The King of Fishermen

The heaviest thing you can carry is a grudge.

Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

My eyes, have spied the King of fishermen.
On his throne, in his simple brown fishing boat.
Cast his net out in order to catch trout.
In as great a number as he well can.

"He is the best fishermen here" they say.
When he comes into the busy bay.
Carrying many buckets filled with fresh fish.
He brings home so his wife can make a dish.

I have seen him set out during high tide.
To return at low tide smelling of Pike.
That he caught using the long mighty spear.
He sometimes used to keep sharks clear.

There were times he caught Cod in the cold.
And gathered Salmon by the light of moon.
Just to make sure his household had food.
Enough to last till the end of monsoon.

The King of fishermen taught them all how to fish.
Even though learning to fish, was his only wish.

© 2020 The Poets Peace

do angels fall?

I fell in love with this poem from the moment i set sight on it. Simply amazing.

A Writer's Soul

What happens to the Angels who aren’t so pure?
When their wings become tainted,
Dipped in the darkness of sin,
Or, something a bit more intoxicating,
That really pulls them in,
Making them question everything they once believed,
Just like that first hesitation to follow the crowd,

Angels aren’t met to float forever,
Or are they?
But, even they must have their limits,
Everyone has limits,
Even the almighty,
Couldn’t handle the disappointment of his first two creations,
Casting them out in an attempt to teach them,
Only for them to adapt and learn that every story had two sides…

He must be lonely,
That angel who fell,
No one to confide in and no one to lean against,
But that’s the price of pride,
So while you cling to yours,
Remember it’s what keeps you questioning,
Maybe even sane,
But who’s to say you’ll retain it when you fall?

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