Long Fishing net Poems
Long Fishing net Poems. Below are the most popular long Fishing net by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fishing net poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m sitting silently listening to the swoosh swoosh of the sea
Children paddle in icy sapphire water, so young and carefree
Their screams of innocent laughter are ringing in my ear
I reminisce of my childhood and dream of yesteryear
Of days before computers and the electronic age
Mobile phones weren’t invented, now they are all the rage
Bleep Bleep Bleep oh how irritating, it is a constant noise
But now they are essential to many young girls and boys
Life so full of simple pleasures, wind blowing through my hair
Running round barefooted with kites floating in mid air
Digging spectacular sandcastles with a dramatic moat
Splashing around in the sea together in a tiny little boat
Enjoying a perfect picnic on the golden sand
Getting an ice cream and it melting down my hand
Finding stunning starfish and a pretty pink seashell
Take them into school to display at show and tell
Climbing into craggy rock pools with a fishing net
Falling on the rocks getting clothes soaking wet
Bathing beauties on the beach topping up a tan
Suns rays beating down they wish they had a fan
08~-2~14
Written for Vibrant Verse Contest 2 Sponsored by Charlotte Puddifoot
I have many times before,
Tried to walk away from this poetry of mine,
But as usual ended up in a state of deplore.
Alas, this life of abhor has grown into an addicted entwine.
My life as a poet is all cold sweat,
I guess is now my curse.
It is now trapped on a piece of paper like a laden fishing net,
My moments are trapped within its verse.
As I live my moments……`
My life is now but a dream,
And the dream is now my life.
I have no longer the need to scream,
these written words are a silent whisper akin a surgeon’s knife.
All my life I have had to be a fighter,
And my pen gave me my voice,
Now I know why I am a writer
who has won his fights without a noise.
My past is spiked and laced with mistakes,
I don’t have, any remorse or regret,
my mind and its temple have borne the bruises and aches,
Am smug about it and would like to relive it without being upset.
My devious past fuels my emotionally charged words and text,
And fires from within me the unchained rage,
Am never about it vexed or even perplexed,
As in this ink lies my sweat, blood & tears, stained & burnt but easy to gauge.
My verses are my memories of the bygone,
The paper on which I write on is my stage,
My tainted pen nib is my microphone,
And my life is perched on what was once a blank page.
For quite some time now this pen is my teacher,
And my mind controls these words I write,
These verses guide me out of darkness and make me richer,
And become the beacon, my guiding light.
I have spent so much time alone,
That I needed someone to say hi
My life was stuck in silence and blown,
I pick up this pen when feelings low have to glide by.
As I scribble my dreams,
The ink replaces my tears,
The verses consume my life with screams,
and I sculpt within them all my fears.
I have tried to walk away from this poetry,
But my life is snared up in a verse,
My life is trapped on a piece of paper,
My poetic life is now my curse.
Is it really my curse!!!!!!!!
Or a reflection of my thoughts to the happenings averse….
Into my poetry I must myself immerse
And sharpen my thoughts to make them diverse…….
And my life joyfully traverse
So now
I do not need to walk away from my poetry of mine
Align and live my life filled with mirth and sunshine.
There is a place where the land bows down to kiss the misty tide,
Where rolling waves bring memories of the place my heart resides.
There among the old fishing shacks that stretch along the shore,
I find the thing I’m longing for, in your sweet embrace once more.
We sit together on a weathered log I carve my initials on,
And as you mend the fishing net, I sing your favorite song,
“Oh Danny Boy”, falls on the wind and floats across the bay,
As you smile at me and melt my heart, with words you do not say.
Beneath a golden sun with the fish and the smell of wild flowers,
A little girl and her Grandpa, sit happily and while away the hours,
And when the sun dips in the bay, we put the mended nets away,
And hand-in-hand walk home again, to the end of a perfect day.
~~~~~~
Author: Elaine George
(In loving memory of Theodore Evans - My Grandfather)
Internet, internet, internet
It is neither a fishing net
Nor a mosquito net
But it caught everyone in its net.
When the internet was invented
New ways to connect were created.
It changed the world very fast
As it influenced people a lot.
The handwritten letters vanished
And mails became diminished.
Emails became the norm
With everyone looking at the cam.
Living very far wasn't bad
As you could instantly talk to your dad.
But some thing bad started happening
As people’s doors started closing.
Face-to-face talk decreased
As online messaging increased.
Everyone started typing
And alongside came down writing.
Although everyone seemed connected
They became socially disconnected.
But I am of the opinion
That we will all have a reunion.
We will all connect together
To make our world better.
Internet, internet, internet
It is neither a fishing net
Nor a mosquito net
But it is what connected our planet.
I have many times before,
Tried to walk away from this poetry of mine,
But as usual ended up in a state of deplore.
Alas, this life of abhor has grown into an addicted entwine.
My life as a poet is all cold sweat,
I guess is now my curse.
It is now trapped on a piece of paper like a laden fishing net,
My moments are trapped within its verse.
As I live my moments……`
My life is now but a dream,
And the dream is now my life.
