The water churns under the angler's gaze,
Mirroring the sky in a soft, gentle haze.
Beneath the surface lies a world unseen,
Where fish roam freely in currents serene.
The line tightens, the thrill takes flight,
A struggle commences, a dance of might.
The angler wrestles with the fish through the night.
Colors burst forth in a rainbow's delight,
As scales glisten in the moon's soft light.
A flash of crimson, a splash of gold,
The fish's strength, a sight to behold.
It fights with resolve, this creature of the sea,
The angler reels, his grip steady as can be.
He knows the rhythm, the ebb and flow,
With practiced hands, he guides the show.
Finally, the fish breaks the surface's hold,
A moment captured, a tale to be told.
In hues that shimmer like a sunset's gem,
A testament to nature's untamed emblem.
Categories:
angler, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form: Rhyme
LONGFELLOW -Angler's Song
¶
¶ ¶
. ,,
O. / \
|--/ \
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\ --^--/~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Categories:
angler, fishing,
Form: Shape
The most Compleat Angler that's ever been
A zillion worms he'd gleefully dangled
Lies cold and squirming, and sadly doth glean
He's feast for the worms used while he angled
Categories:
angler, humor, humorous,
Form: Epigram
Sea dusk has lure-fish.
Desert loss without lantern.
Beam of angler-fish.
Categories:
angler, analogy, change, color, dream,
Form: Haiku
dark depths sea creatures
angler's luminescence lures
to razor sharp teeth
Categories:
angler, fish,
Form: Haiku
To a Love Angler
You threw out a baited line
and hooked
my heart;
Reeling me in, you promised
we would
never part.
That was such a long, long
time
ago:
Today, I just meander the river of life
and go
with the flow.
Was it just for sport that you threw me back;
or was it because of me
being just too black?
Categories:
angler, analogy, black african american,
Form: Prose Poetry
The Angler
I’m an angler
In the lake of my mind
Sometimes I hook
A big, shiny Alaska salmon
But most of the time
I live on tinned sardines.
Categories:
angler, appreciation, april, art,
Form: Light Verse
Broremann the Angler
On the pier where fishing vessels were tied up my brother
sat fishing all the while seagulls kept swooping and shrieking,
he blissfully ignored them. He had no hook at the end of his
line and when asked why he said, I don´t like to hurt the fish.
But crafty little Broremann was not as innocent as you may
think, he didn´t like fish, all those horrible tiny bones,
his mother had sent him down to the pier to try catch some
fish for lunch. He liked sausages with mashed potatoes and
stewed peas, now he could go home tell his mother fish didn´t
bite today, but made sure to put the hook on the line so his
mother could see he was really trying. An old fisherman gave
him two sardines wrapped in a newspaper, but wouldn´t you
know it the pair of sardines somehow slipped out of the paper
and made their way back to the sea.
Categories:
angler, food, growing up, history,
Form: Blank verse