Best Nets Poems
The old fisherman sat in his dory
Empty nets, but concocting a story
It would sure mean his life
Should he greet his young wife
At the dock without financial quarry.
Now his wife was as fit as could be
With the girth and the might of a tree
He considered her ire
Then began to perspire
And headed his boat ... out to sea.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Tax & Finance Limericks - Old or New" Poetry Contest, Carolyn Devonshire, Judge & Sponsor.
Return
to the fresh ocean,
without tears of the storm.
Players of two teams were booting the Ball
Ball between legs not finding rest at all
Tolerating merciless kicks, hoping kiss with Net
Whiffing restlessly 90 minutes, 44 legs sweat
Flirted with both Nets, stayed loyal to Octopus Paul
( Oct 2010 - Won "Honourable Mention" in Members Contest... "Let's Limerick " held by Linda-Marie the Sweetheart of P.S)
Love is whispered and not forgotten
If this be so
I deaf to soft lipped invitations seek no thought of hope
I of no past collection hold thought
To forget is gruesome and beautiful
My eyes, swift allies in my war of world tell no lies
Silent in the 4 walled chalkboard blue
Shakespearean mad men twist their tongues with words of bland hue
I believe the concept of Ugliness is more profound than that of beauty
Dreams of my bladed face fill up behind my eyes...scratching my mind
Nothing goes SURPRISE! anymore
To love and lose is not the exciting protagonist to never having lost love
the optimists run in circles
pretenders of despair hunt themselves
Every street is Desolation row and my window is covered with blood
Nothing comforts anything
No advice
....just surprises
a man and woman
walking on separate paths –
children scream loudly
rose petals falling
as flowers die on the vine –
three boys pricked alone
weeping willow trees
shroud their twisted trunks with limbs –
tree house and laughter
early in the day
sun shines above the frog pond –
boys, buckets, and nets
June 29, 2015
"I Am casting My net, oh don't you see? and I have my prophets and
disciples following Me not only in word but deed, as we stand with even
space between us so that we can cast our nets far, wide and deep with the
hope of catching not fish but the souls of men as My Father decreed.
Little fish who are swimming in the depths of the spiritual ocean, lakes and
seas.
Don't be fooled by only the things you see, please learn the art of discernment.
For your own sake please let your souls be gently and lovingly caught, for the
sharks of hell love you not.
Please swim into the nets so we can pull you in... pull you to Me so you can
continue to live in safety with lots of rooms for you to grow in mind, but
also body and soul.
We can with love and tenderness help to heal your wounds and hurts of life
and heal spiritual tears not understood by the natural man.
By the time we arrive at the shore, you My dear ones will rejoice in the new
day.
You will be here to stay with Me in our Father's immense and never ending
holdings - lots of land to walk through, forests, garden's so beautiful, that it will
take forever to walk through them at your leisure.
Swim into the nets My loves for you will be loved with My everlasting heart.
You will grow into everlasting life!"
Dockworkers on strike, the ocean gray
and choppy. Wind whips the rigging
of a sailing ship with its weathered hag –
figurehead once lovely in a gentler
age. What Time weaves of us. A line
from memory flits to places farther
inland, when you were younger, every-
thing graced with light: the rain,
the chickweed, and the burdock leaf.
Tomorrow, another ship comes in.
A nice, pretty Jewish woman
told me a while back
that she thought Basketball was for Black people
What she didn't realize is that it used to be called
"The Jewish Game".
I passed through a period as a youth when
I wanted to become a basketball player
Well, I am now a poet
Maybe one day I will write a poem
about Elgin Baylor or George Mikan
Know who they were?
