Long Fisherman Poems
Long Fisherman Poems. Below are the most popular long Fisherman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fisherman poems by poem length and keyword.
the potter tries to pinch happiness from water and clay
the painter seeks perfect light to keep the beast at bay
the poet keeps blue away-splashing black upon a page
the pianist strokes the perfect note where angels often play
the troupe dances in circles to keep from the darkest ledge
the father caresses a book to sweep demons from his head
the father works eighty hours a week to keep the pantry fed
the mother weaves a lullaby, then gently puts her heart to bed
the pilgrim braves a mountain where a virgin once had prayed
the fisherman casts a net of faith into the unforgiving waves
the prophet gifts a message to lift those swallowed by the cave
A mindful God crushes evil; soothes suffering, and lovingly creates.
A fisherman entered my favourite pub
He said he’d been fishing for that evening’s grub
He carried some salmon, a couple of brace
Which rather explained the big grin on his face
He said to the landlord, ‘Can I use your fridge,
For these fish I caught from down under the bridge?’
‘But how did you catch them?’ the landlord enquired
‘That’s easy,’ he said, ‘but a mate is required.’
‘You don’t need a rod for there’s no need to angle,
Your mate holds your feet while upturned you dangle.
And when a fish jumps you must grab him real quick
And knock him out cold with a rock or a brick.’
Mick, in the corner, gave Patrick a wink
‘That’ll do me,’ he said, ‘finish your drink.’
Soon Patrick’s over the bridge where he dangles
With Mick holding tight onto each of his ankles
Suddenly Pat shouted, ‘Pull me up, Mick.’
Mick gasped, ‘Have you got a fish, boy, that was quick’
But Patrick screamed, ‘No, but I hear a loud humming’
‘So, pull me up now... there’s a bloody train coming!’
From the moment we could think…and looked out on the Earth and stars
we have searched for answers from the universe…as to who…and why…we are.
Before we knew some of the answers…before we were better informed…
we created stories in our minds…that’s how myths were formed.
The other morning walking along the beach…as often is our plan
I noticed there along the shore…a solitary fisherman.
With only a rod and reel…no kind of bait with him…not one…
It looked to me like this lonely fisherman
was trying to catch the sun.
I watched him cast his line and saw him hook the sun…
I couldn’t believe my eyes!
because as he reeled in his line…the sun began to rise.
Everything I thought I knew about the sun…
was changing right before my eyes…
because the more he reeled in his line…
the higher the sun would rise.
When the sun was up and rising on its own…
having broken through the dawn
I looked along the shoreline…and the fisherman…was gone.
Had I just watched a normal sunrise…or perhaps…instead
was all this just a myth…created in my head.
In a world where science has many answers…
as to the world we’re dealing with…
I like to think there’s still some room…
for a little imagination…a little myth.
And perhaps when it comes to reality and myth…
a little compromising…
Because I like the ida….of a lonely fisherman
whose job every morning…
is to make sure the sun is rising.
