Bean-Faced Bimmy the Fish by Polina F.

There was an ocean, silver-foamed and calm;

She reared a seaweed on her steady palm.

But once was brought a fancy little dish.

It was a bean-faced hatchling of a fish…


One thing that bothered infant was not right.

He thought about it all over night.

“How did I end up in the world of strife?

Where is my mom who gifted me the life?

Who’s going to carry and caress

About me in times of angst and stress?”


“I’ll find my mother, at whatever cost.

The caring one. I dream of it the most.”


“The Seaweed,” thought he, “that’s my place of birth.”

He headed through the thicket forth and forth

And, pretty much amidst the wavy wood,

The bean-faced fish got stuck. So all he could

Was staring at the gloomy sky

And murmuring the last goodbye.


“I’ll find my mother, at whatever cost.

The cautious one. I dream of it the most.”


What are these grapes on shady cavern’s slope?

They might be beans – his only vivid hope.

So fast he drew himself at the very edge,

That woke the Octo-Mother’s holy rage.

All arms of her were ready to destroy.

No time for being sorry, poor boy.


In haste and fright, he noticed after all

Conveniently narrow cavate hole.

He snuck in it and took a fishy breath:

She had no longer interest in his death.


“I’ll find my mother, at whatever cost.

The fearless one. I dream of it the most.”


Once freed, he wondered aimlessly awhile.

How firm he was, not giving up his trial.

He let his eyes rove over every inch,

Rewarded with a wooden coggle’s bilge.

The little Bimmy thought it would be nice

To ask a human being for advice.

So, up he swam to face his fatal glance.

Old Net embraced him; Bimmy had no chance.


Yet that was it: the breathless fish is caught;

The fisherman is reeling on his rod.

But wait? What’s this? Mysterious attack:

The quiet sky is turning blueish-black!

The surges’ breaking in the boat’s board

Has turned it over – Fischer Fritz ist tot.


Oh, hallelujah! A refreshing dive

Into the native lap. He is alive!

Although the fins and face a little bruised.

“It’s time I was at home, my cosy roost.”

Thus, Bimmy swims with twinkling tears in gleam

As salty as the Ocean tending him.