Best Baits Poems
I lounge lazily on my deck chair
Up high in the spacious loggia
Loafing the time away, patient, waiting.....
The ocean ebbs into the small bay
As the sun sets far away over the horizon.
From below electric lights flash on
One by one and guitars are strummed.
The enticing aroma of paella wafts up
But I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
In the summer heat, I wait,
For the night to bring her near,
With a dance so sweet, she'll appear,
The summer heat is scarcely relieved
By the faint ocean breeze
The murmur of people reaches me.
She has arrived and the guitars sing.
So does my heart as I behold my wife.
Slowly she pirouettes on her dainty toes,
Her skirt resembling a veronica,
Like a cape that baits the bull
In a Spanish bloody arena.
But I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
I cannot see her red, red lips
That taste like lavender in height of summer,
I can just barely make out her silhouette,
Her sexual curves, her lithe footing,
Her inviting mien, her head held high,
a proud senora dancing just for love.
In the summer heat, I wait,
For the night to bring her near,
With a dance so sweet, she'll appear,
Soon the dance will end and I...
Why I just wait till she'll come to me,
In the dark cover of the night.
With a tequila and a night of love.
Swirl me, twirl me, spin me ‘round
My eyes are covered, subject not found.
Direct me here, then block me there
Smiles and snickers; won’t give a care.
Hates me, baits me, friend or foe
I stop to listen but never know.
Frizzy, dizzy, can’t find the beast
Removing blind, tail’s pinned on me!
AMERICA, OH AMERICA
America, oh America, the mother of Exiles,
Mighty woman with a torch,
Towers high as a top notch
Whose flame is the imprisoned fire
With conquering limbs empire,
Astrife from kingdom to kingdom
Aiming to regulate the world's freedom
Fooled the world, psychopathic savagery
Comes a nightmare nation's can't win. Sadly
Inciting the world's pain
Just for a self-centered gain.
Why enforce anti-coronavirus vaccine
To reduce the world strain
And population via an epidemic never seen
Earth quacking, nation's unconscious
Micro chip initiative, a sociopathic barbarism,
5th Generation arising but the world is suspicious
Now terrorism unites the Christians and every Muslim
Illuminati illuminating ill-boding injuries
With unimaginable wealth and affluence,
Obsession for power and control influence
Implementing the Luciferean agenda,
On a mission of no retreat no surrender,
Initiating a Bill through the Gates,
Deaths baits? Well, we will willingly wait.
Bill's Billions breeding bioactive vaccines,
Satan launching his arsenals and machineries,
Forby mendacities leading to deadly advancement,
Deceitfully enforcing a One World Government
Suggestively and opinionatedly by Pope Francis
Preparing the ground for the Antichrist menace.
"In God We Trust" means God's own country
Now oridinary a slogan to all and sundry,
Deviated from the Godly path of ancestors & esteemed,
No more the dream the dreaming dreamers dreamed.
America, oh America!
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 8th April, 2020.
There was a young woman living by the sea.
Her house was on the shore owned by her family.
The house of a fisherman that was tall and slender,
Was built on an island opposite to hers.
It was a starry night when they met.
Fisherman was on water preying fishes with net.
He saw a woman drowning in the sea,
She was caught by his baits accidentally.
The fisherman came to save her;
Brought her home and offered food and water.
Under the moon,they laughed and talked,
Footprints marked the sand as they walked.
The moonlight flashed in both eyes,
Hidden feelings suddenly arise.
Hearts were pierced by Cupid's dart
Filled the place with love and art.
Came the sun rise and ended their night,
Woman needs to go home and leave his sight.
Poor young fisherman can’t defy;
Hugged her and kissed goodbye.
Days have passed but memories still in mind.
On the balcony she sits, staring on the opposite side.
So she went to the opposite island to see him,
But found fisherman and his wife and child with him.
The woman stepped back and went to the shore;
She drowned herself for life’s not good anymore,
But someone stopped her and grabbed her.
It was fisherman who gladly said “You came back” and pulled her out of the water.
