Long Fisher Poems
Long Fisher Poems. Below are the most popular long Fisher by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fisher poems by poem length and keyword.
When the sun set, far away
Across the mountains above.
Splashing it's rays on the surface of nature,
When birds and crickets are chirping
And the frogs and crows are croaking,
When sweet breeze is blowing
From the woods of solitude,
In the meanwhile, I think of your rossy smiles
Like sunrise in the altitude.
When Fisher men paddle their boats home
After a hard earned fishing,
When country women are grinding grains
For evening food,
When the children are playing, dancing to
The melodies of string guiter,
I sit alone near the bamboo fence and
Review your words in smiles and closed eyes.
In the meanwhile, the thoughts of you
Knock me off my feet.
For when the sunset far away in the west,
When canary birds are orchestrating from their nest,
Across the valleys and vast arctic,
I walked in the woods full of glee,
Thinking of you with a melody in my heart.
When the sunset, always for you,
Taking away my blue, singing
For you with a heart so true.
When the sunset far away in the west.....
CHARLESMELODY
(Lightning Ink).
Cat three-tooth, cat stone-deaf, cat sidewinder walk,
Old Bealman stalked the croaking, the croaking,
with forepaws meek stroking
airs of a summer cool night.
Bealman, Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Bealman—frog fisher & free.
Delphinium, the roses, lupine interposes
a shadow of fortressed green leaf
disguises the notion my Bealman supposes—
to seize, dismember it through,
make self-concocted, dishering frog stew.
Bealman, Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Bealman—frog fisher & free.
Night hours accounting, morning’s surmounting,
a bird warning Bealman, his patience to thin.
Croaking still blending, a flower stalk was bending,
two legs, peaking out, sent Bealman straight in.
Bealman, Oh my Bealman, Meow & Sealman,
Pacing, still racing, one two three man.
Frog fisher & free.
I saw Bealman beaming; I saw Bealman beaming.
How cats manage beaming I’ll wonder again.
Since Bealman was twenty, any beaming is plenty.
I loved my old Bealman, my frog fisher friend.
Bealman, Bealman, my meow dear Sealman,
Frog fisher & free.
The kids are in bed - there are dishes to do
Some washing, ironing, paperwork too
Children, office, housework, sometimes I think life’s hard
But it isn’t really, not when it’s compared
To my mums, who rose up early and who was never late
Lighting the coal fire, sitting in the grate
She then cooked breakfast on a range,
Haven’t things for me, now changed?
Over the range for hours mum would slave
Cooking meals, whereas I have a microwave
And a vacuum, to clean this house of mine
Mum used to beat rugs on her washing line,
I have gas central heating, to keep the house warm
For my waking up to electric alarm
Then straight into the bathroom to have a shower
With instant hot water, mum had to wait hours
For the water to boil in her dolly tub
With its mangle, her weeks washing to scrub
A washing machine, daily, washes my clothes
What I’d do without it, heavens knows
And only a larder and pantry had mum,
No fridges or freezers, with meals ready done;
Between rudding steps and the range black leading,
She always had time for games and for reading,
My children don’t bother to go out to play
They stay in their rooms, on computers all day,
I guess each generation, has its ‘hard times’
I suppose at the moment, I feel this is mine
But, on reflection, of the life my mum had
I consider myself lucky; my ‘hard time’ is not so bad.
© Janette Fisher – June 1995
I wrote this poem about 15 years ago when I was a bank manager and my girls were about 12 and 10
The way the nurse looked at me, told me
That something wasn’t quite right
It’s why I‘d gone to the surgery that day
I’d been feeling nauseous all night,
The nurse called the doctor, who came to say
“We’re going to start you off, right away.”
They told me I had pre-eclampsia
A condition both dangerous and rare
But not to worry, that my baby and I,
Would receive the best of care
They put me to bed, and told me to rest
Then every five minutes, took a blood pressure test
The doc gave me a valium injection
To bring my blood pressure down,
Ten minutes later he came back again
The smile on his face, replaced by a frown
“I’m sorry Janette - your blood pressure’s too high
If we don’t operate right this minute – you’ll die!”
They gave me the anaesthetic,
As they wheeled me down corridors grey
And as we approached the theatre doors,
I could feel myself drifting away
The last thing I remember, before slumber serene
Was the theatre staff, standing there, all dressed in green
When I eventually came round, when I finally awoke
Hooked to monitors, drugged, feeling sore
I received such a shock, I shot up in bed
Pulling all the drips down to the floor,
The doctors and nurses then came rushing in
To find out, what caused the alarm bells to ring
They told me I’d been in a coma
For two weeks, I’d been out of this world
That the op had gone well, and I now
Was the mum, of a beautiful, baby girl
She was doing quite well, though still a bit weak,
I was totally too dumbfounded to speak!
Two weeks of my life are now missing,
Absent time, I shall never recall
But if not for those doctors and nurses
I would never have been here at all,
For my life, and that of my daughter they saved
And for that I’ll be grateful, to the end of my days.
© Janette Fisher – April 1983
This poem was written after the birth of my first daughter who is now 27
You have never experienced fishing until you’ve fished from a dragon.
