Bright night
Moonlit site
Morning sun
Now breakfast buns
Still fish
Trout tails swish
I was out at sea in a fishing boat,
fishing in calm waters;
standing, I held a rod,
longing for the tug on the line
at the baited hook.
And as I stood there,
I saw everything around me suspended
like an image within a frame;
the white flight of a gull in the air,
the sun’s bright reflection on the water,
the boat’s intoxicating sway upon the foam—
all within the same frame.
At one point, the line was pulled taut,
and the world changed in an instant:
the seagull vanished into the northerly wind,
the sun hid behind the clouds,
the sea turned turbulent,
the fishing boat tossed like a walnut shell on the waves,
and—with such stubbornness—
I struggled to stay upright, clutching my rod.
And as I battled the wild waves,
holding the rod with all my might
against the pull of the line,
suddenly the boat soared like a seagull—
a white sail fluttering where wings should be—
yet, with such stubbornness,
I still held fast to the rod,
fishing for dreams
in the open sea of the frame.
casting in high arcs
pretty young things line the banks
casseroles for bait
We look back at the history of the past,
As if we were standing right there.
The time of reality flows on once again,
Sweeping me, who faces the past,
Away into that ebbing tide.
We look back at the history of the past,
Yet now, we no longer feel we are there.
We thought we were casting our lines into the sea,
But in truth, we were the very bait.
Adoring thoughts focus on life freestyle …
scoring just one private fertile square mile.
Stockpile goods, fish and hunt wild game to store.
Worthwhile garden work brings fruits, greens and more.
Adjourn from life beneath false, greedy skies.
Upturn simple joys as soulfully wise.
Devise strong home and outbuilds by hand earned.
Rise daily filled with all freedom discerned.
fish just want to hide
but hunger for a good worm
on the hook they come
Sunlight shines brightly,
Soaring skyward,
Soft, silken shadows shift,
Scattering sweet solar rays.
Bold blue beams,
Brilliant sky bakes,
Broad, beautiful boundless blue
Brings bright bliss below.
Cumulus clouds drift,
Cotton-white crests,
Curving calmly,
Creating cool, casual shapes.
Sunbeams steep soft soil,
Scorching subtle sands,
Spreading summer's strong spark
Surrounding silent spaces.
Flounder float far,
Facing deep dark depths,
Finding fine fishing
For this prime, perfectly sunny day.
Warm weather warms world,
Waking wild woods,
Whispering wind waves
With welcome warmth.
Clear clouds float far,
Fluffy forms flickering
From forgotten frontier fields
Forever forward.
Beaming brilliance bakes beach,
Brightly blazing,
Bestowing boundless warmth
Before big broad skies.
Stately sun stands still,
Shining strong rays
Silently, safely,
Soaking soft scenery.
It was no ordinary cloud,
Seeming wrongly to move
Opposite direction of all the
Other –
No cooperative morning, in general;
Sun seeming less inclined to dawn --
Lighting for him appearing not worth
His bother.
Got to thinking, perhaps nature has a mind
All its own, independent of my outing
Need? – should have replayed her all knowing
Tape on past proven feminine intuitive lead --
Fore-and-aft my nervous glances,
Masculine optimism beginning to fail --
Wind now developing a serious gale
(The main mast tearing a sail)
She surveyed me coldly and pale:
Though in your new Walmart cap, you
Look quite the sailor’ dashing, if you value
Your life, don’t ever again wake me early
To go fishing!
Wiggling worm
on my hook,
ready to catch
the big fish.
I cast my line
and bide my time
on the riverbank
so quiet and still.
I feel a tug,
my line grows taut.
I think I’ve snagged
the big one.
I pull and reel
with all my might.
I know it’s huge—
the biggest fish
I’ve ever caught!
I start to struggle,
begging,
“Please don’t get away!”
I pull and tug,
then yank the pole.
I pray my line
won’t break.
With one last tug,
the battle is done.
I pull in my catch—
only to find
a smelly old boot
dangling from my hook!
in spring rain
father teaches son to fish
getting his feet wet
red glow of moonlight
i can see his silhouette
standing in lone boat
A worm that floated in a brook
spied a fish, shivered and shook,
asked himself, "Who needs
a fisherman and his evil deeds?",
and quietly slipped off his hook.
she had a goal, attached to her one-track mind
Could not be dissuaded, our Clementine
She put a fishing rod and reel together
And went out to fish in Christmas weather
Why is she using a star for bait?
This was asked by our good friend Nate.
She’s fishing for an angel for the Christmas tree
What do you suggest her bait should be?
fishing
drop a line
use proper bait
drag set rod flexed line taut
tree limb
"Death gives us sleep, eternal youth, and immortality." — Jean Paul Richter
It has been stamped in my mind
The day you caught that red grouper
On Memorial Day in Florida.
Dear Carolyn, how can I forget
The kindness you always showed me
Although we lived so far away,
You in USA and I in Malta
Thousands of miles away.
Your last contest entry so sad.
It is a tribute on its own.
How can I ever forget
Your last soup mail,
Informing me that you were
Going to hospice to die there.
I trembled in fear until
I read that a week later
You were cremated
And your ashes spread over the ocean
That ocean you loved so much.
Now after so many years,
You are still my favorite poet.
And occasionally I search
And read your precious poems
All over again.
They are now written in Heaven.
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Fishing Categories
Definition | What is Fishing in Poetry?
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