Out spoke the woman, --”You’re now married, so let me die!”
“What? I’m not married, you’re telling a lie!”
“I went to your house and saw you with your wife and child!”
“That’s my twin brother”, the fisherman smiled.
Now, it’s the fisherman and the woman living by the sea,
In an island where they both dwell happily.
With the moon above, they exchanged their vows so quiet,
On a lovely night where the stars are bright.
Because my brilliant hooks read indirect,
But bait directly one illiterate,
They likely slip stripped fish-net intellect,
Thus, now, I’ll lure completely different:
Just like the redwood trees that grow sooooooo tall,
Gapetto’s puppet’s nose Pinocchios,
And since I’m not a strung-out ancient doll,
I guess it’s you who picks the snotty rose.
You might believe you harness magic string;
The pixie dust of Pan in Neverland;
But don’t forget what came of Gollum’s ring
Once Frodo lost a finger from his hand -
It was rewound, re-reeled, forged gleefully,
Forever lost in false reality.
3/18/2017
Note: In keeping with John’s “Something Completely Different - Monty Pythonesque” theme I wrote this after randomly pointing to 14 different words in a Hustler magazine article that I then forced myself to integrate into a sonnet, one per line, in the order they were selected and implemented a rule of “no-edits” after a line was complete. The list went like this:
hooks, *****baits, fish-net, I’ll, grow, nose, strung-out, guess, harness, never, what, finger, glee, lost
From Scrabster harbour we set
Sea fishing we go
Off Dunnett Head
Dinghy in tow
A few hours we sail
To reach the spot
To hunt our catch
Check my lobster pots
This Pentland firth
Flowing blue and fresh
With our deep sea rods
Various baits, spinning meps
Along the way
Some pots we check
Crustacean grab
Lobster and dab
Destination reached
Our fishing ground
Sounder on
Fish are found
Leaded up, lines straight
Darrow's aplenty, strengthened trace
Lines down bottom hit
Watch the tip as we drift
The waves deceive
We think a bite
Natures water
Tricks us slight
This beautiful day
As patience allows
We hear a shout
From the starboard bow
Wow! dad,
Look at the bend on your rod
Is it a dogfish or ling
Or a monster cod
Posture right to reel this catch
Has this fisherman met his match
Over an hour this marathon lasts
Fish against man, sporting ask
Forearms ache, back strains
I reel it in, it then regains
Is it tiring, or is it me
This awesome creature from the sea
Moments later
Surface splash
A wing of skate
Adrenalin blast
Fish aboard
Tagged and weighed
Released with care
In its domain we played
The day goes on
With various catch
But only the one
Had met his match
The evening draws
With the firth so calm
As we watch the sunset
With a golden dram
To Mother Nature we raise our glass
She is indeed, such a wonderful lass
LOTUS FOR SLOPING KNEES
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
the contentment of disheveled twigs
sitting on shoulders of humming trees,
the sunlight wafting shades on meshed nets---
it is before early morning, pale always ever,
pagan and pliant as the swoon
of winged winds. after all, while village trawlers
tug the day’s haul of buttery clams,
salmon and weeds,
the river washes its feet unobserved.
even when the hills fondle the peaks
of embossed leaves, there is no time
for human leisure on the streams, not yet. not till
compass’ hours stray too long, tedious, unabated
for folk fishermen to haul the orb ropes
and slug aquatic baits in exile, washed
from sea wine that cradles trout’s liberty…
many a time, when incandescent beam
envelopes all things gentle and sunlight drifts
on lotus flowing, rowing; as clouds hover odorless
upon sloping male knees: fishermen become
the fishes darting free, finally tranquil…
content as disheveled twigs lying
on shoulders of humming trees.
,,,,,,,,……………………………………,,,,,,
© all rights reserved
Revelations Of Beguiling Gaze, From The Witch's Head
From dark abyss, many light-years away
witch's head, its beguiling, evil gaze,
yellow-eyed sockets, curses to betray
far more sinister in that blacken haze.
Alas! Its lights gleam in brightest allure.
