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fat man

has an apple

picks a worm

from its flesh

and sticks it

on a hook


hangs the rod

over the river

casts the line

into the water

tugs a little



the bait

glints in sunlight


in the water

silver sliver

whispers “feed”


all the little fishes



round the worm

in the swirling



one by one

they bite

and the hook

pierces their mouths

and they thrash

in surprise


they pay

the price

for being

little fishes

in a fat man’s



and their last thoughts

before they are pulled

from the water are

“that tasted just like the last time

and the time before

only slicker..”


◄ The Devil Don't Own Me

Safety Off ►


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Karen Ankers

Fri 29th Sep 2017 10:05

Love this. Brilliant. Beautifully constructed.

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Martin Elder

Thu 28th Sep 2017 22:20

This is up to the usual standard that can be expected from you Ian, fantastic. Will this be a contender for live performance? I must admit that I am always put off Apple products by the kind of underlying exclusivity that seems to accompany them as well as all the hype
Nice one

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Wed 27th Sep 2017 22:04

Highly original Ian. The idea like lunacy itself is appealing and is contrary in an ironic way to all that commends the iPhone itself - anti matter almost. Thousands of fishes can't be wrong though can they?

Nice poem. Ray


Wed 27th Sep 2017 12:41

Hi Ian, after reading your poem this morning, this came to mind. I thought you might like it.

Fat Mans Hook

I’m an old fat carp
That should know better
But them lures
Just keep getting better
All shiny and knew
With a big sharp hook
I’m caught again
On that fat mans hook.
He reels me in,every time
The big fat man
With his spiel and lines..

<Deleted User> (13762)

Wed 27th Sep 2017 08:14

nice one Ian. I haven't kept up with the finer technological advances of the latest iPhone but it seems to me whatever they are doesn't justify the enormous price tag to upgrade. I would be tempted to add 'slightly' before 'slicker' if only to piss the makers off!

I like the way you have 'tackled' the subject matter (excuse the pun). It reminds me also of a line from a Patrick Fitzgerald song: 'me and you are just little fishes swimming in a rising tide - small fry'.


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