Category Archives: Fish

Goldfish in a Bowl

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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.

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The Speckled Trout



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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.

sorry

G:)

A Fish Tanka (continuing the fishy theme).

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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!

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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!
There.
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)

Koi-Carp

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

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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.