what a piece of meat is man! how tender in season! how infinite in edibilities! in fork and moving, how express and delectable! in action how like an angelfish! in apprehension, how like a cod!
Sonnet One Sharkteen
Let me not to the carnage of this night
Admit impediments. Sharks are not sharks
Who falter when they fat turistas find,
Or from two lovers, modestly remove:
O no! They are ever-eating beasts
That dine on toddlers, nature’s bacon;
On thick-skinned fishermen they feast
With gusto, each limb torn and taken.
Sharks are not fools, though grinning slicing teeth
Curve upwards in a sickled vicious smile:
Sharks folly not with plotting out for weeks,
But quickly bite, with strength if not with guile.
If this be error and upon me tacked,
I never ate, nor no shark e’er attacked.
by mr phipps
Is this a dogfish which I see before me,
The tail toward my mouth? Come, let me eat thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fast swimmer, stating
To feeding as to sight? or art thou but
A dogfish of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the hunger-oppress'd brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palatable
As this which now I desire.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an ichythope I was to taste.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other fishes,
Or else worth all the rest; I yet taste thee,
And on thy teeth and tongue gouts of blood,
which was not so before sentinel, the ray,
Whose blubs's his watch, thus with his slow pace.
With Tuna's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a jellyfish. Thou sure and silt-soak'd sea,
Feel not my strides, which way they swin,
for fear Thy very ocean speaks of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it.
Whiles I threat, fish live:
Worms to the heat of deeds too cold gills gives.
I go, and it is done; the smell invites me.
Hear it not, Dogfish; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
Two dolphins, both alike deliciously,
In fair Atlantic, where I hide unseen,
An ancient beast, evolved to surreptitiously
Spill fishy blood, make pointy teeth unclean.
To which, this fatal mouth and curving fin?
This pair of star-cross'd mammals, which one's life
Shall my serrated cavern pierce within
And with its death assuage my hung'ring strife?
Their oblivious passage through my death-marked lair,
And the continued motion of their yummy flesh,
Which, had they knowledge, quickly they'd repair
To safer waters - now shall I devour, fresh.
And so if you, in cage and SCUBA, lend an eye
You'll see me feast -- then by my teeth shall die.