You lucky, lucky thing, you got away this time,
said the fish to the anglers hook and bait,
as it jumped and missed, once, twice and thrice.
the day passed in watery waves,
amongst fronds and roots,
planktons and corals, swirling currents
that brought other food in plenty,
but the loss of that piece of worm,
left it in remorse.
It swore it would get it next time,
and planned how it would lie in wait
the next day, and jump with all its might,
to grab it tight, and make a meal of it for
once and all!
Next day, the bait came down
but just as it prepared to fly towards it
it was grabbed by another!
and another and another!
So it was, the fish lived its life,
in the depth of the lake, grabbing
food the waves brought,
never succeeding to grab
that damned bait!
“How awful!” it would often recall!
“ A failure, I have to live with, shall
never ever, try again!”
The day the hour,
The meat the shower,
Show no oscillating octopus to an octagonal obelisk and eat a Greek tortilla upside down in a second. It is wiser to tread lightly in a miller’s abode. Round and round the turrets go those turtles so mind your footing for shells can be slippery really.
When shopping for an Aberdeen Angus bull it is wise to carry an umbrella as showers can occur from any lengths of tail thus rendering talismans useless and a fruit fly would remark that a plate of steamed rice is simply not that exciting really so now after all that information you can leapfrog over the dandelions wearing a cotton pair of anglers waders and a fish hat with or without fins.
X anthropomorphic creatures X
The rapids slow churning, struggling
Cling to the sharp-edged stones
Dart through cracks and crevices
To no avail
For water has no conscience
Winter ice may give it hope
Clinging to frosted stones
Seal its tormentor beneath
The grimace of an icy blanket
Mute the moan of its raging fury
Spring’s whispers taunt its deep silence
Dance upon its awakening ice flow
Entice still shivering buds to bloom
Trout await the first fly hatch
Anglers await the trout
Wide rivers ease the water’s rage
Old earthen dams again hold fast
Divert its ire to brook and stream
Long fingers reaching to the sea
To meet on tides its destiny
The Meat Locker
The largest ice freezer of free-range Texan
long-horns where mice wore fur to survive
broke down, the carcasses began rotting
thrown into the bay.
The day after, sharks came to the surface
throwing up, turning the water foamy
For anglers, it was a bonus they caught
big marlins and red snappers
Be it planktons ye feed on or small fish
Afloat in sea on pair of fins as feet,
Whatso waters may have fancied your wish,
Perhaps it was lake as your safe retreat
From fishermen or anglers indiscreet.
Perchance as Cod, your oil livers did cure,
A gourmet chose you for a choicest treat
And picked ye up from a shop floor secure.
O Beauty, fit to be in a fish tank,
What pity, you’re on a kitchen platform,
What travesty of destiny’s fair norm
That you were looked at just as lifeless lank.
Yet, O departed fish, we find you fine,
A fair dish if consumed with table wine.
______________________________________
Sonnet |05.06.2024| fish
Refuge
Whither the river flows and finds its way
Life surges and ebbs by hunter and prey,
There, beside wooded paths alert anglers fish
By slow waters where cool willows sway.
Painted boats glide on the bright wavelet’s crest,
Below shaded bridges, fish feed or rest
And gather in close clumps of reed or sedge,
A Grey Heron sits upon its open nest.
Passing tall grassed meadows where cattle graze,
Under oaks, horses retreat from heat filled haze
Nervous rabbits run to bank side burrows
And field mice escape the lone raptor’s gaze,
The silent hunter waits and finds his mark.
Inside a moored boat’s cabin, a dog’s bark
As fox and cubs sleep in their hidden lair,
While others find refuge in the watchful dark.
Barry Stebbings
July 2023
Written: July 04, 2023
______________________________________________________________
A respected river, your holiness sublime.
Purifies within if we let your essence seep.
From the powerful mountains, you climb
Pious and deep, it cures thirst spirits, creep
We all joined in a loud wave of ovation.
Farmers and anglers exploit it commonly.
Before you slowly dyke into the ocean.
Your pristine oceans are just heavenly.
Favoring even those who have sinned.
I've begun to write a tale of keen people.
Your purity is lovely, a river so revered.
You arose from the depths of a steeple.
Quenching the thirst of souls, from the abyss.
Peasants and boatmen, united in bliss,
Your presence is a source of joy and peace.
As we gather along your banks, we find release.
But as you journey toward the endless sea,
Our hearts ache, as we agnize you must leave.
