I Caught A Fish

I Caught A Fish

A couple of months ago, I was sat in a park on the grass near a lake. Along the side of the lake were several men fishing. While nothing much was happening, it was strangely hypnotic to watch them. I remember very clearly thinking that it looked really peaceful and relaxing! But then it struck me that the fish would see it very differently.

What’s actually happening is that fish are being hunted and dragged from their home by a hook in their mouth. It’s fairly brutal when you look at it that way. This is a poem about the horrific reality of fishermen.

I Caught A Fish

I caught a fish with my own bare hands
Then threw him on the scorching sands
His brothers wept, his daughters fled
I served that fish with buttered bread

I caught a fish with a pointed stick
And struck it with a roundhouse kick
He tried to swim, it was no use
I served that fish with lemon juice

I caught a fish with a fishing rod
Then gave his teary wife a nod
For all his flops and flaps and flips
I served that fish with salted chips

I caught a fish with LSD
‘It’s over friend,’ he said to me
As tiny cherubs kissed his face
I served that fish with time and space

I caught this fish for £2.40 at the local chippy

I caught this fish for £2.40 at the local chippy

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