Best Carp Poems | Poetry
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New Carp Poems
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narcissus and the carp, a tanka
by Foster, Gail
Carp Fishing in Winter
by Bettridge, Rob
the carp-pet bagger
by swindell, peter
View all new Carp Poems
The Best Carp Poems
I am lost...
I am lost…
among towering pines,
of shaded bliss
leaving pine cone markers
along a soft needled path
The breeze is cool,
fragrant wisps through
clinging vines braided
in abstract patterns
as I try to gather
I can see the sun
through the forest
falling lower in the sky
reflecting on the
calm flowing waters
of this small stream
I have been following
for what seems to be hours
Carp and minnows,
orange, black and gray
with little care though
I am becoming worried now,
my body aches from walking
but it feels good,
the air is still and sweet
as I hear an owl
in the darkness
of the treed canopy
I come to a clearing,
tall grasses sway
and I see the sunset
blooming like a prized rose,
petals awash in bright pastels
on the distant horizon,
my mind lingers
as euphoria caresses me
in a panoramic utopia
I sit for a spell
gazing upon the
wonders of nature,
thinking back on
what I have seen,
what I have experienced
and what I am
witnessing right now
and finally realize
I am not lost at all…
I am found
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017
Her world is as radiant as the sun,
golden as dandelions that cover
the fields and hillsides in springtime,
or the sunny faced jonquils and daffodils
that turn winter white to yellow bright.
Her touch lingers in pools of golden carp,
in yellow bananas peeping out from
verdant large leaves in peaceful plantations,
and in succulent golden ripe pineapples.
Her beauty is embraced by the yellow feathered
warbler and canary who sing joyful tunes.
She resides in the golden fingers of
light that spill through clouds, and in amber
leaves that slowly morph to red in fall when
she colors chrysanthemums and marigolds.
Earth's gold veins call out her nurturing name.
She is a divine dame...she is Mother Nature!
March 26, 2016 (rev.)
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016
Mountain of a thousand colors
clothed in Autumns dress
kiss the earth 'O' Wondrous mother
painted world - flora's caress
Trembling giants bathe in light
quaking Aspens touch the sky
as guards of lore and fabled sprites
gift boughs of shade through watchful eyes
Crystalline river of indigo
give life to minnows, carp & trout
breach high the soothing waters flow
while gadflies rove and dance about
Symphonic winds sing casting spells
valley grass begins to dance
whips through the mountain copse & dell
warblers dance for new romance
'OH' iridescent color thief
on painted mountains dwell
with wings draw patterns of motif
boreal sounds of tinkling bells
Copyright © shaunda lindsay | Year Posted 2016
Virginia's abound with hills that roll off her shoulders
Wet rocks glisten on the edge of the lazy water
Translucent fish arching through the cold channels
Silver barbed hooks rusting in tree trunks
Dangling over the water, and breathing life into the earth
Wet like your skin, see-through blue eyes
Making waves as the children pirouette off the stone cliffs
Disappearing into the emerald green and slate shadows
Meeting the cool rush of the river when they get down there
Or that old carp that Lizzy caught last summer but she let go
Swim bladders shining like mirrors, reflecting oily promises
Running after the great blue, pistons heaving in the hills
Soot on daddy's solemn brow, over his gentle eyes
They all come running, soaking and plodding home
Eager hands grasping for the pie in the window
While the last beat of the summer wind kicks around
Makes the quilt with many colors take flight on the line
One more day under the belt, and another notch in the bed post
Sleep like kings, little Southern Royalty
That old time hang dog moon will see you through
Copyright © Jeremy Martin | Year Posted 2013
My conscience came to a clearing,
Freed from clamorous cacophony
Of criers, critics, and claimants
That commonly carp at me.
Calm, cool contemplation
Called out its care and concern:
Consider a commitment to courage
Fortitude's clear-headed urn.
Calculating quickly a crisis,
I had come to the critical curve:
Could I commit to courage and clarity--
Or into craven cowardice would I swerve?
