I'm not writing a poem now,
I'm drinking wine in a dark room.
As always
I am tempted to drag the moon
into this moment or whatever,
make a fuss about something
just like those
who,
not even seeing the moon or its light,
just sit in the dark
spinning webs for dead spiders.
Why drag anything into a dark wine glass,
as if you just caught it
from the corner of a closed eye?
Does imagination care to be hooked
like a fish out of that overfished pond
you call reverie or some other
bull name?
I'm not writing anything
about the past or future,
not even this present,
this no-time has already moved
into another dark room
and has drunk a bottle of wine
I had been saving for later.
Dead poetry comes alive
before you think about it,
and by then it's probably too late.
Categories:
overfished, poetry,
Form: Free verse
A Brisling (King Oscar sardines)
I opened a tin of sardines in olive oil for supper
Headless and nicely packed, except for one
that had a head and was alive.
I put the live one in a glass jar; the others looked
so dead I could not eat them, put the tin back
into the fridge
My little King Oscar sardine grew and was too
big for a jar, I had fed it bread crumbs,
real home
baked with butter.
Suddenly, there were many cats in the yard the adventurous cats tried to find an open window
I took my sardine to an empty lake.
the lake had once been full of bluegill, but overfished
to extinction, I sat my sardine free to feed on rotten
vegetations
I don't know how fish procreate, but soon there were
too many of them, a school of silvery beings
swimming around except for one going the opposite way
Bonanza!
Grilled sardines and red wine, people rejoiced, thought
this was going to last forever until there were non
except for my sardine, now so big it scared cats
when it saw me, it was so happy, jumped out of the water
caught by a passing eagle
Empty lake, a dead eye in the wilderness, tells no story
Categories:
overfished, america, animal, arabic, beach,
Form: Blank verse
Vast, powerful motion of all time,
How many do you facilitate sublime?
To discover, protect and to ably fight,
By wood, to keep our territory right.
To race, enjoying the sea air of such waft,
And to fish for delicious bites from our nets cast;
Enjoying the freedoms of the Common Fisheries Policy,
Having livelihoods protected through areas of advocacy.
One of carbon and two of oxygen, water,
And of course with salt which does the liquid alter;
Also with sodium, magnesium, calcium and sulphate too,
Plus the ions potassium and chlorine which do.
You can't really drink it apart from a sip,
But seawater and its fish can be boiled for your lip;
Cod’s coming back as no more overfished,
So pollock does not anymore need to be wished.
Our first travels were made on the ocean wave,
Its captains gave respect and sensibly did behave;
We journeyed from England to America to make,
A life for ourselves which nobody was to brake.
It moves with power, and sometimes takes a life,
And hides oil that's dug through much toil and strife;
The global community needs to channel its energy,
For renewable sources to be designed with synergy.
Categories:
overfished, journey, nature, ocean, science,
Form: Heroic Couplet