Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen Poet Diminished Hexaverse

One-Hour Fishing Awe

One-Hour Fishing Awe 

She was only twelve.
She believed in elves.
And fishing genies,
Which wore bikinis.
Some drank martinis.

Early one fall,
She got a call.
Luck did befall.
Wonder enthralled.

Her granddad
That wore plaid.
Made her glad.

At sea…
Fifty-three

Caught.


© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
January 24, 2010

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Constance La France January 24, 2010 at 12:56 PM It was fun to read... great poem about fishing and grandpa.. I wrote one once about fishing with grandpa... also.. if I could just remember the name of it...oh yes, it is called, Wiggly, Jiggly, Slimmy Worms... and thanks for your comment on my poetry...

Colleen Bono January 24, 2010 at 12:30 PM Spending time with grandpa.How cool.I was just stopping by to say hello,hope your day is good.