McCaffrey, a champion golfer in his own mind
All bluster and bull, you know the kind
Like the fisherman who’s big one’s always got away
He will never change, even at the end of the day
One-day last autumn, maybe at the end of the summer
Anyway, for McCaffrey it turned out to be a bummer
Playing eighteen holes in the championship match
Tried to look good playing off scratch
Everything went smoothly out on the first nine
Holed out the thirty six in thirty nine
Out on the tenth all went to pot
He hit a large Kangaroo with his driving shot
Retrieving the ball was a bit of a disaster
The Roo decided to show him who was the master
Up with his legs, catches McCaffrey off balance, and unsteady
When he should have been aware of the danger, been at the ready
A painful kick in the groin had the golfer down for the count
As the Kangaroo hoped off over a nearby grass, mount
McCaffrey now seething got into deep stress
How he finished eighteen holes is anybody’s guess
In the nineteenth hole, consuming drink like it was going out of fashion
Well oiled at closing time a home he went dashing
A cut across the course, striding out nicely, though a dark night
Tripped and fell into a bunker and went out like a light
The Ladies foursome the next morning, teed off at nine
A bright sunny day, everything fine
Arrived at the tenth, driver in hand had she
Mrs Montgomery walked up to the tee
With a good whack from her right hand, the ball was sent aloft
Came down with her ego, it fell in the bunker sand
A loud scream erupted and all heard around the course
A mouthful of expletives greeted the women as McCaffrey crawled out in full force
Mrs Montgomery as bad tempered as he
Took a swipe with a number nine iron right onto his knee
Swearing and cursing McCaffrey sloped away
Fortunately for him to fight another day
Nursing his ego, his groin and his knee
Arrived home hoping to get sympathy, and a nice cup of tee
But Mrs McCaffrey was waiting, and whack, McCaffrey had another bruise
With her frying pan in hand had no time for any excuse
Not impressed at all at her husbands night out
Her heading still aching, then there was the gout
From all the wine consumed the night before
For the rest of the day McCaffrey was ill, and felt rather sore
Mother always said that education would lead us to the land of success
Mother always had away of making education fun
Mother said a little hard work and devotion never harmed anyone
Mother believed that hope and faith worked hand in hand
Mother always had away with words
Mother once said that education would make you a fisherman of all fishermen
I never understood what mother meant
Until I grew out of childhood and became a man
Little children listen to the words of the wise
Education is the food of survival
Without it you will wither
Like the leaves on the tree top on a cold wintery night
The wind will blow violently against your branches
And not even your charm or your good looks will be able to stand its might
Lack of education would be your downfall
So listen to the words of the wise that no longer walks the pathway of a fool
I too was a child
But now I am a man
Mother was right
Education opens the doorway to great things.
Dawn strums the morning with a melody of waves
My head is pounding, I'm in a daze
I just can't remember how I ended up here
On an island in the middle of nowhere
I stumble to my feet with sudden despair
The mosquitoes have feasted on me all night
It dawns on me that I could die here
But I know I must put up a fight
There's an abundance of coconuts here
A source of hydration, and food as well
I gather as much as I can
While thinking of ways to build a fire
I got soothing relief from an aloe plant
And applied to my itching skin
A seagull comes by daily
To watch me and take it all in
I found a flint stone which I'll use
To start my signal fire
The seagull watched as my fire trembled to life
It danced as it became a blaze
I breathe a sigh of relief
As to the roaring sea I gaze
After six months passed, I still had hope
I'd be rescued, it helped me cope
I kept hoping someone would see my signals,
Perhaps even a fisherman
Then a few days later I see a boat!
And it's coming towards me!
It had seen the signal
I'll be rescued finally!
The season of drought ravaging my heart ended on a mystical note,
It gave way to floods; massive and destructive;
Floods which pulled me in their flow
And bid me to sink in a pond
A pond made of a mosaic consciousness
A pond which bid me to see the life I had been living
As being naught but an attempt to escape a maze
A maze, yet, so intelligent and responsive
As to be able to respond to my desires
To my resentments, to my gratitude, to my whims
To my senseless tantrum-ing!
I let myself float in there
While my soul awakened,
Opened up and roused from its dose!
Pray, I then came face to face with my the guardian of my heart!
He was no fisherman
Trying to catch souls trapped in that mysterious pond
He was no poacher
He was, rather, an angel, shining brightly
Illuminated with his own sun
And radiating warmth and goodness!
I'm happy to see you here, he said
All these years you have been living blinded
Caring never to revel of the gifts that life has bestowed on you
Caring never to savor the melodies emanating from the moon
The melodies I play in heaven
The melodies I play at midnight
When I cannot find sleep!
From now on, I expect you to live your life
As if it were a walk through a garden
Relish of it
Every bit of it
Even if sometimes
You shall have to face more droughts
And other times, you shall be swept by surging river waters
Relish of it
For it is not your home!
