No wish to carp or cock a snook
I won't leave you in the lurch
but oh my cod take a look
what a plaice to perch
as just for the halibut
putting seahorses out to paddock
is enough to give one
a severe bad haddock
so no red herring I don't flounder around
take a peeled eel flake of baked hake
plus pinch of pickled pilchard
and an ichthyic sandwich make
but if my words are vitriolic
you may grunt and kiss my bass
it's all a load of pollock(s)
My heart bled with every step I took,
That I’s tormented for my love with hake.
The clinic's call was a pit on my way,
A bitter form of the loss I needed to pay.
Some innocents were crucified for what unknown,
Echoed my own pain
—as I faced the unknown.
Tears fell like autumn rain, as I searched for a reprieve;
But like a ghost, my hopes vanished
—leaving only grief to retrieve.
My conscience screamed,
"Why must I suffer so?"
Yet still, I held on to love,
my only solace,
my heart's last glow.
Steady Eddie was always ready
For meatballs and spaghetti.
Dan the man was a big fan
Of eating eggs with boiled ham.
Bob the slob was on the job
To chew away corn on the cob.
Mitt the git could hardly sit
When served a bowl of shrimp & grits.
Jake the snake, numb as a hake
Just adored potato and steak.
Tricky Ricky who looked all sickly
Finds it all to be quite icky!
Last night, I rode upon a sea of dreams,
a whale and grandpa rode them with me.
I felt water hit me as I sailed in my bed;
it was only the whale nodding his head.
He splashed all around those waters of blue,
while rays of moonlight cast silvery hues.
The fish, how they danced in and out of the waves;
a Salmon leapt by me, a Tuna, a Blue Hake.
My bed, it sailed better than any old boat;
when the dream began I was trapped in a moat!
As it turned into ocean with waters blue-green,
I realized the whale, it was a Baleen.
The whale, he told me that he was endangered,
why should he confide in me, a stranger?
My Grandpa told me the very next day,
when I grew up, the whales I could help save.
Schools of fish in this lake seem to hold a fest
Fishes of all sorts swim in an august zest
Shining in spotted, striped, silver, and gold vest
Schools of fish in this lake seem to hold a fest
Carp, cod, hake, jack, shad, and sole in blest best jest
Flexing and gliding through the calm water crest
Schools of fish in this lake seem to hold a fest
Fishes of all sorts swim in an august zest
21 November 2021
Getting nostalgic around days by the lake.
We moaned while touching the pond's water.
The lake's base shimmered with life and hake.
As love, spirit and peace aren't a clumsy bailor.
Nothing moves as I stroll out onto the lake.
See the moon's full splendor in insight.
A great time is in the offing for my sake
The lake cottage has its own quality sleight.
From the morning's veils to the cricket's sing;
Midnight shimmer, noon a purple hue.
And the night is full of a linnet's wing.
I hear lake water lapping the shore and grew.
Summer by the lake is my most loved place.
We can sense the water underneath our feet.
What a series of subtle signals you pace.
As a deer might be viewed as an omen meet.
You will be unquiet on the dance floor.
Shadow is an awfully tasteful player.
The morning dew shines with rich spoor.
Awareness of one's own being the conveyor.
A speck of sand got lodged in your hair.
Bronze in its design phase July desire.
Step near, my love, and sustain the snare.
I recall your gaze emitted a blaze of fire.
Written: September 10, 2021
I ponder on this till I ache:
a haddock who says he's a hake -
I guess it's his right
to think that despite
so many believe he's a fake...
Written 25th April for Constance's ache contest
It’s too early to prite woetry.
Let me hay lere in my bed.
I hartied pardy. Woe is me.
Oh, my hounding pead!
My joughts are thumbled. My oh my.
It’s hust so jard to think.
I heel so forrid; why oh why?
Did someone dike my sprink?
Good grief, it’s tuch moo early to awake.
It’s ten a.m for seaven’s hake!
January 23, 2017
Ha ha a hullabaloo shouting hurrah is neither a hooked hippo nor a hollering hake. So dive into the deepest depths of an ocean globe and always wear a pretty apron or a pair of skin tight leather trousers when doing this brave and dangerous act. For it is a feat not a foot nor a fighting feet. Podiatrist arrives with a blanket for a podiatrist without a blanket can get very cold instead and be more comfortable in and on calves rather than see and view the mischievous and painful crusts on foot teeth. It is the voluminous veins. Wow. It is the talismanic treatment taking trauma. And a half kettle of ketchup! Watching. Ha ha a little button balancing on a ledge give hundred feet up. Xxxxx polypeptides Z z Z
i love to eat, it is my dream to eat and eat,
and while the tastes, to heaven take, I fry
up half a pound of hake, but that is nothing
my lips to take, when in the fiery kitchen bake,
a cake of such proportions make, washed down
with Guinness, then medium steak.
then there’s sweets and candies too, and warm
buttered breads with jams a few and while we’re here,
asparagus spear, with roast potatoes, crispy sear…
yet best of all, in banquet hall, are cheeses firm
and soft; stilton, yarg but that’s not all, there’s
wensleydale matured and tall
so where’s this going I heard you ask, buttered scone,
alimentary task?...well all is simple, plain to see, just
come to mine, share some tea, chocs and toffees,
biscuits rare, we’ll eat the lot, like we don’t care
and as the setting sun rolls down, we’ll scoff at diets with
hearty frown, for ours is not to trim or skip, but simply
moisten cherry lip
From my vision came your dreams
Burning out like the boiling colourless steam
With a sweet flavour of the white vanilla cream
Playing on in auto, like the unstoppable theatre film
dripping out of my orbits, like beam
Behold the great beautiful trim
That which cleanse away all the grim
Your aim to be able to kill the squirrel hake
It still stays in my vision in hale
Gushing with such gusto, never pale
An unlucky young man from Michigan
Had a very unusual condichigan
He got sick from a hake
That he found in the lake
And now he can never eat fishigan
I have got ten pens from nature ‘den and now
I’m imprisoned but seasoned with how reason
Clustered but buttered with what I mutter
Daunting but flaunting of my pen bends and bow
I have got more love from the noble core where
I explored and implored the grains that wisdom stored
kissed and missed the pains that wisdom dished
unfurled and hurled the brain that are austere
I have got a strong throng from a nifty pond who
makes and bake the cake that crowns my slake,
brush and crush the stones that block my view
Wait and watch as I stun the lake like a hake