I have no longer the need to scream,
these written words are a silent whisper akin a surgeon’s knife.
All my life I have had to be a fighter,
And my pen gave me my voice,
Now I know why I am a writer
who has won his fights without a noise.
My past is spiked and laced with mistakes,
I don’t have, any remorse or regret,
my mind and its temple have borne the bruises and aches,
Am smug about it and would like to relive it without being upset.
My devious past fuels my emotionally charged words and text,
And fires from within me the unchained rage,
Am never about it vexed or even perplexed,
As in this ink lies my sweat, blood & tears, stained & burnt but easy to gauge.
My verses are my memories of the bygone,
The paper on which I write on is my stage,
My tainted pen nib is my microphone,
And my life is perched on what was once a blank page.
For quite some time now this pen is my teacher,
And my mind controls these words I write,
These verses guide me out of darkness and make me richer,
And become the beacon, my guiding light.
I have spent so much time alone,
That I needed someone to say hi
My life was stuck in silence and blown,
I pick up this pen when feelings low have to glide by.
As I scribble my dreams,
The ink replaces my tears,
The verses consume my life with screams,
and I sculpt within them all my fears.
I have tried to walk away from this poetry,
But my life is snared up in a verse,
My life is trapped on a piece of paper,
My poetic life is now my curse.
Is it really my curse!!!!!!!!
Or a reflection of my thoughts to the happenings averse….
Into my poetry I must myself immerse
And sharpen my thoughts to make them diverse…….
And my life joyfully traverse
So now
I do not need to walk away from my poetry of mine
Align and live my life filled with mirth and sunshine.
Many regrets came from my time with Paulette
and one sad day she showed me a time I would never forget
We went dancing on the ice lake
after stuffing ourselves with her birthday cake
We did a lot more than slipping and sliding
we broke the ice and then went diving
But we didn't let the freezing water slow us
we continued to twirl (and hurl) without a fuss
The hibernating fish came to life
and pecked at us like mini knives
She looked into my eyes and cried
and said she felt that she would die
With that I put her into a pirouette
where she then got tied up in a fishing net
Oh Paulette, my words for you will always be known
as I wrote the epitaph for your gravestone...
"Fire, air, earth and water couldn't be her price,
she had to choose the Ice."
Tuesday, December 14, 2021
Enter the 'Paulette - 1' Poetry Contest
Sponsor Julia Ward
I saw....
Two black crystal balls
Rimmed with white
Reflecting an indefinable emotion
Glowing with some intense passion
Riveting,
Entrancing!
Two eyes of oceanic depths
Relaying the most intimate message
What did they commune?
PERHAPS- they said silently- "I love you" (?)
So piercing were those eyes
That I couldn't stand their electric glare
From those eyes, rose the Promethean fire
Glistening like molten gold,
At once sending out,
The light of a hundred galaxies.
In the fire bursting through those eyes,
My body was turned into a conflagration
And my soul rippled like fermented wine.
Why didn’t I respond instantly
PERHAPS, I was so stunned,
That my body couldn’t follow the sense’s urging
An ocean was stirring within
Whose whirls could never again be tamed
In those flooding pools,
Let me cast my fishing net.
What catch, can I expect?
PERHAPS, the boon and bliss of a lifetime!
Hair is meant to grow long and unruly
Who am I to interfere with nature’s treaty with time?
A king’s crown a tangled mess,
so fashion forward of I to sport
the look of a fishing net
Yet I still prefer function, you see
I have salmon-like thoughts, those
zombified fiends stubbornly swim upstream
Keep coasting, keep coasting
Solutions are rarely abundant
However I have heard that
water makes an excellent solvent.
I may stay stationary, waiting
as my wounded body aches,
I worry not, for my head will go
wherever my healer takes
Perhaps then, he will raise my head tall
And my follicles will no longer fall.
Every morning and everyday
With a little hope and play
The fisherman wakes up early morning
When it shines or storming
He makes hooks for the start of day
He takes a nap and that’s okay
The nights he watches and sees
The sunset over the seas
He throws the fishing net
He hopes and prays the trap is set
He counts his counts in time
He then pulls and catches fish sublime
Through the night he does this
This is his work and he is in bliss
The day starts again, sunrise
He comes home with a catch for surprise
He catches different type of fish
The catch makes it on his dish
The extra fish will be sold
He needs the profit not fish that is old
Then the day begins again
As his life continues to make hooks began
Each and every morning with twist and bends
A jolly fisherman who takes naps and the day ends
A Jolly Fisherman
Date: 9/4/2022
Julia Ward
So unbelievably alive
A man puts out his fishing net
Without even a slight breeze or breath
while he waits … on the wriggling fish
Fluctuations in the sound of seagulls
A universe for the silent man
listening, longing and living
Exquisitely flight in all the right places
how could they knows
no harm from the sharp edges
They will hunt again tomorrow
In a sky blue horizon
and a crystal clear hymn from the ocean
All develop over time, with humility
Like the waves consume along the coast
19/02/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
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