If you teach men to fish
You’ll feed them forever,
But I find that sometimes
It’s a fruitless endeavor.
I taught fishing in Sweden
But to my dismay
They were still eating candy
The very next day.
Tag Archives: Fishing
[Insert Fish Pun Here]
Give a man a fish,
You’ll feed him for a day
Unless that man’s a vegan
In which case his death’s okay.
But teach a man to fish
(Be him Vegan or otherwise)
And if he gets married he’ll be grateful
And he’ll think you very wise.
Filed under Poems
Reel Me In Baby
When I’m with you
The sun shines brighter,
The water’s warmer,
My body’s lighter.
When I’m with you
I am flavorful, raw.
I just wish you’d get rid of
This hook in my jaw!
Filed under Poems
Fishing Scams
I got a suspicious email
From Prince Magbar of Venezuasia
Saying “want to go fishing this Sunday?”
You can’t let emails like that faze ya.
I got another message
A week after the first.
“Dear friend, I must give you money
“Or I fear my spleen will burst.”
I finally blocked his messages
To no longer get that spam,
But only moments later
I questioned who I am
To deny a man with money-spleen
From going fishing with his dear friend.
I replied, guiltily, and we met by the lake
Where he tore out and ate my lungs. The end!
Filed under Poems
Something’s Fishy
If I were a fish
Swimming in the sea
I would look around with wonder
At all the life surrounding me.
I would stare at hermit crabs,
Their houses on their backs.
I would delight in flounders
In the deepest ocean black.
I would gaze upon the lobsters
With their rubber banded claws,
And upon the mermaids
In their little seashell bras.
I’d make fish-eyes at swimmers
And I’d maybe speak in whale.
I’d kill eater rats in the basement
‘Til I could level-up my tail.
And then when I was happy,
Experienced and strong
I’d bite down on a hook
And string a fisherman along.
But after my escape
I would not foresee
That the fisherman was angry
And had some TNT.
And so my final moments
Would be flashy and gory.
As I toss the dynamite from my boat
I tell myself this story.
The Fisherman’s Dilemna
They say I’m a workaholic
‘Cause I spend twelve hours a day
Away from Mabbs (my wife) and kids.
It’s the commercial fishing way.
Truth is, work gives me joy
That I just don’t get from Mabbs.
At work I catch the lobsters,
But with her I catch the crabs.
Filed under Poems