Yet your holiness remains, forever to foresee
Waters, so pure, cleanse our souls, we believe.
yes I saw a UFO
Or what's now called a UAP
GLIDING ABOVE THE water
Of the river Tennessee
I was with my brother
We were stoned
It is the truth
There on the bank
About a mile from our mom's
Back in my misspent youth
Yes.It was shaped like a saucer
Encircled with lights around
A spotlight upon the river below
It never made a sound
My brother the first to see it
Exclaimed
Do you see what I see ?
My mind trying hard
To repell it
I said point it out to me
He said I cannot believe this!
As I slowly came to grip
With this other worldly sighting
If it happens to you here's my tip
Accept what your eyes are seeing
There is no point to deny
And irritate your fellow man about visitors from the sky
The strangest thing about it all
When I've brought it up
Over the years
Is he never wants to
talk of it
As if resurrecting his fears
And I can't help but wonder
As a sportsman
They seemed to have sought
In Waterloo Alabama that night
Was it actually
My brother they caught
If it's true
They threw him back
With nary a hair out of place
At least with none
he discussed with me
By our visitors from outer space
"Piscator non solum piscatur"
("There is more to fishing than fish.)"
______________________________
Brown trout anglers catch few fishes
and almost always let them go
barbless hooks make more for wishes
then creels full to dazzle
children’s eyes.
Brown trout anglers tell tales distilled
of truth, of rises that didn’t take and
fish as long as your arm that always
get away.
They reminisce over glimpses of otters,
mink, beavers, muskrat and deer.
pileated woodpeckers, wild turkey
snapping turtles, frogs and snakes
orchids, iris and skunk cabbage
mosquitoes, blackflies and nettles.
And if you define a river by its banks
and not its water, then it remains the
same waiting for next year.
__________________________________
gold fish
was in love with
the gorgeous zebra fish
her love for her striped mate was blind
the two spawned to have their colour merged breed
love is love, colours mean nothing,
but anglers had their laughs
sold them as grilled
gold fish
3rd placement
Written 12/02/2022
Give me a Rictameter poetry contest
M L Kiser
2468108642 syllable count on PS syllable counter
Careful Little One
Swim away little one
Do not stop and look
That thing hanging on the line
Is Shorty’s fishing hook
I know it looks inviting
But baby you will learn
That you would rather skip a meal
Then bite down on that worm
He is the greatest fisherman
That comes here to the lake
and if you try to tempt him
He’ll just throw in some new bait
He has circle hooks and anglers
Treble hooks with points of three
He has colored hooks and metal hooks
Even hooks that look like me
He doesn’t come here to relax
No napping in the sun
He comes here for the catch
Never leaving with just one
So stay away from those hanging things
Don’t you dare forget
Cause if he lets you slip away
He’ll catch you in his net
04/07/2021
Written for my friend Shorty, the greatest Fisherman I ever knew
Seagulls gliding o'er the pier,
Their raucous cries caught in the wind.
They duck and dive without fear,
To snatch a fish as they descend,
While anglers to their lines attend.
The pungent essence of the sea,
Inundates the atmosphere,
And sand kicked up by briny breeze,
Stings and causes eyes to tear,
But sun is shining and sky is clear.
A pelican roosts on a wooden post,
Napping lazily in the sun,
While children collect shells and boast,
Of which of them found the prettiest one.
A perfect day for having fun.
4/7/21
People pass on foot or bike
Or skateboard, wheelchair, scooter,
While chatting, singing, texting
Via iPhone or computer.
While in the sky the birds take wing –
The pigeons, seagulls, sparrows,
A few in pairs as if they’d felt
The sting of Cupid’s arrows.
Beneath the river, I presume
Are lots of local fishes,
Which swim and rarely do fulfill
The anglers’ fervent wishes.
Between the bushes and the trees
The squirrels frisk and scurry
And sometimes mice or rats join in,
But always in a hurry.
A sunny day out in the park
With life around me teeming;
If not for masks on every face,
I’d think I might be dreaming.
When are danglers
called anglers
And what are they fishing for?
Hoping for a bite
or a swallow--
Some form or function
feast or frolic
of oral delight.
grandpa, a hard rock fisherman
and freckled fly rod journeyman
eyed fish in the morning mist
kissing with giggles and a lemon twist
said he saw a bobbing head
round and fat with tuffs of red
six feet tall as the tale’s told
painted in a mermaid gold
casting bait the gossip spread
like butter on a loaf of bread
the silver hook reeled in
snared pearl dentures left to him
sporting a sparkling wink and Cheshire grin
papa set hooks that haul us in
anglers balanced that fishy tale
filleted on a comic Richter scale
two puzzled men ventured to say
Arthur C. Clarke wrote the play
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