Treasure Island

Max Gatrell

(Harrow, U.K.)

The Fisher Queen


I confess my life's a mess,
Because I'm on your hook,
The best alas I can expect,
Is the slightest look.

Like an inert jumping bean,
Im unfit for the purpose,
I know you're the Fisher Queen,
And I am only surplace.

The Fisher Queen that's right my dear,
Atlast I've sussed your game,
All this time you've been so mean,
Now I can do the same.

A fleeting brush should be enough,
Is that what you believe?
Pity with your finger tips,
A touch too much deceives.

Your beauty used to nourish me,
I viewed you as divine,
But it was not my destiny,
To dangle on your line.

Submitted: Saturday, November 09, 2013
Edited: Saturday, November 09, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Fisher Queen by Max Gatrell )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. By all means stay, Kindred velarde
  2. The Only Thing Received, Kindred velarde
  3. Says he was in Falluja, Gouda Moon
  4. Labyrinth of Ghost, Aftab Alam
  5. Waiting for unknown, sultan mahmud
  6. SYNC 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
  7. First meeting, Kristopher DeLander
  8. Hope, Kristopher DeLander
  9. Silence Is A Beauty To Endure, Monk E. Biz
  10. Home, Kindred velarde

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]