| The Poemfish |
| The poemfish is a tricky beast Been tracking it for years Neigh on caught a glimpse of it 'Till one night at the lake Been trying to catch it so's I can Gut it Fry it Eat it with salt Heard if I do so I'll speak pure poetry And write nothing but iambic tetrameter I started out looking at trees Heard once they found a catfish in a tree No one knew how it got there Still alive in a small pool Caught between two limbs I though a poemfish might inhabit the leaves But lhe leaves are too green and poemfish shimmer Too bright for camouflage in trees Poemfish hide from poets - see But I found it Where lines of poems Wrinkled across a deep blue lake Underneath swam the poemfish I sat in the shore Cold In my yellow raincoat and cap Waiting for a nibble To bob my red and white bobber Boibeling its way to the surface The poemfish popped its head out Slapped its tail like a beaver Snap! Lines of poems crinkled Expanded Warbled and crooned The moon wrote them down In his little black book I copied the moon |
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| copywrite 2003 - Anthony Ainsworth |