Nostalgia Fishing Poems

Once almost a little village
Within the city’s bounds,
Huddled around the fish dock
With its own smells and sounds,
Streets of rows of terraces
All well kept and neat,
Pride...

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A disturbance in the sand
betrayed their hide
and when prodded by a rake,
claws shot up
primed to latch onto
a careless finger or toe.

A big "bluey" had a...

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Still clear and sunlit
are the tanned, weathered faces
of the fisherman,
their bloodshot eyes,
beanies and checkered shirts,
how they
stood hip deep
in their boats 
looking up at a gathered...

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Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

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An ordered massif of concrete
in the green Adirondack range,
crumbling Greek amphitheater,
it’s presence strikes the mind as strange.

The chips and cracks throughout the tiers,
the weather worn...

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I'm sitting along the Bosphorus
watching the russian tankers pass by.
They are big,
so am l....

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I wrote this after a conversation with an old retired fisherman whilst sitting on the harbour wall at Mousehole in Cornwall, UK ...

The old man...

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Submitted to the "Gone Fishin" contest
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Trollin’ the islands at Texoma,
It was April, 1964.
New rod and reel in hand,
I’d NEVER been fishing before.

A Garcia 2510T casting...

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Simple were the things that brought me so much joy,
During the fleeting summers when a Hoosier country boy!
As free as a soaring eagle in the...

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I watched the old man mosey to his favorite fishing spot.
Ahead of him his faithful dog capered at a lively trot.
No fancy fishing lures for...

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Cool breeze Payne’s grey sky
Night lit by a harvest moon
Two red bobbers bounce

By: Robb A. Kopp...

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As the light starts to fade, at the end of the day,
And the last rays of sunset cascade on the bay.
The fishing boats set sail,...

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Reminiscing of days filled with laughter and joy
Waiting for a new adventure to begin
Mangoes and peaches, palm trees and beaches
God, I wish I was sailing...

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The Mayfly is up on  the  Kennet,
Well it’s Whitsun why wouldn’t it be?
There’s a fine downstream breeze,
And  the  fishing’s with ease,
Do...

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