusive grand recital;
On the brink of epic journey
To Alaska’s icy waters.

Off the West coast of Alaska
Shoals of herring feed off plankton.
Humpbacks fresh from far Hawaii
Gather at their leader’s signal.
Thus begins the “A-team’s” mission,
Brilliant modus operandi.

Giants of the Arctic ocean,
Diving ever deeper, deeper.
Round and round the bubbles spiral
To the surface of the ocean.
Net of bubbles in a circle
Traps the shoal of startled herring.

Mouths a-gaping, rise together,
Burst the surface, prey engulfing.
What a maelstrom – whales and herring;
Seagulls join the feeding frenzy,
Till, at last, all satiated,
Calm returns to freezing waters.

Copyright © Mike Jones | Year Posted 2014

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One day in san Fernando

 A lady on high street with ah tight pants
 And all the men turn and watching she
 Well I pretend I didn’t notice
 But in the corner of my eyes I look to see
 Then I went down by the hospital
 Stop and drink an apple J
 Was to full to eat any doubles
 Because I was by naz cuisine today

 Had smoke herring with tomato
 With two hot sada roti
 And some nice mango kuchela
 With a hot cup of coffee

 Then I walk up Harris promenade 
 Sit on a bench by the engine
 It was under a big tree
 So I just sit in the shade relaxing

 San Fernando really has nice girls
 So much passing in front of me
 I tell a red Spanish girl good afternoon
 She said “mind your business you stupidly”

Trinidad girls is very nice and friendly
 But it has a few with bad attitude all about
 Some girls talk sweet like honey
 And some have a pepper in their mouth

 Well I going to the place I learn tailoring
 By “ram mohess “on the lord street
 It’s been many years I haven’t seen them
 So I carrying some beer and KFC to eat

 Many don’t know I am a tailor
 I can make suits, dresses and everything
 And Use to designs at “images sewing factory“
Own by my good friend “SHIVA GOBIN “

And I cannot forget” Mr. Lopez”
Another tailoring shop down the coffee
 He who give me my job letters
 To get visa at the America embassy

 All these people has really help me
 And I am grateful for what I’ve learn
 And they will be in my memory
 Although our roads in life has turn

 Then I went down by the sea wharf
 They do catch big fishes down there
 Then pass by San Fernando market
 Ands stop In a rum shop to drink a beer

 Jump in a taxi to ste Madeleine
 See my nephew riad in the backseat
 He said, man it’s to early to go home
 Let’s go to a bar on high street

 Lites and roger was by the library corner
 So four of us went in the bar to lime
 Then girlfriend text to say she love me
 Enjoy my vacation, have a great time

Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2013

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The ambiguous red herring

Fished all day not a red herring on the line                                                                     but I got a basketful of kipper                                                                                    Hunted all day not a fox one                                                                                             with a red herring on the line  										  a shark ate my sandwich today                                                                                       He got away with the halibut                                                                                          a shark ate him today for the halibut                                                                                He did not get away

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2014

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A Fishy Tale

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.

Copyright © Denis Barter | Year Posted 2016

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Well I remember yon fine day
down by the deep Loch Ness.
I cast my fly so far away
which soon caused me distress.

Instead of hooking trout out there
on mud banks thick and messy.
Stepped through flat fish floundering where
I had to battle Nessie.

I wrestled her as you have guessed
though that was not my plan.
I only wished for herring dressed
not pilchards from a can.

It took a while to free the line
that Nessie had entangled.
I found my rod, my tackle, twine
hopelessly were mangled.

She gave a roll of victory
and left at a great rate.
Then I saw looking full at me
her own enormous mate.

Glad to say they went their way
and left me on the bank.
Now each day I sit and pray
and wonder who to thank.

