“Better to shun the bait than struggle in the snare”
William Blake
With a fragile earth warm, I lure my Labeo rohita.
Minute minnows manage many magical Mackerels.
Shrimps attract snapper, arowana, and tilapia.
Aren't baits also in the form of bread, biscuits, and bagels?
Best cows as baits to lions, fleshy fawns as baits to tigers
Live dogs lure the crocodiles, and greens charm the elephants.
Covets, cravings, wants, wishes, inclinations, and desires
Are poured into the human psyche to find their relevance.
We consume the bait. Baits consume us. Irrationally!
With their colour, form, shape, beauty, and lure, I'm imprisoned.
I enter this trap, this hole, and this grave casually.
I struggled all through my life as though fate had commissioned
The piece of butter and cheese, with bread and fish relishes
Which being, I do not know, enjoys each of these dishes?
Categories:
mackerels, life, nature,
Form: Sonnet
Dawn arrives in a dark widow’s shawl.
A hard sea rubs raw
the knuckled bones of the shore.
The first thing a sailor sees as he dreams of arrival
are the white hands. Sometimes the hands
are land marooned seagulls,
sometimes the hands are the open fists of the sea.
When in a stony village by the waves
he disembarks from the tossing dark,
when he clambers over its sea walls
he laughs, but it is not a merry laughter
more a harsh cry of a wild and restless of joy.
The cobbled streets are shedding their scales.
Fish heads are poking through net curtains.
Mackerels swim in world-weary eyes.
Old men leave their cots
shave their whiskers with a clam shell.
Seaweeds hang like dreadlocks from dripping eves.
Bare cold feet roll over paved stones
all is slipping backwards.
A sailor must wash his face with beer
while bailing green water out of his shipwrecked eyes.
Categories:
mackerels, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Magazine Madame measures mammoth mackerels
Manipulating measurements, marking misguided memos
Momentous mistakes moves and muffles meager mackerels
Manufactured mutilated memo mystifies many, milking money
Magazine magistrate Marine Morey measures mackerels
Making meticulous memories, mimicking Magazine Madame
Categories:
mackerels, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Alliteration
Broken Seashells,
canvasses of lobsters
tossed ashore by waves
are an open cemetery
with endless laments...
as green seaweeds
decorate them morbidly
if they were flowers!
I look around this beach
not frequented by a wanderer;
the strong stench of fish
is too unpleasant to sensitive noses,
but it's the perfect dinner
for those hungry gulls that swish
and land on their corpses!
Beer cans and water bottles
not disposed in nearby bins
attract rats with extreme hunger
and finding little, they chomp chasing after
the mackerels wiggling on the scorching sand;
oh, they happily feast on them and hiss...
keeping away the squeaking seagulls!
This abandoned beach once was
as pristine as the bluish water,
nobody littered it and people
walked barefoot seeking their favorite spots,
not getting cuts on fragmented seashells;
then hurricane Sandy came and left it desolate...
no souls returned to their homes,
and it became a ghost town forever...
and the few who stayed carried fright in their guts!
Categories:
mackerels, anger, anxiety, beach, feelings,
Form: Rhyme
Man Eater.
I was filleting a mackerel when I found a finger in its innards
not much left of it looked like a prawn shell with fingernail,
I said nothing dipped the fillets in flour and deep fried them
served with cucumber salad, boiled potatoes and melted
butter, just the way they like it in Sweden.
The finger was spotted again amongst all the stuff to be thrown
into the bin. great commotion, I said nothing, but have not since
been eating mackerels, they apparently feed on fishermen.
Categories:
mackerels, humor,
Form: Blank verse