My conscience had come to a clearing:
Could I conquer my demons this time?
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2018
AT ONE WITH NATURE
The sun shines, brightly lights my day. My garden verdant many hues of green. Greater speedwell, resilient, blooms no matter the season. Late spring, early summer it explodes. Late Jack Frost, it copes beyond my imagination. A host to many invertebrates sadly made conspicuous by their absence. All misguided by a warming sun. The jet stream meanders too far south making for freezing nights. Most flora copes albeit momentarily set back, however,
most insects' don't survive. The daytime warmth encourages insect eggs', pupae, to hatch, doomed, instincts confounded.
one word... paradise
once our world
The day moves on, observed bird life failing, softbills take seed to feed their young. They are faced with a catch twenty-two situation. Feed themselves or feed their young. Aphids on the day abundant, some well sheltered will, and do survive the relentless nights. False security for others, how many would it take to keep a blackbird alive
where one can cultivate
a love for nature
Sun still shining yet the wind chill felt. Summer, I think what
are you doing, but realisation sets in, it is not nature faulting it's us humans treating it as though it is a garbage bin. I know I do, and, maybe you do too. That is to help nature as we always have, sadly we are just a few. We try our best to draw attention to the devastation world pollution is creating. To much time spent by governments debating, if at all? Cos I reckon for centuries they have been faking. Take a good look at your garden where are all the pollinators, Thanks to winds, well at least for some, for no doubt there is flora that will succumb.
a garden to cultivate
My day in my garden nearly done. Koi carp fed, some photography done, Garden sorted, grass cut, hedge begging to be clipped. I look agreeing, but it will keep till the morrow, come what may. Check the feeders, all is fine. Time now for a cuppa, to sit with my beloved, make sure she's comfy and make her smile, for sadly she been poorly for some time.
at one with nature
how a garden should be
a passion nurtured
Copyright © Mick Talbot | Year Posted 2018
Hubby will NEVER let Dragon and me go to a pet store! Ever! Again!
It started when we needed Dog chow for all our really big dogs… then…
Dragon found the fish, with some being sold for only 15 cents apiece…
We were told; they’re sold for others to eat. Oh, No! Say it isn’t so! EEP!
Now, we believe, in save the whales, and every other gall darn thing.
And Dragon and I believe that the heart grows with everyone added in.
We were ready to cry, so we made a simple Momma and Dragon, foray.
We decided to save two more lives and then to bring them home. Yeah!
Don’t know how it happened, our plan got out of hand, but it was so grim!
We went back, many times, buying them all, filling our tank to the brim,
We spread the word, to help the goldfish, and so others hearts could grow.
Hubby said they had to go, so we gave them to people every where, so…
With 4 remaining, we decided to keep them at our house, safe and sound.
But low and behold, they kept growing quickly bigger, as they swam around!
Dragon wanted to take the goldfish for a walk, and to play with Santa Jack.
And the penguins kept coming around, looking for their midnight snack!
OK, maybe we didn’t think this thru, Yet, Tho, Still, Something wasn’t right!
They’re growing way to fast! From a 10 gallon tank to 150… In a week?
OK! Dragon what did you do? You took your Elvin magic gift, given to you?
OK! Spit it out! What did you do! You sprinkled the four fish, a little, did you?
Oh! NO! So we put them into the lake! And before The Elfin King was found…
We had the first Fresh Water Goldfish Whales, ever were or are… to be found!
We started the first Midwest Whale herding society, and when the Elvin King…
Was found, He & Grandpa Troll, were joyously rolling, in tears, on the ground!
By this time, like Dragon, they needed tons of food to eat…so we decided to…
Rent them out, to eat Asian Carp, who are, menacing, destructive & misguided!
Darned if it didn’t work! You know! Serendipity, low and behold! The answer!
The Agricultural Department was happily beside themselves… That is after…
They got over, that quirky and somewhat strange, Goldfish Whale, thingy part!
So, life goes on happily, especially for those Goldfish Whales munching on carp.