Copyright © Keith Logan | Year Posted 2016

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the elderly man's made a pass at her

the elderly man's made a pass at her

i witnessed the saddest thing I've ever seen
in a long time
i hope it's not a premonition
my life playing out before my eyes
there's a couple sitting across each other
eating breakfast at a jack-n-box
another normal day
i thought
before going further
no it's not crack-in-the-box,
like how she used to call it
that clowness 
okay let me continue 
so there's this couple
and the reason
i'm dwelling on this
is that 
the elderly Japanese man had to be near eighty
and the women, Hawaiian-mix, around five years younger
and no connie's not from Hawaii
but then again that might be a red herring
so no one can accuse connie of being a sneak
anyway the elderly man eating his breakfast
pauses, looks over and sees his sunshine across the restaurant
he goes over, nice
now i'm watching intently
at my romeo , my hero
he can barely walk, gimping along
however i do admit he had nice thick white hair
he ask if he can join her
so harmless, i thought
she said candidly, no i'll be alright
those were her exact words
no remorse for his feelings, nothing
i kept watching ... this was good
the human emotion
the tears in his eyes
the blood draining from his face
he cleared his throat
went to refill his drink
and out of her presence he cried deeper
now keep in my i watching
the human emotion
the tears running down alongside his cheeks
so raw
a picture, a kaleidoscope of dejection
i saw flashbacks of my own, too
two near eighty years sharing the same emotion
as a youngster would
i felt his pain, so sad
he had just finished eating
and went back to get another breakfast platter
to curb, i guess, his depression, shake off the sadness
the women she kept looking towards me
i couldn't begin to think what was going through 
her mind
then i began to think
the stretches of gods reach
why did he allow me to witness his message today

connie pachecho


Copyright © connie pachecho | Year Posted 2017

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Rocky Cove

Grey nimbus in sky Ominous feel, rocky cove Precipitation? Walking shingled shore Shiny stones, relentless sea Horizon obscured. Elements no friend Merciless waves, tidal swell Noisy Herring Gull. Walk wet empty cove Steep granite rock, seabirds' roost Precious time alone.

Copyright © Delice Arleen Skelly | Year Posted 2015

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On the Ocean's Edge

Follow me down 
To the cold oceans playground
Where children dance and frolic
At building sandcastle dreams
That the sea will sluice away
Beginning its concerto

From the driftwood surfing waves 
Over the metronome melody
Of the gilded Herring Gull
And the rhythmic percussion
From the smoothed rolling pebbles
The symphony consumes

Softly hanging in the Atlantic winds
Just cresting over the song of dawn
The strings of the Willow reverberating 
In concert with the viola of first light…

Copyright © Charles Fuller | Year Posted 2008

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Fire Pit by Swift Creek

Light dims except in the flames of the ring of fire.
Stars shine brighter still
Hopes seem possible
Ease takes over and washes away the cares of the past week.
Swiftly down the current to the sea
Fire pit by swift creek warm our hearts, bond our family tightly tonight
Forever, eternally bound.

Silhouttes appear against the moonbeams
Herring, mallard pair, chimney swift
Splash....Splash!! Who? what??
Homeward bound leave the night creatures to their domain.

Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2011

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A song for the herring gull

The cliff tops were bare, rocks lay scattered across the beach, the nearing harbor holding all in its silence. Along the bay the ripple of a kayak hovered on a waters edge. All was quiet, or so it seemed.
Overhead clouds rolled and arched a landscape in blue, held by a shimmering backlight in grey-orange hues. Up there, amongst the rocks, movement issued the break of day. Columns of fledged juveniles headed out to the shore on surrogate wings so new in all their mottled grey glory. Clumsy at first, innocent of death, they practiced their art.
Many years ago, decades ago, before our monopolized greed, these wings could learn their craft on broken hills and rock face to a sanded shore now desimated by poisoned or starved waters. How the human spirit lives on.
Year by year, in urban habitat, overwhelmed by our desire to regenerate, encrypted in a culling desire, no co-existence, just hate, a lack of education, a provision of landscape in need, forcing extinction to deaths lonely door again and again.
Today I watched the bonded pairs high up on the roof tops, a tireless nurture, their weakened bodies, their empathic care. I look down through the alleyways, broken wings fall or on discarded earth or through my town, hiding in corners. We are the invaders, not them.

Copyright © Lily Radcliffe | Year Posted 2015

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The Menu that built the Empire

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 

Copyright © roy may | Year Posted 2011

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The Changing Sea

I have seen the sea be a mill pond,
seen it like a mirror 
where mountains reflect 
unshimmering there.
And herring skittered
on the surface to escape
the mouth of the killer whale.

But I have seen the sea
off Newfoundland's Cape Ray
when waves were mountain high
and on reaching the wave top looking down
into a vast valley of iron coloured water,
The grave of many a man.

To me the sea is a changing thing
like life and breathing in
and the salt moistened air in my face
forever gives life to me.

Copyright © Paddi March | Year Posted 2014