They were fine ballplayers
Memories of ballgames
are burned into my consciousness
ONE CAN ALWAYS DREAM!
out on the hungover gray moor
having morning coffee with the old man of the sea
we say nothing in this silvered wooden shack
lots of coats to put on, it's all very humdrum
the boat cuts through small yapping wavelets
possibly never to return, but of course we will
the mind vaults vast arenas in this place
we pass the westernmost cape on the continent
we lower the killing nets
waiting, trawling, smoking, it's a cold day
at this moment, the universe is so small, enclosed
like one cloudberry, in a much bigger bunch
all exotic fish we find like
two species of endangered turtles
even a few angry sharks
most of it unidentifiable by-catch
at the end of the day, what a haul of slime
all these words stinking in the shrinking twilight
regurgitated without end, coins without face
cliche, our deity, ready for blood sacrifice
Ballad
by William Soutar
translation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
O, surely you have seen my love
Down where the waters wind:
He walks like one who fears no man
And yet his eyes are kind!
O, surely you have seen my love
At the turning of the tide:
For then he gathers in his nets
Down by the waterside!
Yes, lassie we have seen your love
At the turning of the tide:
For he was with the fisher folk
Down by the waterside.
The fisher folk worked at their trade
No far from Walnut Grove:
They gathered in their dripping nets
And found your one true love!
Keywords/Tags: William Soutar, Scottish, Scot, Scotsman, ballad, water, waterside, tide, nets, nets, fisher, fishers, fisher folk, fishermen, love, sea, ocean, lost, lost love, loss
Striking along an azure shore,
Lover’s footprints formed in our wake
Are like a school of funny fish,
With little spoon-like fins, which swim,
Midst gaping clams and scuttled crabs
Scattered about the wet smooth strand,
To a great rock beside the sea.
And who will know we blazed the way
Along this stretch of beach today?
For all the funny little fish
We left to swim behind our wake
Will soon be squirming; hauled away
By swirling nets of white-green foam;
Mourned only by a curlew’s cry.
Rans nets, which bind and trap.
Ensnare and incapacitate all who swim in the oceans of life
I tangle thy golden skeins.
Your pearlescent webs that move in the voids between the 9 dimensions.
Your webs of final fate that float and dance between the worlds.
Ensnaring everybody in the 9 planes and all existences
may your golden Webs ensnare the wrongs
done to me and right them.
Men have two nets,
To stay in and to stay out,
One on the bed,
One on the sea!
Cast your net upon the waters
let your words and Visions flow
from breast to breast
Let The Healing Waters begin the flow
you are cured
like in a bird and the blue skies let it soar
let your words comfort me
that your Deeds
be from your needs
I fell down on my knees
Lord on my knees upon the waters
casting the nets upon the waters
let your words and Visions flow
floating from breast to breast
Let The Healing begin you are cured
life in a bird in the blue sky
its soars let God's words embrace our sons and daughter
let the words float on top of the water
from breath to breast
Lets lift Healing Waters Let The Healing Waters Flow
Go forth and
Let It Go
Let It Go
with just one loaf of bread and one fish
a little boy that fed thousand
this receive it leave it feed on it follow me as I follow Christ
suffer not my people hunger
for the body the almighty keeper
follow up rise and shine hold onto the promises
follow me as I follow Christ only follow me as I follow Christ
follow up rise and shine hold onto the promises
cast nets upon the waters
that your words be for your sons and daughters
Visions from breath to breast
Let The Healing begin you are cured
like in a bird on the blue skies
The soars but your words comfort me
that your Deeds be
From the needs while you're on your knees
Praying cast your nets into the waters
like God's words and Brace your sons and daughters
but the words and Visions
flow from breath to breast
Let The Healing go
go for Lord let it go let it grow
Let The Healing go
go but your Deeds be
from your needs
follow up cast your nets into the waters
let God's word embrace our sons and daughters feed your people
3/14/17
Written by James Edward Lee Sr ©2017, 2019
sun-nets:
...for realism in action...
there be
a sound of silence
as to such
natures wisdoms
they be
dated and buried
hidden in time
lists of dates
what be
such as combination
key to calendar
of poetic writings
be it
2020
2019
2018
or other?
stan sand