Done Fishing
If they had a wishbone, perhaps I’d eat fish,
first stripping the flesh and then making a wish.
Of course I’m no specialist in the deboning.
This is a talent I haven’t been honing.
For I must say fish are a complete enigma,
since I have acquired a congenital stigma.
My mom never broiled them or poached them or fried them
and so in fact I’ve never ordered or tried them,
and every proposal to taste them I’ve scorned,
for I don’t appreciate how they’re adorned
with alert eyeballs and scales on their skin.
I simply don’t find the shape that they’re in
especially appetizing, so the stigma
I’ve attached to them should be no enigma.
If it resides in lake, ocean or sea,
you will not find it residing in me!
Prompt words are stigma, specialist, alert, proposal and wishbone.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Truly, no fish for me.
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Is this one a true hate fish poem or just your usual poetic license~? The Northern Pike has a bone somewhat like a “wishbone” (they call it the Y bone) When you have a 30 pound northern pike taken from the very cold waters of Northern Canada they fillet them up from the tail to near the head removing all bones and skin, except the only one bone left which is that one up near the head that you must remove separately. (I call it the wish bone because it is forked shaped) Otherwise no bones to worry about and no “fishy” smell due to the very cold waters you catch them in…(also they are not slimy, my favorite after fried catfish). I need to write a (positive) Texas nibbling fish poem for you to appreciate them…
Those Native “Indians guides” up north do it differently from this URL (and you must use them by law). They can do a large fish in seconds with no waste and then they quick freeze boneless fish in one kilo packages for your float plane trip home~!
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This one is truth, not fiction. I eat no fish, no seafood.
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Oh, we” coonass’ ” actually have web feet and eat mud bugs and many other creepy crawly things that come out of the water. I guess Etoiffee, frecassee, and gumbo may be off the menu if you ever visit~! But I still can make a mean prime rib, unless you are a vegan too~! (You uplanders~!) I feel a poem coming on~!
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I got over my phish-phobia in China. But maybe this is “just” poetry? 😉
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Nope, it’s the truth.
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My daughter blocked raw oysters from age 2. Great poem.
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Ew.. raw oysters. I ate one on a bet once, but that is it.
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Well crafted as ever
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Thanks, Derrick.
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