And yes, they’ve finally stopped growing, I am happy to say, and have big hearts.
And those menacing Asian Carp won’t be such a menace, from now on... Today!
As, ‘Alls well, that ends well’… and with great relief… I am wont to say...
And now Nobody's eating these babies, after Dragon had his way!
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014
Having trouble writing? Just do as I have very recently done.
I decided to go on a vision quest, to find my special spirit guide.
But no one would leave me there, to meditate alone, by and by.
Grandpa Troll gave me a blanket, and Dragon made me a fire.
The Trolls turned it into a weenie roasting, ruckus kinda bonfire.
Somewhere during the night, I just kind of, fell fast asleep. Gee!
I woke up with a pillow that Hubby had decided to quietly, give me.
I woke up to the Power Rangers being watched on the Trolls phones.
Then the Sheriff of CrazyLand came to check on me, not at all alone.
Somehow he left lots of breakfast yummies, he said, good for me to eat.
The penguins and Dragon put a tent over me, as I tried to do my thing.
All because they loved me, and because it looked like it would rain.
The bears guarded me, and gave me some honey, they were so sweet.
The fireman had an Asian Carp fish fry, Fresh Water Gold Fish Whales…
Supplied to feed the whole community that now decided to sit with me.
The Dogasaurus wrapped himself around me, to make sure I was warm.
The Rapid Response Turtle Team, came to check my vitals every hour.
But I knew I had my answer, when Hubby came and gave his hand to me.
For he and Grandpa Troll already knew, what I now had learned, you see!
I now knew I would never simply find a single Spirit Guide there for me.
Because they were surrounding me, everywhere around, quite literally!
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015
Wrap, rap a Christmas wrap
open the mind turn on the tap,
a roll of paper with colouration
metres or yards without perforation,
to be carefully folded with a gift inside
a present for the season you wanna hide,
it'll add to excitement on Christmas day
when the careful wrapping will be thrown away
after being opened by rip and tear
to reveal slippers, socks, or underwear.
Rap, wrap a Christmas rap
not quite a minefield but still a trap,
would you begin with 'w' or wiith an 'r'
because starting with a 'c' would be a carp too far,
so rap or wrap it's a dit's time to nap
and when you awaken from the alcoholic cup
it's time for you and the washing-uo,
the drying of the crocks will be the last lap
it's time to slip into your Christmas Wrap,
now cosy and warm and the whiskey in reach
as once again you've missed HM's speech,
the broadcast and your nap did not overlap,
surprise, surprise, you missed her Christmass RAP.
So this must do there's no need to clap
it's only twelve months to pick rap or wrap.
now is the time, it's over, this is a WRAP.
Copyright © Mike Roberts | Year Posted 2013
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
Copyright © Rob Bettridge | Year Posted 2015
In some places, springs leaves too early
making way for the fun season; whichever
the activity we choose, let's do it well and happily...
before loneliness sinks us into unbearable despair.
If depression, aches and pains prevent some from engaging
in sports: read a novel, do cleaning chores and try walking...
it will do the body good and keep the mind active and sharp;
isn't age a burden for musicians not being able to play a harp?
If only we were young, we would do hiking and climb a mount,
go sailing and catch salmon, lobster, carp and bluefish;
at eighty, some join a marathon and win it: what's their secret?
Is there a miraculous pill that can boost energy in a flash?
Let the fun season be a daily escape from much boredom and stress,
summer is not only a season for teens who wear baseball caps;
find a sport not too strenuous, something that you can enjoy...
my favorite one: is having a tennis match with unbeatable uncle Tony!
Copyright ( c ) 20015 by Andrew Crisci
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2015
Why am I grouchy, tired and upset?
And why can’t I cheer up like others I’ve met
Who go on their way as though walking on air?
Smiling and humming with nary a care
My friends have all shunned me and it’s getting me down
I can’t lift my spirits or shake off my frown
All I can do is to carp and to moan
I suppose that’s the reason I’m left on my own
Is it ‘cause I’m ratty or my jokes are so bad?