Your home is here with me, in the mosaic pond of consciousness
Found in an abode, up above the clouds!
Having heard and taken note of these words
I felt the rays of the sun blur my closed eyes
I opened them and stood up
I was under an oak tree, I noted
Somewhere, at the borders of our seen world
Somewhere, where the roads end
And give way to paths still not taken by the lot of humankind!
I turned around and walked
While keeping on my face
A most radiant smile
The chimera world shall be mine someday
The chimera world, with bliss and peace
Have I been promised
A feat, it is
Enough to calm me down
But pray,
Fret not!
Keep faith,
It shall be yours too!
On summer, fall, winter and spring days, I roar over jagged rocks,
how people love to come and watch my crashing journey!
The story of my life began in 1831, that is when I was created,
humans made me, before I was just a trickle, now I am beautiful;
eagles soar above my mighty, crashing waves and ducks visit my pools.
Bike paths and walking paths through lush greenery flank my sides,
even strong fish swim beneath my tempest;
and in the trees birds nest and chirp and tweet all day.
until night quiets their constant songs.
To visit me at night is a thrilling experience as my mist embraces you.
In the winter, I have a special beauty of snow covered rocks and frozen waves.
From a dam, I have a fifteen foot drop into a gorge that winds and bends for miles,
under the blazing sun, rain and snow I am a dangerous surging torrent;
loud my cobalt blue water crashes on ancient rocks creating a white foam.
Really I was created to divert water to a long winding canal system, I am the beginning,
I hear the sounds of laughter and see the tourists watching my rapid flow;
do they realize that sometimes I have claimed a swimmer or a fisherman?
Even those who have tried to kayak my rapids have failed,
and their life's ended tragically . . .
Until recently people could come a sit on the rocks close to my roar.
Can you not see how dangerous I can be? It is the nature of me,
and once I held a girl with hair as soft as a spider web;
nudging her, I carried her to my bank and she was saved by fishermen.
Always she visits me, in summer, fall, winter and spring,
lulled by my roar, she says that I am beautiful and still she loves me . . .
___________________________________
June 15, 2016
Poetry/Acrostic/Personification/Oh, The Beautiful Rideau Canal
Copyright Protected, ID 16-800-671-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, A Place Called Beautiful
sponsor, Janis Thompson
Second Place
What manner of man is this that even the sea and wind obey
For Jesus was asleep in the boat with the Apostles on that day
When suddenly the distress in these experienced fisherman was clear
For the sea so quickly whipped into a tempest filling these men with fear
Never seeing such wrath and fury they came to the Lord with this
And in this the Lord was remiss in saying know you not to even worry
But then the Lord soon arose and He rebuked the winds and the sea
What manner of man is this we see as where once fear was now faith shows
Reaching Gergesenes Jesus was met by two possessed by evil
Jesus' Presence tormented both for they certainly knew of God's Will
Asking that Jesus cast them out into a grazing herd in the distance
Jesus said go as the herd jumped into the sea, the herders telling everyone hence
And so the people all met and decided that this Jesus must leave
For their profit they couldn't retrieve but knew better than to beset
So they told Him He had to go that He could not stay on their coast
In trying to be a good host we should all just allow His Light to glow
A jolly fisherman came ashore
in his old boat with just one oar.
He must have two to row back home;
with only one, his boat would roam.
And with no fear, he sang out loud
a song to which he danced and bowed-
a jolly song that asked the sea
to bring his oar back- one, two, three!
He smiled and danced a jolly way
and twirled and whirled in grand display-
when all at once, the waves splashed high!
He smiled and breathed a happy sigh!
For heading towards the sandy beach
his oar was almost within reach
brought in by dolphins, safe and sound-
the fisherman's lost oar was found!
The dolphins love their jolly friend-
and on their help, he can depend!
August 17, 2022