Long Fishermen Poems
Long Fishermen Poems. Below are the most popular long Fishermen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fishermen poems by poem length and keyword.
The lake is alive with croaking frogs
bright and sunny to behold
filled with walkers and their dogs,
fishermen, their boats and poles;
but the wind dispersed
was harsh and rough,
soft and brisk at first
then completely cold enough
.
My dog and I stood proud and tall
we walked and played catch
with his favorite tennis ball
then rested and shivered in a seated sunny patch.
Too cold, much too cold
despite the cloudless, clear blue sky
and the gleaming sun above foretold
no warmth upon we could rely.
So, we came home
to biscuits and hot tea,
biscuits for him
tea for me,
then we rested with our tea and cake
two cold and chilly souls
sheltered from the cold upon the lake
resolved to go back some day for a gentler stroll.
THE JOY OF FISHING
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rods in hand, fisherman stand,
the weight of the world drifting away,
each cast—a gentle surrender,
their lines dancing over glassy reflections.
Dragonflies flit, their wings catching fire,
their laughter carries on the warm breeze,
echoing in the space where time softens,
and worries drift like clouds above.
Oh, the thrill of the tug,
the sudden pulse beneath the surface,
every nibble a promise,
every catch—a moment suspended.
stars emerge, shy and trembling,
the fishermen reel in not just the fish,
but memories woven into the fabric of night;
they pause, lost in the joy of fishing
The wind is up and the landscape is changing.
Like a bureaucratic comedy, tomorrow’s forecast calls for
‘strong winds,’ as if the gusts we’re seeing now aren’t
physical enough.
The big yachts that usually cluster offshore are gone.
They moved out, heading for deeper, more sheltered
anchorages, like the Golfe de Saint-Tropez.
We went to the outdoor Saint Tropez market this morning,
to get brugnon, abricots, rouge cherries, fresh bread and
tapenades. Fishermen in the harbor were working with
quiet anxiety to lash down and secure their boats.
On the beach, ocean waves are boring in on shore - sharper,
faster and frothier, rolling in more dramatically, tucking down
at the last second to break on the beach in sudden, forward
rolls - like you see on the gulf of Mexico.
Gulls, herons and swifts hang in the air, like sculptures in orbit,
not flapping - just rocking back and forth above the waves.
Clouds rush by, like a ticker-tape Rorschach test and the
umbrella pines are starting to shimmy like bobblehead dolls.
I wonder if the giant show kites will be up tomorrow,
the big 40-foot long ones - the whales, dragons, caterpillars,
and octopuses - I hope so.
We’ll have to watch those from the hills, because sand whips
along the beach, flowing like a sandpaper river to sting
bare ankles like swarms of bees.
We had to tie-off our suites sheer Belgian linen drapes earlier,
they were thrashing like living flags of surrender.
I delight in this kind of domestic chaos, it makes me feel alive.
.
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Songs for this:
Riviera Life by Caro Emerald
Sail on sailor by the beach boys
Colors Of The Wind - End Title by Vanessa Williams
.
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notes
brugnon = a French nectarine-like fruit
Tapenade = a dip of puréed olives, capers, and anchovies and olive oil
It is not the case that Jesus ever physically rose from the dead,
Only that he was spoken of as alive afterwards by his followers,
Because his offer of medical treatment to the poor stood, the fed,
As it was obvious that it was moral to validate such behaviours.
John had seen a beggar with a bloody leg and attended quickly,
But he was spat on by rich by-passers who would loose status;
They would have to sacrifice the prestige of their visit specifically,
That doctor’s visit just for them as part of life in the wealthy stratus.
Because he had been Jesus’s best friend he looked up and replied,
“Jesus is risen,” and that communicated his stalwartness and resilience,
That Jesus’ principle was not going to go away as just one man’s tide,
But that his friends and the apostles were set on continuing his brilliance.
And Andrew who’d been a fisherman before he’d befriended Jesus,
Knew all the kids of most of the other fishermen, and some were sick,
And because Jesus had taught him medical practises as there was a fuss,
Andrew made their children better in one and posited Jesus would stick.
But their neighbours chided him and scoffed, obviating them as poor,
Not entitled to a doctor’s time, and not entitled to free health care,
So Andrew emphasised that these people were his friends, the lure,
And that he was no scare but that he would himself by ignorance scare.
