Long Fish Poems
Long Fish Poems. Below are the most popular long Fish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fish poems by poem length and keyword.
The Living Word
In a country, far from this place.
The word is not written down.
They are not allowed.
They will hunt you,
and kill you…
for speaking
hope and heresy.
They gathered.
The sons and daughters…
Missionaries of Light.
They read by day,
they read by night.
They became,
one with every page.
Soon, they traveled,
as was their dream,
to lands far and wide.
No paper to hold and burn.
No words to be found,
and death to be dealt.
The soldiers they looked.
High and then low.
They punished a few.
In the end they found,
nothing,
as they were looking
for words,
written by men.
not by God.
The missionaries left the boat.
The missionaries left the train.
They left the plane.
They moved across the land,
Freely.
The word, every word…
alive, with every breath,
remembered and
sang to the birds,
that fly,
and the fish
that swim.
He is Risen!
Her chopsticks are at the ready.
Her hands are good and steady.
She likes to knit her noodles!
The task has just begun...
She starts off with a mango Welt
With pride, with zest, with tang.
It's a mesmerising watch
While the wiggling noodles hang.
Next. She's on to saucy Stocking Stitch.
Her garment sure does grow!
Knit one - Purl one - Knit two together
On each tasty row.
And this main course is called
" Knit Purl Chopstick Cha "
With a curry Cabled centre,
With sides of paprika Purl and Knit korma.
And as an extra tasty treat
BBQ Rib Raglan is on the menu.
Trust me! This kind of cuisine
Can't be found in any old venue!
From there on, the sleeves do drop
Like the soy sauce shaken a top.
Neatly Knitted are the Ribs.
Who voted for fish and chips?
To finish this fine course...
Knit - Slip - Knit - Pass Slip Stitch over.
This will make the button holes
For the chocolate to melt all over.
And on completion, these knitted noodles
Slide straight on down her throat...
Before we've had a chance to prove her skill
This talent to others gloat!
I get three shots
on an afterlife
when I come back
as a living thing,
I've decided,
but only if this world
gets better
and not worse.
I choose an assortment.
I choose mythical
and nonmythical.
First, I'll be a Marahute
and save those who save me,
or an albatross who sails
the sky with unfathomable care.
Second time around,
I will be a Secretary Bird.
She stomps around
like it's no one's business,
and she tramples over dinner
al dente.
Third time and last chance,
I will obviously be a mermaid
with everything perfectly proportioned
and enhanced, just for me.
I will choose to be
the most beautiful mythical creature
of my imagination.
I will see
everything
under the sea.
That is where
everything
shuts up.
I will only have my eyes
and an appreciative heart,
and amazingly long
rainbow hair.
The fish will
appreciate me.
Otherwise,
they will just keep swimming.
Either way,
I will have the sky, the land,
and the sea.
Is it true we screaming when we are asleep and dreaming
Is it true we can't see tears when the rain hits our face
Is it true that excitement that makes our hearts race
Is it true love that keeps the world turning
Around
Is it true that in outer space there is no sound
Is true finding someone to love a big part of our life
Is it true you have to be someons husband or wife
Is it true you can live on bread alone and can you get moisture just by sucking a stone
Is it true that fish dont drink water and is true that your son can turn into your daughter
Are these things I ask all true I don't know
That's why I am asking you.
