Category Archives: Fish

Goldfish in a Bowl


Me: I called my fish Jeckyl and Hyde. They are both the same

You: Then, how can you tell which one is which?

Me: There is only one.

You: Ah! That explains the wire mesh on the top of the bowl.

Me: Exactly.


The Speckled Trout


I almost wrote about

the Speckled Trout

but, I didn’t.

thinking about it

i feel a little mean

i mean, i could have

written about the Speckled Trout

but didn’t

(this was when I first thought about doing so

six weeks ago)

and now I don’t know what I was going to say

sonetimes things happen that way.



A Fish Tanka (continuing the fishy theme).


A Fish Tanka

Little Shubumpkins;
Always swimming, back… and forth,
Seeking affection;
Do you know which way is North?
Or do you lack direction?

A Fishmonger’s Tail!


The Whiting is upon the wall
Which doesn’t sound that fishy at all
The Carp is a coy one
The Ray has a toy gun
And Cod is in the Narwhal

Turn up the Bass
(It’s all about that Bass)
Especially if you are hard of…
Dare I say it…?
I must…
…if you are…
… hard of Herring!
It is done.
No misHake about it
You didn’t think for a Minnow
That I wouldn’t…
Did you?
Three Mermaids all in a Roe,
Not scattered all about the Plaice!

To His Coy Carp (with apologies to Andrew Mackerel)


If I haddock but rhyme enough, parsley, thyme
This poetic parody would be no crime.
If you could share my world or I inhabit thine,
Thy Koi Carp lifestyle, would be mine.
Thou in the Indian Ganges’ tide
Should bubbles blow; I by thy side
In Humber would exhale. I would
Feed you tench years long your fishy food,
And you should, if you please, stay unholy,
Till the conversion of the coley.
My mackerel love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more roe;
An hundred years should go to plaice
Both eyes upon thy offset face;
Two hundred to adore each fin,
But many thousand till I begin;
An age at least to every scale,
And the longest age should you turn whale.
For, Fishy, you deservèd skate,
Nor would I cook at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time’s minnowèd chariot herring near;
But, I have other fish to fry
Deserts of bass eternally.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy waters’ realm, shall sound
My angling song: no worms shall try
To hook your preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turbot dust,
And into ashes, eel my lust:
Though hake is fine and whitebait, dace,
But none, I think, do these embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful glare
Sits on thy skin like sauce tartare,
And while, pike, whiting, sole, transpire
For evermore in deep-fat fryer,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And avoid the hungry birdseye of prey,
Rather at once our timely matter
Than languish in a slow-cooked batter.
Let us rollmop our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one fish ball,
And take our pleasures with rough fault
Without Cod’s vinegar and salt:
Thus, though you can but move your lips
Think this, my love, we’ve had our chips.

A Fishy Tail


She was dressed to krill
Fancied having a whale of a time
Spent out a good few squid on an outfit
But the plaice was a cod-forsaken dive
The music was too loud and it gave her a haddock
Then the crime squid raided the premises
And she had to cool off in a poisson cell
But, she was released on bait, and a nice pollack man gave her a lift home in his squid carp.