Some people claim the Lion as their Spirit animal,
because of its bravery.
Some people choose a cheetah,
for its speed.
Others choose a Llama,
because of its habit of spitting.
Politicians choose Ostriches
because they bury their heads in the sand.
I would choose the Blob-Fish.
Patron saint of grumbling.
The living embodiment of the phrase,
‘Cheer up, it may never happen’
because people assume that IT is always a bad thing.
Supposing though, just for a moment, that IT
is a good thing, and being told it may never happen
only re-enforces the negativity.
The Blob-Fish was never once imbued with looks or charisma,
designer fashions, or even a useful role to play in the ocean,
knowing that it will be the punch line of a joke,
happier fish will tell him to cheer up,
when it is just his resting face,
and maybe if it had a better name,
it would feel better about itself.
Message in a bottle; excuse my Squid ink scroll.
To my darling John Dory, my fellow tortured Sole.
You’re in another Plaice, but I just want you to know,
I don’t think you a Pollock; I love our ebb & flow.
Monsieur Mussel, you put the Rainbow in my Trout;
I’m like Wild Salmon when we dive & splash about.
& when I’m feeling Crabby you don’t try to suck me in;
you’re gentle & protective fending off those Crayfish twins.
The world’s our Lobster in my aqua fantasy;
you & I go deep, making under water alchemy.
Playing all of your top Tuna, on your favourite Sea Bass,
I swim, you sing: ‘I see you baby (shakin’ that ass)’.
Alas, I cannot be your Mermaid ‘plenty more fish’ says head;
you’ve a Dover Sole mate; shan’t put my Roe in one seabed.
I can be a Tiger Prawn but you can see that I’m no Snapper.
Okay, I find you dishy & your swim suit’s very dapper.
But be more Monk fish; your Sole mate’s down at Eel.
I’m just a red Herring & I’ve no wish to steal.
Without you, I’ll feel gutted; be like losing a fin.
But you’re caught; could be worse, could be Sardines in a tin.
Susan Evans is widely published; online & in print; appearing in: The High Window, Ink, Sweat & Tears, The Journal, Message in a Bottle, Nutshells and Nuggets, Obsessed With Pipework, and Snakeskin, among numerous others. A Brighton-based Performance poet, Susan was nominated Best Spoken Word Performer in the Saboteur Awards, 2016.
Dogs smile but fish
Without a doubt,
sober are trout.
The gar, smelt, and crappie
thrive yet are not happy.
Glum are the salmon,
and carp tend to harp.
is not without strife.
Cold and wet, stuck in schools,
baited hooks catch the fools.
Sad is the fish who
struggles with issues.
I wonder if
(Previously published in Thema)
Pat Tompkins is an editor in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her poems have appeared in Confingo, The A3 Review, bottle rockets, and other publications.
What is your favourite fish?
said the cat.
Anxious to please, I said,
Catfish are smart!
I caught my mistake
in his whiskery grin,
and the way he sloshed cream
on his jellyfish tart.
Susan Howe‘s stories and flash fictions have been published and placed in competitions many times. A proud but displaced Yorkshirewoman, brevity is in her DNA.
Wear a utility belt.
This avoids scrubbing holes
in your pockets with loose change
and inadvertently washing
phone numbers, first drafts and £10 notes
Never take on anyone else’s fish.
Learn about cars
but also find a reliable garage
and join the RAC.
Buy cheap crap from China.
Own several pairs of trousers
and change them regularly.
Pre-heat the bathroom and
check towels before showering.
Own a Swiss Army Knife
or failing that
a smartphone with a compass app.
Grouchy is a respectable standpoint to work from.
Back up your stuff.
Perfect the appearance of being busy;
never be caught writing poems.
Simon Williams has six published collections. He latest pamphlet, Spotting Capybaras in the Work of Mac Chagall, launched in April and his next full collection, Inti, will be out later this year. Simon was elected The Bard of Exeter in 2013 and founded the large-format magazine, The Broadsheet. He makes a living as a journalist.