Best Bass Poems
Big-Mouth Bass
An April morning, as the climbing sun
tipped up in sight, and lit the coming day
and colored red, after a storm was done,
I cast my plug, a stinger--red and gray--
to where it looked the likely place to me,
where hides the hog--from minnows swimming by;
then feeds upon those minnows, carelessly,
as pops the sun into the morning sky.
Upon the water, mirrored flat and still,
I raise the wake, so slight--then let it lay;
and cranking in, so slowly then until
I hear the chomp--that warns he's set to play!
And all the minnows cheer me in my quest
of battle with my most unwilling guest!
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Once was a folk singer back in the sixties
It was surely my time to shine
Along with the great Peter Paul and Mary
They seemed like good friends of mine
A group of six, The Canadiana Folksingers
Appeared on Canadian TV
A couple of albums and two or three shows
Played banjo, sure looked geeky
Hi Jolly was our biggest success
Wherever we went they clamoured for it
Did I tell you Bruce played a one string bass
It added some charm I'll admit
Wife Linda was one of the two girl singers
Sure prettied up the group I'll say
Didn't make much money but that didn't matter
The joy hasn't left to this day
Not everyone can say they were part of a group
Twas a very special time in my life
Wish I could go back and relive it again
A great time for me and my wife
© Jack Ellison 2015
His voice was loved,his colour not
Only the former him fame brought
Summa cum laude in study and sport
His origins drew him up socially short
Jim Crow laws were the sinister wedge
Which left him at his country's edge
His nation's shame burned deeply within
Denying forgiveness for his darkness of skin
He longed for the time when men would be equal
His involvement with communism delivered the sequel
At a time when McCarthy sought to unmask the red
So many suffered paroxysms of dread.
In 1929 after his London show he set out for home late
It was then there occurred a miracle of fate
Singing rang out sweet and crystal clear
Voices of Welsh miners singing songs to them dear
Amazed by their power in their penniless plight
He became their brother in arms that very night
Colour was not what bound him to them
But the poverty to which politics the lower classes condemn
So there was born a rich and mutual harmony
Between a star and a proud but poor army
They both knew the the sting of imposed misfortune
Refusing to give up their independence of tune
He bestrode the world like a black Colossus
Until he was pulled down by destructive bosses
Who would brook no challenge to their status
But his example lives on to fully elate us
This man ,Paul Robeson,a tower among men
Met persecution with stout acumen
He stands out as our beacon of light
For all the victims who fought the good fight.
I go to church and say amen once a week
But in my boat and in my spot
I am much more patient, quiet, and meek
I toss my line it’s just the right shot!!
Again, I will say amen as the bass does grin a lot.
Written for contest Anagrammatically Speaking
Brian Magness
Snowflakes arrive upon the scene
Showing off in grand fashion
Doing somersaults as they approach the ground
My eyes begin to sing!
Coating my city like icing on my favorite cake
Angel food cake with almond butter icing!
One more slice please!
I'll have a second serving!
Soon I'll be at my favorite place sledding with my grandson, Sebastian
Tossing and turning on our inner-tubes at Stubb's Park and sipping on warm cocoa
Snowflakes paving the way for one extraordinary day!
My city iced like the most delightful cake
We got our sleds in the trunk and we are on our way!
For my bud, Sea-bass
Love, g-ma!
11-26-14
Pull my string as i sit my back on you
i can make anything you want me to
your hands touching mine at the rhythm of blues
playing fastly like you do with your bass guitar, oh!
And you said, "Relax, don't scream!"
i did bite my string to shut the voice within
as you move....move...and move...
playing on my curve, my bass guitar moan!
Inner Whispers
Off he goes again into his own little world
To catch a Largemouth Bass.
Fishing rod and reel in hand
He takes another pass.
With his Bass Tracker boat
Trolling motor set on five.
The thrill of the catch
Keeps him feeling alive.
The sound of the water slapping the boat
And the sound of the reel as it turns.
The view of the lake in the still morning air
Makes him want to never return.
He tries to make his family believe
That it’s all about the fishing.
But he enjoys the peaceful break
From the stressfulness of living.
He vows that he will fish all day
Until the day is done.
He may come home with tons of bass
Or maybe only one.
For it’s not about the fish you see
Or the meal he might provide.
It’s all about the time he spends
With nature alone outside.
And when his time on earth is through
And his fishing days are done.
