Fishing
Hooks and lures and fishing line, an eight foot throwing net
The sea is calm, the weather fine, there’s challenge to be met
Bait fish schools along the rocks dart frantically away
mesh descends on heavy weights to trap unwary prey
A baited hook is set and cast, the line is brought in taut
time like water trickles past, the battle still un-fought
The sun beats down on golden sand, the waves lap at the shore
the rod is passed from hand to hand as shoulders become sore
Nibblers tease and rip the bait but miss the gleaming hook
larger fish show here and there but only seem to look
Then all at once the sea explodes with one almighty flash
a heavy pull and line reels off, a headlong racing dash
Leaping twisting running deep the line pays off the reel
excitement builds and tension mounts, the fish’s fate is sealed
Pumping rod and straining arms bring colour to the top
but once again the fish will run, it seems to never stop
An hour or more of reeling in, the fish begins to tire
arms and neck and shoulders burn and feel like they’re on fire
The battle nearly over now the fish comes closer in
at last you have it in your hand, how sweet it is to win
Looking down at shining scales of silver black and blue
the streamlined body glistens with the light of every hue
with mouth agape and staring eyes the fish begins to gasp
the hook is pulled, the fish reacts, falling from your grasp
Back into the sea once more, it slowly swims away
maybe to get hooked again and fight another day
A flick of tail and flash of scale it vanishes from sight
You long to hook it up again and recommence the fight.
From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"
Copyright © Marc Glasby | Year Posted 2018
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