Is my aftershave chronic or my clothes really sad?
I am getting a complex, I can’t work it out
What is causing my anguish as I go about?
I should show my mettle, be macho and tough
(But it’s hard to be manly when feeling so rough)
And never show weakness, striving never to fold
But this is quite different; I’m a Bloke with a Cold!!
Copyright © Rob Bettridge | Year Posted 2015
Far far away
August going away
Mangosteens and durians
Because she loves me
Grumbles at something
Crawling at my feet;
Doing your rounds
Show flat visit
Buying a new house;
Location fits budget
Sends me messages;
Love forgets pain
Feverish flu attack
Body senses dreary;
Moon dancing sky;
So many colours;
Enjoying the sun
Bush scrub hedge
Nice array fencing;
Outside from inside
Wet ink stains;
Carp in this lake;
Calm in swift current
Secular world affairs
Sit quietly still
Wait for word pulse;
No haiku moment
Images in a dream
Misty morning pattern;
Two swirling fishes;
May blessings abide
Joy fills my heart
Sorrow is too great;
Purge now all burdens
29 August 2014
Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014
The American eagle, called bald ‘cos of its pure white head,
Is named Haliaeetus leucocephalus, from the Greek;
Hali means "sea", aietos means “eagle", leuco "white",
And cephalos simply means the “head" with the streak.
The bald eagle lives near the sea, a river or any such reservoir,
Any water based freeway as it devours fish, salmon and carp;
It rests in large, mature stands of conifer trees,
To feed its young whatever it hunts and occasionally sees.
America is a nation of the head, and not a land the heart,
With an independence declaration of a human kind,
Which points to god only when the universal is pertinent,
That unifies by raising strength and concern of mind.
What’s most apparent to me from its wording,
Is that it seeks to mechanise the human good,
What’s moral, right, true and honest,
Such that the outcast can produce and be understood.
The pure, white head of the American bald eagle,
Seems to connotate this loud, bold and clear,
And its dark brown body seems to speak,
For all Americans who aspire from something mere.
The size of their nests can be twenty metres wide,
And this can represent the typical American home,
Which to me, a Scots girl aware of semi-detached abodes,
Are like football pitches where you can jump and roam.
The bald eagle was becoming extinct,
From the 1960s right up until the late 90s,
And as this bird is now proliferous and thriving,
It reminds us that the American Dream is all-including.
It was the symbol of the Great Seal in 1782,
And J F Kennedy referred to its appropriation,
As it symbolised the strength and freedom, forged and died for,
Of the mighty, magnificent independent American nation.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
Amidst the budding
branches the Robin sings, the song is
carried tunefully in the spring air.
denoting that all is well in his world
Every sound listened to by all
from tiny field mice scurrying looking for food. to the
giant grazing cattle happily eating the young grass
Hammy hedgehog listens, his little tongue
is busy eating the cat food left out.
Jewel like blades of wet grass hide the
Koi carp swimming
lazily in the garden ponds, enjoying the sun's warmth.
Many beds of daffodils their perfume intermingle with the
nearby tulips who stand tall, their many hues
overcome your senses, the tiny snowdrops
perfume infuse with the hyacinths as they all
quietly make the colour and perfume of Spring.
Raised temperatures, bring out the people to enjoy the
sunshine to their bones, lifting their souls.
Taking notes of what has survived the winter,
unhappy when they find a favourite
variety of plant
wilted under the pressures of winter's
Yes, spring means a smile to the face, a tear to ones eyes,
zest to the soul.
Penned 22 February 2015
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015
The company was wonderful;
The meal was quite delish,
All lovingly prepared except
The jarred gefilte fish.
But certain things you have to have –
Tradition reigns supreme –
And years ago, gefilte fish
Was added to the scheme.
Of course, back then my grandmothers
Prepared it all from scratch.
They started with the pike and whitefish,
Fresh from someone’s catch.