6/26/17
You don't want to be caught in the cross hairs
Realize that at times life is not fair
After having minimal guidance
I stood in pure silence
With very little thoughts of violence
While I was trying to understand the science
Nearby some oak and ecualapytus, the size of giants
I worked on my self-reliance
And a broken down appliance
That sat lifeless
Then followed through on any assignments
No desire to forfeit this
In the first stage of metamorphosis
During times of water shortages
Tired of all this boring stuff
But I'm just warming up
From morning past dusk
Power outages and interruptions
Technical difficulties and malfunctions
Across all junctions
And near any ships intact or sunken
It either went with or against custom
In a world full of power and corruption
Don't count your chickens before they hatch
And expect it all to last
Especially if you didn't study up on all the facts
They say lose lips
Sink ships
Even cruise ships
And any big fish
I help up my two fists
But didn't expect anyone to dig this
Even though this all has been true ****
For many, it always made them think a bit
I try to make it all worthwhile
So we can see the people on Earth smile
Except for any that try to hurt a child
My style is compiled
From all the traveled miles
Even though it's still rather wild
Life, nothing short of miraculous
Above and below buried and unearthed amethyst
Near and far from fields growing radishes
Among objects moving or inanimate
Like a mannequin
You can hear the sounds of an occasional ambulance
Whether or not involving, accidents or something scandalous
Some of which occured over, cannabis and short-handedness
Cause minimal to much damages
Close to and beyond any contaminants
As well as inhabitants
It all couldn't be unanimous
And this is far from my final analysis
Sickle moon gray above the waves
The quiet directionless wind
On the earth, and in the sky above
A veil is drawn, cutting into dark spots
Slowly round and round,
Murals are etched into the sand
The statue waits with eyes unblinking
Silent wonder, solitary armless stone
Twisted, counter-pose, forever fixed,
Wonder, what does she see under water?
Rusty bows and sterns, shipwrecks,
Silvery fish fluttering in and out of hulls, a
graveyard outside hallowed ground
Archway, the great doors dark and closed
Murky, wet light pours in vaulted windows
Through water-worn edges of stained glass
Seaweed tendrils curl around an altar
Once, quiet processions marched up the aisle
They are now only filtered ghosts,
Murmuring, wavy impressions of what was
Forever, the tide calls upon the great steeple
And the lonely under-toe,
Pulls a mote in the sand around her,
To protect the bastion in the sea,
Dark, lovely, lost forever to those above
Missing: God Incarnate
By Mark D. Stucky
Last month I lost Jesus.
Maybe he is not lost,
but I cannot find him
even in usual places.
I couldn’t find him in my prayers.
I couldn’t find him in my church.
I couldn’t find him in the hymnal.
I couldn’t find him in the Bible.
If I mislaid keys, you’d ask,
“Where did you put them last?”
I am not sure where I put Christ last.
Even if I knew, would he be there still?
Or would he have simply wandered off?
Maybe to watch over a falling sparrow,
or to catch fish while strolling across a lake,
or to salvage another stray sinner like me?
Should I nail a “Missing” sign
next to a lost cat poster?
Or maybe offer a reward
on the side of milk cartons?
I hope I find him soon.
I’m feeling lost myself.
(First published in Spirit Fire Review, October 2023. See also my poems “Salvation in an App Store” and “God’s on Mute.”)
(Image by Monica Rodriguez on Pixabay.com.)
Off-chances, no horizons
without perspectives, what would be
of us all ...!?
Without roads,
without a path, what would be of the feet !?
What would become of the wings
without space and dreams ...
Heaven would be,
without stars
and angels ...
What would become of the sea,
no water,
without fish ...
What would become of the forest,
without trees,
no bugs ...
What would be from the air,
without birds,
Without Men...
what would be of love,
without lovers ...
What would become of death,
without mortals ...
What would become of life,
without those who live ...
What would become of humanity
Without Men...
It would be for men.
without father... ?
May Morning
A strange morning, clouds look like they were trying
to put up wallpaper, but the work was too much, and they left the project.
Drips like glue fell into the sea and became flakes of sunlight.
An aeroplane crossed the sky. It looked old, and its wheels were not retracted
perhaps it was a private plane doing a bit of exercise keeping its owner alert.
A seagull flew past it was a big one hardly flapping its wing, how I envy its flight.
So, why are you not happy?
I have seen so many oceans they are all the same…wet.
The oceans have many colours, grey, blue and grey, and I never saw a red sea.
The building is waking up, lifts in motion, slamming of doors.
Yet, I miss the woodland, the small terns where fish and fairies play; I shall not be there
and ask if they miss me?
We are what we think…....
our brains think in language
language serves as a vehicle of words
like musical notes
Words carry a vibratory signature
creating waves into
the expanse of space
playing the instrument of language
feeling the energy reverberate in the bodies
echo tranquility to the amplitude of my cherished words
Grateful
Andy
Sweetie
Sleepyhead
Greenery
Enjoy
Freedom of choices
Fresh air
Stillness
content
Abundance
awareness
Thank you
trees
????
Walk
Garlic
fishing
Top of the world
Dishwasher
Bedtime