As far as I am concerned after this experience, no other seat will do.
Dussley, my dragon, entered the lake without making a sound.
I enjoyed the serenity of the lake so translucent and blue.
We sat in silence, enjoying the quietude of the mystical realm.
There were no bullfrogs here, and damselflies do not make noise.
Dussley was as still as the forest trees that surrounded this water hole.
A catfish jumped out of the water, showing off his whole body.
I figured he would be tasty eating, but difficult to catch.
Some of the savvy fish like to tease us fisher faeries.
A bluegill glided past my dragon’s claw; Dussley did not move.
He is the best fishing partner I will ever have, he is the berries!
Wayward sea bearing daughter;
Writer, poet, author;
Sailing of God's promises;
Sea worthy you be worthy;
Searching for you;
Beloved sunflower;
You whom had father of three;
One of them, thee;
~
You've gone on unto God's garden;
Dearly departed;
We now miss yes, continue to (honor you);
5-24-2021
Not just the last poem;
It's just the beginning;
You've been chosen;
Choices prayers needed;
We're believing;
Your words shall be history rising from the sea;
Daughter of father of 3;
~
O' rolling seas, wait for me;
Am still a fisher woman;
Spreading words placed in poems;
I've not fallen yet I've risen;
No sickness takes me I'm greatly in bound
To the heavenly waters in the the skies now
Words now reigns down from heavenly watch tower;
Life lives on Words dire this is so she inspired
I pay homage and dedicate this verse to Poetess Carolyn Devonshire;
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
8/8/21
Most people who meet her, consider her charming
But she has ghoulish traits, they’d find quite alarming
With her gleaming blonde tresses and sparkling blue eyes
Her cherubic features are just a disguise
For although she emits a celestial aura,
Angelic pastimes, quite simply, abhor her
Where other girls play with their ‘Barbie’ dolls
She has mystic wars with her hideous Trolls
Her peers, read Enid Blyton in Bed
She takes Stephen King, with his tales of the dead
And, when it comes to the movies she’s seen
A Nightmare on Elm Street, Hallow’een,
Poltergiest, Psycho, The Thing, The Blob too
These are just to name but a few
There’s nothing she likes more than a good ‘chiller’
With ghosts, ghouls and monsters, or psychotic killers
She watches the Grand Prix, to watch the cars crash
She loves to see the players fouled at a soccer match,
Ice skaters, she wills to fall flat on their faces
And athletes, when running, to trip on their laces
Yet, despite her having such a sick and perverse mind
She’s loving and caring, gentle, sensitive, kind
Unselfish and thoughtful, advanced for her ten years
Who on watching Disney films, has been known to shed a tear
Although she won’t admit to it, it’s only herself, she fools
And I wouldn’t change one inch of her, my ‘angelic’ little ghoul.
© Janette Fisher – April 1995
This poem was written 15 years ago when my youngest was 10 - she hasn't changed a bit!!!!
Simon Peter was a lonely fisherman
Craving for success
In the only vocation he knew
But delay bugged him down
Disappointment dogged his every step
Then stepped in the savior of his soul
And massive breakthrough
Followed the failed fisherman
As Jesus put an end to his past
And gave birth to his future
As a fisher of men
Jesus did not consult his past
To give him the future destined for him
Jesus did not worry about
His theological background
He rather looked at his heart
And found him ready and available
Listen when He calls
And make yourself available
For He uses broken things
By man’s estimation
And qualifies them to work in His vineyard!
Stage set: Nineteen Seventy-Two
Enter threshold Jolly Jumper bouncing baby girl
toes grazing the shag
Next scene a little quicker
Clad in plaid she's a Big Wheels and corduroy blur
moving the plot along
Intermission (Orange Crush, Pop Rocks and Pixie Sticks)
Action: The games begin
Go Fish your Fisher Price Little People
out of the sandbox
you're too young to play with Matchbox
so cool until that Etch A Sketchy kid
sends your Slinky down the stairs
Plot twist: the corner store Mexican Jumping Beans
were infinitely more entertaining than Pet Rocks
The End
Well not "The End"
Training wheels are off and so is the star of the show
Careening towards the eighties
With her Choose Your Own Adventure collection in tow
18.02.25
Composed for Line Gauthier's
Where were you in the 70's?
* * * NOT HEADED FOR A CONTEST * * *
Jolly Holly wanted nothing more than to fish
In her entire life, she had made only one wish
All I need is a boat
One that will stay afloat
She had never been described as a sexy dish
Holly had other attributes. She sure could cook
And no one else was better at baiting a hook
With minnows and grubs
She stayed out of pubs
Because most men never gave her a second look
There was an air about her... not a pleasant one
It was a fishy smell that fellers liked to shun
Then one day she met Gus
A man, big as a bus!
He looked at Holly and said, "Take me fishin, hon."
Wasn't long, 'fore Gus moved in with Jolly Holly
The fished all day and made love each night, by golly
He married that lil lass
On a boat, catchin' bass
Got a collie and twin girls, Molly and Polly