I’ve heard of homes where pike or carp
Would swim around the tub;
Nobody took a bath ‘til grandma
Clunked it with a club.
Now that gefilte fish was great,
‘Cause it was made with love;
The fish in jars is tasteless, yucky, bland –
All the above.
To make it fresh you need much more
Than I have got to give,
And so I serve the bogus stuff –
My guests will all forgive.
The other food was killer
So I really must profess
That, minus homemade fish, our Seder
Was a great success!
Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2013
The carp and the trout
are swimming courageously,
Angler is a poet
Copyright © Rollo West | Year Posted 2012
Barn lights brighten the early morn,
Signaling the start of my day,
Mornings of madness followed by serene
views of a meandering river where
carp jump and blue herons fish.
Majestic ash line the river’s edge,
Birds flit from my porch to trees,
Grabbing food from the feeders.
Leaves curl warning a storm is imminent
Take shelter, a rainy day to ponder.
Silent mornings when all at work,
My dog sits at my side,
Calm soothes my soul, my mind awakes,
Poet cannot be denied.
Chair by the window with laptop,
Looking at the river,
Words, ideas float in my mind,
Masterpiece- I shiver.
Written September 7, 2012
For Sara Kendrick’s contest
“My Quiet Place”
Copyright © Lee Ramage | Year Posted 2012
propriocetion of an unhappy deltoid
the eyeball flambé of envy
and other itches stitches palsies and gouts
shout give up, throw it in, it’s too much!
such suggestions never make me waver
rather raise a stubborness in my endeavour
ring a bell far out in my stormy sea
inchcape finisterre inistrahull light
oh no stubborness is the star
stops me bailing out
keeps me bailing
in the teeth of howl gales bark
though land and home and sky are out of sight
and my unwilling bark
fills fast in time’s approaching night
and all is mist and sea’s unstable carp.
Copyright © john mccartney | Year Posted 2011
...early Spring walk around 3.2mi. Lake Calhoun...so named after controversial industrialist sotten with checkered past...movement underway to return name to Native American Dakota "Bde Maka Ska" White Earth Lake.
Purple Finches trill their soothing song
to people walking around Lake Bde Maka Ska,
a deep glacial lake in the heart of Minneapolis.
A lone Eagle cruises above, easily snatching
spawning Carp from the shallows, gracefully
cruising away, talons firmly clutching the
I enjoy watching families enjoying their first
walk around the lake, infants in strollers taking in their first inhalations of sights, sounds and
smells after winter isolation.
Young people wander wide-eyed, wondering
how the world sees them, as they establish
identity through dress, movement & interaction
with others...subtle changes will occur as the
summer evolves...reacting or not, to perceived
Most of all, I enjoy my own movement,
evaluating subtle changes I notice in myself,
returning to the park bench by the path where
I comfortably situated my 87yr. old Mom,
grateful to have the opportunity to once more
enjoy our city of lakes, wondering how many
more such gifts she will enjoy,
Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2017
If I could be any place I have Lived
it would be back in dear Dar-es-Salaam
this is where I left my heart moons ago
a simple yet enthralling and lovely place
Everything one needs on the doorstep
exotic fruits filling the various trees
gay birds of multi colour singing so sweetly
the sparkling ocean just a hundred yards away
Instead I now live still in outstanding beauty
my house built in 1918 is sturdy and charming
it has served me and my family loyally and well
over the years I have turned it into a sheltered haven
My garden now a paradise for butterflies and birds
three ponds I have built within its serene bounds
full not of koi or carp just of sticklebacks and rudd
five species of newt now call them home and frogs galore
Very private which suits this old hermit so well
at the top of my back garden, a shady thirty year old oak
it was just a sprig of ten years when I planted it there
keeping it company a British Lime and a wonderful walnut
All of these I planted over 23 years ago some hazelnuts too
a most wondrous Bramley apple tree always so bountiful
so much more besides to delight my eyes as I potter around
taking pause I reflect on other homes and decide that here
Here in this place I have all and more that I could ever want
that my life is happy and settled and so much inspiration
surrounds me, my grown children close to hand and many friends
who I would sadly miss. This place here and now I know and love
Contest Know Your Place
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2013
Churning with brown mud,
Carp and catfish splash and jump,
Lily pads float with
white blooms adding more beauty.
