Quotes about fish, page 3
Animal Rights (A Restaurant Sold Fried Fish Cruelly)
In Taiwan, there was a restaurant,
sale promotion gimmick of which was very abhorrent.
It was a smoky fried fish,
a spicy and good -smelled dish.
There was a glass fish pond,
swimming in it were fish...big, fat and long.
Beside it was a fish net,
by which the chef would catch.
Then he quickly removed the scale with a knife,
and on the body he cut and sprinkled with salt and spice,
while the fish was still alive.
Then with wet towel he grabbed the fish head,
while the gill huffing and puffing to catch the breath.
Into the sizzling hot oil, the body was slowly dipped,
which in painful agony, flapped and flipped.
The fish struggled in a desperate attempt,
causing the hot oil to splash,
onto the chef's hand,
making him cry in pain as if the world was going to end.
Before the fried fish was going to be served,
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poem by U Win Kyi
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Hands And Tongue
Hands on which all babies crawl
and later learn to catch a ball
don’t always love to curl
around the parts of me that quiver
when you’ve touched them as love almsgiver.
Are yours like those hands, girl?
Tongues that dare to make a speech,
and sometimes even taste a peach,
don’t always care to kiss
the lips that, though they are unsealed,
belong to men who aren’t well-heeled.
Are yours like those tongues, miss?
Inspired by Natalie Angier, writing about fish in the Science Times of the NYT, February 19,2008 (“What People Owe Fish: A Lot”) :
Being a resolute hydrophobe who has no more desire to go for a swim than might a kitten in a bag or Luca Brasi in “The Godfather, ” I admit I never thought of myself as a large, scaleless fish out of water. Yet after reading Neil Shubin’s brisk new book, “Your Inner Fish, ” and speaking with other researchers who use fish to delve into the history of vertebrates in general and ourselves in particular, I realize that many traits we take pride in, the body parts and behaviors we exalt as hallmarks of our humanity, were really invented by fish. You like having a big, centralized brain encased in a protective bony skull, with all the sensory organs conveniently attached? Fish invented the head. You like having pairs of those sense organs, two eyes for binocular vision, two ears to localize sounds and twinned nostrils so you can follow your nose to freshly baked bread or the nape of a lover’s irresistibly immunocompatible neck? Fish were the first to wear their senses in sets. They premiered the pairing of appendages, too, through fins on either side of the body that would someday flesh out into biceps, triceps, rotating wrists and opposable thumbs. Or how about that animated mouth of yours, with its hinged and muscular jaws; its enameled, innervated teeth; and a tongue that dares to taste a peach or, if it must, get up and give a speech? Fish founded the whole modern buss we now ride.
2/19/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Archer Fish
Archer fish can calculate
trajectories when spitting at
their prey. They are as great
at killing those whom they combat
with minute missiles made of spittle
as humans when they go ballistic.
which proves that we should not belittle
such little creatures as simplistic,
but praise the Lord who taught them trig
and calculus far better than
we know when we attempt to zig
and zag away from missile man.
God programmed them to spit while we
are programmed for much higher skills,
like science, art and poetry,
regarding anyone who kills
a fellow man as very wicked,
unless he's wearing uniform,
in which case he has won a ticket
to act as archer fish perform.
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poem by Gershon Hepner
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The Flying-Fish Sailor
'The Western Ocean rolls and roars
From Sandy Hook to Europe's shores,
From Fastnet Light to Portland, Maine,
And Newport News and back again,
With Boston, Salem, Montreal,
And plenty o' ports both large and small,
And them that like may keep 'em all,
Not me,' says the flying-fish sailor.
The Western Ocean roars and rolls
With all its deeps and all its shoals
And many a thundering wintry gale,
And many a storm of rain and hail,
And let who likes have sleet and snow,
And driving fog and drifting floe,
For South away and Eastward Ho!
Is the road for the flying-fish sailor.
In Blackwall Dock she is moored,
Her hatches on and her stores aboard,
[...] Read more
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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My Fish Family
Theres a man on the front porch
Says hes related to me
But lately Im finding
It hard to believe
This house is filled with
Spooks and ghosts
They say theyre family
But they are strangers at most
Theyre strange fishes of the deep blue sea
And absolutely nothing like me
They swim around their little treasure chests
When it comes to loving me they give it their fish best
But its hard with all those scales
Of good and bad you see (2nd time: of morality)
Theyre my fish family
My fish family
They may try and hook me
Or put me in a tank
They may try and book me
For robbing a fish bank
[...] Read more
song performed by Jewel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tiny Rhyme
Fish oh! fish
swish a miss
wish on hiss
shush to hush
Push push
oh! fish
flush a blush
fresh 'n' mush
Fish oh! fish
slush the gush
slash in gash
splash the plush
Fish oh! fish
pose to posh
rush a mash
fish oh! gosh!
poem by Mubeen Sadhika
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Gallant maiden...Lets fish...
Lonely stream, where do you depart with your lover?
Lovely maiden, why do you walk on this lonely stream?
Lovely song brace with echoes...
I fish this stream my lovely maiden...
I can't fish...
Come, lets fish...
If you were this fish...
I will take care of you...
Come, i can't eat this fish...
We caught...
Where my gallant maiden, Where do you live?
You make me question this stream...
You make me guard our departed stream...
Come lets fish...
Lets, start over...
[...] Read more
poem by Kong Vang
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 24
A weak fisherman caught a strong fish in his net and not being able to retain it the fish overcame him and pulled the net from his hand.
A boy went to bring water from the torrent.
The torrent came and took the boy away.
The net brought every time a fish.
This time the fish went and carried off the net.
The other fishermen were sorry and blamed him for not being able to retain such a fish which had fallen into his net. He replied: ‘O brothers, what can be done? My day was not lucky but the fish had yet one remaining. ‘Moral: A fisherman cannot catch a fish in the Tigris without a day of luck and a fish cannot die on dry ground without the decree of fate.
We Fish
We fish, we fish, we merrily swim,
We care not for friend nor for foe.
Our fins are stout,
Our tails are out,
As through the seas we go.
Fish, Fish, we are fish with red gills;
Naught disturbs us, our blood is at zero:
We are buoyant because of our bags,
Being many, each fish is a hero.
We care not what is it, this life
That we follow, this phantom unknown;
To swim, it's exceedingly pleasant,--
So swim away, making a foam.
This strange looking thing by our side,
Not for safety, around it we flee:--
Its shadow's so shady, that's all,--
We only swim under its lee.
And as for the eels there above,
And as for the fowls of the air,
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poem by Herman Melville
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Fish the Fish
fish makes every fish catch, the tail that
smell like fish as the angler bait its fishing
rod bit each heart beat, the triumphant
heart break its brake the nylon cord that
hold the hook that synchronize the timing
swings of each hand lifting as it goes
catching the net as it swing in the thread
that fishes the fish
strength hold on, tie so quick on, leave no
loose every cost is to repulse, time is
sweeten in the fish in the table all are
refresh, every fisherman switch the light in
the kitchen the kittle, the cool plate and the
fire is burning on
sweet smells like a baby, in every nose so
shiny, in every dinning table everybody is
happy ready to take like party, now all
hands should hold, and bring every magical
[...] Read more
poem by Antonio Liao
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