Leading its lost victims to blindness sure.
She steeped in paganism, its evil spells
spiral coils, deceiving serpent-like trance,
heaving breasts, illusions from distant hell
baits true romantics, by star rays romance.
Alas! Its lights gleam in brightest allure.
Leading its lost victims to blindness sure.
Her reach, into space and far, far beyond
mighty darken surge, her galactic source,
hiding darkness of which devils are fond
to destroy innocent mortals of course.
New poem, 6-04-2019
Nifty Named Nebula's Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Chose: #9 - The Witch's Head Nebula
Power devours
Baits with stealth
Ensnares prey
A FISHERMANS TALE
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
Blowering Lake in the Snowy’s is the place to be
To catch a Yellowbelly or Silver Perch
Or if you are lucky a Murry Cod or a trout
They all live beneath the cold waters of the lake
I flog the water with spinning rod and lure
Changing frequently my choice of lure
I try to entice a fish to strike…but no luck
At this rate I would be lucky to catch a cold
Along comes a regular fisherman, introduced himself as Wayne
Having any luck old mate he asks, not me mate I have no luck
No bloody fish here I says to Wayne, He says it’s not luck you need
It’s a worm on a hook and pure skill that will get you a fish
He sets up his rod and baits the hooks with wriggly worms from his garden
He casts the line out into the lake and proceeds to make a cup of tea
No sooner had he poured the tea when he had a strike, he set the hook
I’ve got a nice fish on you grab the net be ready to catch him
You lucky old bugger I says to Wayne, no luck involved just pure skill
A 2kg Yellowbelly as fat as mud he will go down well for tea
Not to be outdone I changed my lure and cast it into the lake
On my third cast I spotted the dark shape of a fish following
A strike I yelled as I set the hook and the fish- well he took off
I played him out till he started to tire, fetch the net old mate
This fish is a whopper; I played him out till he went belly up
Wayne rushed over and gently placed the net under the fish
Wow what a fish Wayne said the bugger is twice as big as mine
You were bloody lucky- I reckon I brought you good luck say’s Wayne
No bloody luck involved I say’s to Wayne, old mate
It’s just my good looks and pure skill
Why do I do it, It’s hard to explain
This obsession that’s driving me slowly insane
The dark hours seem endless, the boredom intense
You would think at my age I’d have more common sense
The weather’s ‘Brass Monkey’ bitter and bleak
With many blank sessions for many a week
In pursuit of the Carp that might come my way
Making this session a red letter day
Watching and waiting or making a brew
Tying more rigs or warming a stew
As I sit in my Bivvy set up by the lake
Hoping a Carp will just make one mistake
Darkness gives way to a creeping daylight
I am now well alert for a feeding spell bite
Should I re-cast new baits to better positions
Or leave well alone, Ah! Decisions, decisions
My Bivvy’s an Igloo, glistening white
(My Rod, Pod and Buzzers got frozen last night)
The lake, from my bed chair, seems peaceful and quiet
When my left rod and buzzer erupt in a riot!
Out in a flash and strike into a fish
This feeling is magic and all I could wish
All the blanking and waiting and doubts that I get
Are gone as my Carp glides safe into my net
There are not many Carping and I like it that way
I can choose any ‘Swim’ that I want, any day
Yes, Carping in Winter is special, if slow
With each triumph hard fought for and that’s why I go
Motor is nudged to life in an arcing motion, arm pulling
cord. Vein-furrowed hands grasp the fishing pole,
slinging bait and tackle beneath one arm. Another
arcing motion, arm casting pole. Bobber spins
a helicopter course through sun-nipped air.
Loons call a soulful greeting, the moans of centuries'
separated lovers in mourning. Time trickles through
the notes of their songs. Meanwhile, bass glide
with their loud-mouthed sass,
perch and blue gills play tag. A lone
blue heron bills the murky depths for lunch.