The intelligensia of the time, or the prophets, had predicted Jesus resurrection,
Not his actual one, but just as a euphemism for Jesus’ power after his death;
When people said “I believe in Jesus!” or claimed that he was risen in dedication:
They asserted it by their acts and so could claim the resurrection in a breath.
The busy Moon forgot about the Tide.
She left it out all day upon the sand.
And when it found itself alone topside,
there mischief was immediately at hand.
It washed the muddy Rocks until they shone,
then dragged in trash to mess them up again,
it chilled the chubby babies to the bone
and tugged their pudgy feet to pull them in.
It rearranged the peaceful ocean floor
and wrapped the kelp into a tangled wreath,
then turned up all the driftwood on the shore
and tickled every creature underneath.
It tricked the Fishermen it came across
by pulling at the lines they'd cast about,
took cages that it saw the Trappers toss
and let the little Crabs and Lobsters out.
It fooled with every Fish that floated by,
it sprayed the Seagulls when they flew too near,
it pooled in spots it KNEW the Sun liked dry
and played with all the boats along the pier.
It sueezed the baby Squid until they laughed
then painted funny pictures with their ink
and after it had taught them all this craft,
it swirled away like water down a sink.
It called to Clouds that hung around the sky
and asked to meet them halfway in between
then teased them until they began to cry
but just to make it rain, not to be mean...
The Tide adored its mischief and it would
have gleefully continued on its spree
but for the Moon, who for the greater good,
came up at last and let it out to sea!
Morning keeps transitioning into morning and daylight keeps shouting into my face, the weather is gasping for breath and the temperature is pulling sweat out my gut.
I watch the sun rising beyond the mountains with warm sentiment hanging loose as it made its way to the center of the skies and spread its heat on the passersby.
It is a form of heat that no one can bear; it drains your energy and ruins your appetite and send worms crawling in your empty stomach.
I can still feel this intense energy moving around the town; it is the magnetic energy that propels the magnetic field around, the radiation level is high and the electric waves are vibrating in the sky and I don’t have any time to die.
The barn yard animals are sound asleep but the rooster keeps disrupting the hens sleep, it is poking its beak in hens back and keeps pulling off its feather frock. The cats and dogs were just on time to save the hens from the nuclear divide.
The morning keeps revolving around me, the pulling the energy out of me. I can hear the vessels rolling in the sea carrying tons of gifts for you and me.
Missiles are pounding in the air and rockets are creating holes in the ground that look like feathers and crowns.
Everyone gathers around staring into the dry creators in the ground, while the fishermen in the sea came back to shore after the missiles damage the side of their boats.
The morning keeps floating above me and the sun began to burn the air sending whispers everywhere.
And the mountain goats with horns like bulls exit from the mountain like a good soldier should and the heat continues to penetrate the asphalt in the street.
I stood behind the tree and watch the universe melts in the third degree while the superior man with weakness in his field send reinforcement everywhere to strengthen his depleted army.
But neither time or place knows when the battle for the soul is complete and the metal on the earth will transform into dirt.
then he began telling
the story
of the magical land and his love
tears rolling down
his cheeks
broken hearted
in the magical land
of Tir Na Nog
just as he was
ending the story
in great weariness
with the pain
inside his heart
swept completely
away in feelings
of painful emotion
closing his eyes
he fell into
eternal slumber
even to this very day
fishermen and lighthouse keepers
they sometimes
see on foggy nights
when the moon
is full face
a shimmering
white horse dancing
on the top
of the waves
along the shores
of Ireland
Niamh the red haired maiden
still rides the horse
forever searching
for her lost love ,
her soul will never rest
until she finds
her beautiful Oisin
in her his love
never died .
this story was told to me by a granny when i was young i cried
it was so sad yet even now so beautiful
Darkness falls
Here & everywhere –
Night falls
Bats & owls rule in the darkness;
When will dawn be born?
When will Soja-man count
Counting the myriad of his booties
On the wounds of my Africa?
When darkness falls over mother earth,
Night dims the face of Niger;
Then, hiding fishes emerge,
Countless, as they are, singing
And dancing on the face of Niger
Drumming to the shores
Befriending night & our Niger,
Celebrating the fisherman’s exit
Like a funeral ceremony;
As darkness falls on the region
A stone thrown into the deep ocean
Each clans-man clamours for an idle bed,
Like stragglers fleeing from battlefront,
Every property is left unguarded
To the custody of night
To those possessive arms of darkness,
Then, night sits over the clan like a chief!
