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Fish Fabel Facts

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Here’s another summer’s ending.

Almost old the new beginnings.

Wander lost you true believers

Casting cost of what you leave here

Fate may catch a chosen few

But why not me and was not you.

Been a fish? Well, w’ve been a factor.

My super one wish still strains this reactor.

Like that package you sent

The crafter’s wish all well lent and yet so sufficient in laughter.

Married not by union but damned separation

Should abandon all hopes, embrace desperation.

Sun light makes it’s trace on the stone that is placed

At dawn, never changing, ever after.

This starts such a so long, long, long time ago.

And ends if I don’t think of you

Go finish the part starts still half mine to know

Yet slow, you’re afraid to go through

Cold comes now soon though to claim all this freedom

Claiming the weak and fueling religion

Led not just by then but by now time allows

Seems the farmer is god to his cows.

Sadness gives my self-less it's least true companion

Falling mountain will rise to fresh and new canyon

That sound you hear now but obstructed somehow.

Like pictures that try to say motion

Here wait….

A drone all alone is the dirge that is cheer?

A charm far away or the urge we see near?

Surge upon surge and my fin you see here….

Please purge this one word fore the sea won’t see clear

I gather the lines and the curse of my rent

From waves that have come and the tide that is spent

On the flat of the back of some fish I have wrapped

Hope you’re not too much troubled by that.

The miles poured between us stretch like days lost

This dry land bored beyond any reasonable cost

I while by the levee but why should you care

The river is going and you’re already there...

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I agree that there is emotion running over the edges in this piece.

When I was in junior high school, included in our studies of poetry was the practice of recording meter in rhyme. I revisited that exercise, on this poem:









It was Robert Frost who made the observation concerning deterioration of discipline among modern poetry forms, "Free verse is like playing tennis without a net." This one is like playing it with water balloons.

Cadence aside, please determine your rhyme scheme, tighten this up and help your reader to find your goal. There are some darn good lines and thoughts in here, Mr. Hill, but they are like the voice of a pedestrian shouting greetings to another across a busy 6 lane highway; the possibility of misunderstanding is proportional to the level of noise on the street.

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:shades: Thanks for the reads and takes and you’re right, Ron. When I look this thing over, I was hasty. The tenth line falls apart, then things go meandering and get damned superfluous from all the wrangling, my darned words!.

There is too much noise. Please reserve me the right to make quiet (and write it all over again) :soapbox:

...on a bank somewhere waits a fisher.

Is it Frank, the young benefactor? He

sees fins that swim late and is given to rate

all the other less known well bad actors....

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The best writer is the one that realizes writing isn't that important.

They'll also realize that without words they'd be a blabbering babbler much like a gecko trying to sell auto insurance to rambling Rodney!

Keep writing, my friend.

BTW, I have a leopard gecko that's almost three years young. I haven't sexed it yet so I'll call it Shim.

The darn lizard is only six inches from head-to-tail but last night it ate twenty-four crickets!

I bought 50 (they only cost ten cents a piece) and had to stop feeding the hungry reptile.

Most likely it'd eat a thousand crickets if I was stupid enough to give it that many! lol

Heck, my boa constrictor has gone almost three months without eating!

I have a live chicken (Rhode Island Red) in a cage waiting for Stanley (the boa) to decide it's hungry enough to finally eat it! (feathers and all)

Many will say . . .

"How can you be so cruel to feed a chicken to a snake?"

. . . whilst they're looking through a bucket-of-chicken from KFC!

But hey, KFC's original recipe got my granny slightly worried. keyword (slightly)

To this day, no one can fry chicken like my granny. Her secret? Kill, dress and soak the chicken in fresh cow's milk the night before you want to fry it.

You don't need teeth to eat it because it literally'll melt in your mouth.

Excuse me for getting side-tracked again.


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