Man baits his hook, readjusts his hat. Eyes squint
into the dark undertones of the pond. He casts
his pole, a fermata in the song of the loons. When this man
was a boy, he drove the spires of the Rocky Mountains,
frequented the five-and-dime, nuzzled
a nightly routine next to his wife, who mothered six children, raised
in a house far away from any pond. They bustled themselves
along through school as well as any fish pouncing on
supper-flies, dabbing napkins to the corners
of their mouths. This fisherman sliced their steak, knotted their ties,
held their hands crossing the street
until they were old enough to
mail college resumes,
pay for first dates.
Five years,
fifteen years,
thirty-two years and here is Granddad,
with his child's toddler learning to walk in the bowed
belly of his fishing boat. They stumble,
clanging clumsy feet on the metal, frightening
the fish away. The old man bends low,
a note in the song of the loons.
He places the toddler on two feet, guides her hesitant steps,
each pendulum swing carrying them a moment
further toward separation. In twelve years, the grown child
bends low, a note in the song of the loons, to kiss her
grandfather's forehead, as he casts off on his helicopter
course of afterlife.
Summer sight
Ripples of the river, in addition, current of the slope
And canoe's shake, ahead lover's smiley face
Foam like milky run, sprinkles of icy flakes
Scatters of cold drops, and sprinters of river's
Funniest on earth I was the monarch in the moment
Greenery of the bank, chirps of the birds
Fisherman's' net in cold water, hung baits in the strings
Livelihood for life how to celebrate remembering events.
Different case, separate face, writing poems in open space
Blue water on wade, ship's glade on that, mind blowing taste
Different tongues, hands on waists, berets on heads
Blue pace on space, thin white rope of jetliner's trace
On sky, blue ocean far and wide no boundary limitless
Lines of poetry were heading on, no wish for ends
Far from bank, in mid of sea, a bird on mast how it came!
Patches of clouds, below of sun, seems gliders from heaven
Smiling face, touched my heart, as bliss landed from heaven
Response from there, dignified the heart, add more line of poem
In one corner, the day of summer, a sight of humor was on
Two shadows of beau and lassie,was erecting as if pillar one
Drawing eyes of gentlemen and ladies inadvertently to them
The day was bright, guys in that, imbibing fun of summer season
Dance of sharks, delights of dolphins, far in sea reminisce remained.
Rainy days chill makes me lazy here in my cabin
Only croaks of frogs, I hear, singing with no rhythm,
Snails crawl on the ground; earthworms are visible in my garden
Used them as baits, to the river I went for some fishing.
Yet water running from slopes makes the river cold
No fish on surface, they swim deep and avoid,
I stayed hours while singing 'Raindrops Keeps Fallin' in my Head'
But nay, no fish eats my bait; can I just shoot them, instead?
Sam said true, "Fish deep, fear not to plunge deep
Fulfillment is gained; why not face your fear,
Swim and play, water is enticing, dear
Water holds fun and lots from it to keep!"
I like to catch fish, though I cannot swim deep
Neither kill a fish, take off its intestines and gills,
Scaling it, cook and eat it in zest
I'd prefer catching fish and throw it back, I guess!
Hmn...I think I prefer it as a sport than feed
Yet I have naughty thoughts as I do the deed,
If my man is here, he may join me as we catch some fish
Ha ha! Can we make love before we eat the main dish? (Wink)
Inner Whispers
*****
Date: March 7, 2014
Light Poetry
7th Place win
Contest :
Gone Fishin'
by Caleb Smith
He floats along in his porcelain tub
on an evening sea of gold
and the ruby eyed fish wink at the child
as he shivers alone in the cold
In his nightshirt of cotton
he baits his small hook
with a heart that he picks from a pail
and raises the bed sheet
he dragged from his room
to give his wee ship a red sail
and the dolphins do smile
as they watch the young lad
when he drops the heart in the deep
for he wants to catch a seahorse prince
to ride and gallop and leap
the lady of evening encircles the boat
and strokes the child's soft head
then lifts him right up and carries her charge
back to his warm trundle bed
and dreams of the night in the little blue boat
are tucked away in a drawer
as the angel of sweet dreams tip toes away
and silently closes the door...