Night falls over Africa,
No moon is visible here
Not even a fading star where we lie down;
But, what happened to her bright moon?
Would the sun notice to shine
Over her soil soiled with her own blood?
Here, Soja-man plants his huge feet,
The boot-feet sink the sand of the soft earth;
And leaning on a staff of the silent gun
He bestrides, possessing all the clan
Like an agent of night –
But, when will he count his booties
With all those wounds of new Africa?
Now, he comes here
Wearing a garment of many colours,
Are you Mr. President?
Aren’t you Miss Contract?
Then, Mrs. Administrator?
O, my mistake? Dr. of Law, the Judge?
If none, you are all of the above!
Soja-man, a ruler to be defended,
A servant to be served by all –
Brother, he’s Prof. Contradiction!
Everywhere night persists;
When will day break?
When will the sun smile at my Niger
Soja-man reigns in the darkness;
He eats up each nation
Boring into nature’s treasures
Like ants boring into dry woods;
Yet, ants don’t eat the raw flesh of brother-ants!
Poor warrior! rude ant!
Pretending in a modern benevolence –
Na power dey hungry am!
Wetin you mean, Soja-man?
Na you birthright to rule?
Yes! to rule by boot & bullet?
Darkness falls
Bats & owls rule in the darkness;
When will dawn be born?
Would fishermen ever come to the shore
Of new Africa springing?
Search diligently until you find it and when you find it run a thousand miles and deliver it, do not hide it in the bushes or in the trees you must deliver it to thee, look out for the vagabonds on the way, hold your head straight and don’t listen to what they say, they are distractors that lurks around to delay the time but the universe knows exactly what is mine I have work hard to earn it and you have to deliver it, they will deliver the verdict next week and at last your sprit will be free.
Climb the mountain in the East, stand on the summit and penetrate the vastness of the land the layers that lies beyond the sea, wrap your shadows around it and pull the energy towards you and feel your body sway with the wind and feel the light shining within, let your spirit grow and let the sorrows go;
Fill the empty spaces with laughter and feel the joy of tomorrow.
Let the wind blow and calm your soul, let the wind blow
And make you whole, tear down the branches of time
And fill your heart with the divine, stretch your hands towards
The sea and say a prayer for thee, listen to the sound of the roaring waves and the chatters of fishermen out in the deep
And watch the mad waves rocking their boat to and fro, they
Don’t have much further to go; the seas are rough and the sharks are waiting with empty guts.
Walk with me to the next end of the sea and unfold the mystery
Embedded in ocean bed, that is where the sharks dined on twenty two hundreds head, not a trace of it could be found when the left the frantic town, but the light discovered and rise it up to the surface of the sea.
Reveal the mysteries of the sea and the universe will rescue thee
Send me a thousand fleet of ships were are going to take the final dip we will rid the universe its pain and your life will never be the same. Anchor the ships and sit with me and I will tell you more, the light I me is shine bright and we will have a grand jubilee in the sky, wave your banners above the sea and plant the flags in the air we are coming to see you over there.
There was this old couple walking on the beach…an old Grandma and Grandpa…and the more they walked the more they smiled at all the wondrous things they saw.
For they realized as they walked the beach…free of borderlines and fences
How one simple walk along the beach is a treat for all the senses..
Here are but a few things they experienced before their walk was done:
They saw a sky so blue it didn’t seem real…they saw clouds painted by the sun
They saw those same clouds block the painter…and immediately became aware…of how their colorschanged to blue…and there was a coolness in the air.
They saw pelicans glide high overhead…they saw sandpipers dart…and scurry
They saw people walking…some moving slow…others in a hurry.
They saw a sister chasing her brother through the water…her brother laughing…paying her no mind…They saw their father keeping a watchful eye…not too far behind.
They saw fishermen with lines cast…with giant catches in their thoughts.
They saw herons and egrets waiting patiently so see what they had caught.
They saw a child and his mother jumping waves while holding hands…then heading back to shore to make a castle in the sand.
They felt the coolness of the water as they floated on the waves…They saw dolphins and huge ships…They felt the salt spray on their faces and tasted it on their lips.
They smelled the ocean, the sand…and sunscreen…aromas they adore…
They listened to the roar of the ocean as it crashed upon the shore
Sometimes they stopped their walk…this was totally unplanned..
So they could listen to the stories hidden in the wind…the waves…the sand
And when their walk was finished…they were left, as usual, without speech…
glad to be together…
one old couple
walking on the beach.