Tall Elms guard the water’s edge.
Wildlife seen daily,
Blue Heron fish for supper,
Cows drink the water,
A raccoon sleeps in the tree,
An owl perches on a branch.
A river for sport,
Canoes float by surveying,
Anglers motor by,
As the river freezes blue,
Snowmobiles skate on the ice.
Written by Lee Ramage
September 7, 2011
Contest by Francine Roberts
“The View” (a Tanka)
* A view from my back yard.*
Copyright © Lee Ramage | Year Posted 2011
Solving the Problem of Wedding Gifts
By Elton Camp
How I sympathize with the dilemma of a couple planning a wedding! The stinginess of some who are invited is simply incredible. They seem to think that some worthless gift or small amount of cash is perfectly acceptable. Do they not realize how expensive weddings have become! At the very least, each guest should pay his or her pro rata share of the cost of the wedding and reception. To do less is not only rude, but is stealing from the newly-married couple, especially since the marriage may not last and each will have the expense all over again the next time.
The bare minimum should be a gift costing over $300 or the equivalent amount in cash. If both husband and wife attend, the expected minimum goes to $500. If the guest finds money short, there are payday loan establishments aplenty and a cash advance on one’s credit card is another viable option. In the case of older persons, their Social Security check can be endorsed and presented to the couple. If a boxed gift is given, it should come only from the bridal registry. “It’s the thought that counts,” is an outdated idea.
Making matters unacceptably awkward for the couple is not knowing what each one will give until it is too late to do anything about it. By the time they see a paltry thirty dollar gift, the parasite has already eaten their food and taken up a seat that could have been occupied with more profit by another person. Accordingly, I recommend for adoption a new way of dealing with this delicate matter.
Admission to a wedding should be only by tickets paid in advance by each guest. To accommodate the financial limitations that some may claim, the tickets should be priced in increments, beginning with $300 and then in $50 steps after that. The ticket will be mailed to the guest, already attached to a lanyard for hanging around the neck with the attendees’ name and the amount paid prominently displayed. Then seating at the ceremony and at the reception should be front-to-back with the tightwads receiving the most remote seats and being served last at the reception if anything is left after the more courteous guests have been tended to. This is entirely reasonable and fair to all concerned.
Another advantage of this arrangement is that the ticket can serve as a “thank you” note, eliminating much trouble to the couple and effectively shutting the mouths of those who carp about not receiving them.
Lest I be accused of mercenary motives in making this proposal, let me make it clear that I am already married and have no prospects for profiting from its adoption.
Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2013
I awaken to the lovely snorts of my sweet English bulldog,
Frankie sits up in my bed, legs out, looks sort of like a frog.
Toddling down the stairs assessing the light from the window,
We know whether the trip outside will be short or rather slow.
Terrified of thunderstorms, she’ll do her job with no delay,
But she’ll wander and sniff, taking her time on a sunny day.
While Frankie smells the grass and deposits her little gift,
I make a tea and look out over the river, it gives me a lift.
Blue Herron feeding and carp jump, the temperatures scorch,
Cardinals, Bluejays and yellow Finch fill the trees by the porch.
You breath in the fresh air and appreciate the nature present,
Peaceful and filled with hope, its a typical morning, no big event.
I refill the bird feeders to keep my feathered friends coming back,
Then Frankie and I go inside, mornings we’ve perfected the knack.
Written August 9, 2012
By Lee Ramage
For Francine Robert’s contest
“A couplet- morning”
Copyright © Lee Ramage | Year Posted 2012
A species of fish can actually jump into your boat
Asian Carp they're called, six feet in the air they can float
Up to 100 pounds
Can bust your crown
No need for a fishing line, but you sure can be smote
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2017