He’ll take his rod and reel with him
To his place in fishing heaven.
the bass line is woman walking
talking kissing making love
the bass line is a fish in stripes
a hook in time the bass line
is eadg its almost easy
a bass line
next to the beat
has feet is a woman walking
alone in her thoughts that no one sees
her desires a bass line
in brass a woman walking
her heels clicking
a cat on fire
sweeping brushing beats
cleats hushing echoes her steps
boots ***** cats hips
darkness lions a bass line
Within music, there are two things
The bright lights in the sky at night time
and completely losing it
We keep keep abusing it
Its not that we are choosing it
Its the beat
Its the Bass, beneath our feet
All these people eradicating heat
We admit defeat
Here we will always dance
There's always that one last chance
to let go of the ultimate plan
Our fate, is in our hands
We refuse to openly realize,
These disguises
This is timeless
We need spiritual guidance
If we say no?
Would it let us go?
Our hearts made of snow
Cold inside, Its where we are home
We dont know where to go
Theres a million things we cannot see
Theres a million thoughts, we cannot think
All our souls want to be free
been stuck here, for all eternity...
Put me through the crusher –
Break me down to ashes, to dust,
To the inconsequential crumbs on your plate...
I have become less than nothing,
A speck on your windscreen, a ghost
Tangled in gossamer flesh, with a broken heart
Clutched between her fingers...
You broke that poor weeping heart,
You broke my spine -
You mangled my soul into bleeding ribbons
And then you simply forgot...
I was thrown on your pyre and burned,
Melted down to fragmented memories,
To a tawdry reflection you maybe glance at now and then
I was never a person, never alive...
To you I was an empty vase with no voice to call my own
I had no life ‘til you appeared, isn’t that right –
You were my angel, my epiphany,
My brief moment of heady transcendence...
You brought my wooden soul to life
Isn’t that what you believe...?
You, the man with hollow eyes,
The vacuous rock star wavering on his pedestal of cracked glass –
You are radiant with brittle self-importance
And though you tore me to shreds, idly,
And though I may lie here in this graveyard of shattered hearts,
I am more alive than you –
I blaze with vital incandescent grief
And with my ripped wings I am more an angel,
Fallen, than you could ever be
So though you soar above me on your tawdry Icarus wings –
The sun is burning bright,
And your halo has but a tarnished gleam...
My beauty, your final fall awaits...
mothers day pilot pam bass
feeling a bit bored and crass
flew east in a wink
right into the drink
losing her sons boarding pass.
I caught a giant bass today
Except I really didn't
So large it was it broke my line
You really should have seen it
But as far as telling stories goes
It's the best outcome of all
Escape'd bass are always large
And landed ones quite small
There was a young man who loved fishing,
And left his young wife alone wishing-
That a gentleman of class,
would release her at last,
from the lips of the bass she'd been kissing!
Words are strange when first letters are switched
Such as “bice noobies” our life is enriched
Sing along with “Bony Tennet” we resort
Wearing “Talse Feeth” and “Shockey Jorts”
If I lost you along the way, I'm a “bon of a sitch”
© Jack Ellison 2015
The Bass Strait sealing rush began in eighteen-o-three,
where at least a dozen vessels were wrestling with the sea,
for the China trade was booming, for the want of skins and oils.
This was the first real export, from Australian soils.
With prices high as gold, more entered in the Strait.
Ships joining in the rush, from India, France, U.S.A.
Sea Elephants roaming King and the nearby islands,
soon disappeared as the buccaneers cut the big herds down.
Cutters, brigs and schooners, dared through mist and haze,
as the cut-throats, thieves and pirates, plied their bloody trade.
With-in a loose alliance they colonized the islands,
along the southern coast in the Bass Strait sealing days.
Governor King encouraged sealing, for its productive article,
though he couldn’t find an answer when the French entered the cull.
When the ship ‘Surprise’ was wrecked, the crew died in the water.
The governor he wrote, ‘this may stop advances from this quarter’.
Commandant Bowan who controlled Tasmanian land settlement,
underhand from an American, four hundred pounds to his pocket went.
Delano was prepared to pay for the fortune he would rend.
The commandant gave an extra lift - seventeen Botany Bay men.
New sealing grounds were found in the late of eighteen-o-three.
Kangaroo Island produced thousands to be stored way up in Sydney.
Eleven men on the ‘Antipodes’ slaughtered ‘til o-five,
where sixty thousand skins were loaded - a record for all time.
Labourers they left the land for their fortunes to be made.
Boarded the ‘Union’ or the ‘Pilgrim’ - any boat that’s in the trade.
Now Governor King was turning as new problems showed their face.
So many men had left the land with no one to take their place.
monologue
Sealing died hard in Bass Strait. By seventy-one the trade for skins faded away.
The need for seal oil disappeared and now today, seals are protected.
A long haul away from the days back when -
Cutters, brigs and schooners, dared through mist and haze,
as the cut-throats, thieves and pirates, plied their bloody trade.
With-in a loose alliance they colonized the islands,
along the southern coast in the Bass Strait sealing days.