In the wind, hear a plaintive, mournful wail.
It is more than a wolf caught in a trap.
It's more than fishing gear catching a whale
and rainforests being wiped from the map.
It is a voice that cannot speak in words.
Across the ages, you discern the moan
of vanishing prairies, buffalo herds,
that's carried by plowed up topsoil, windblown.
Earth's untamed ecosystems we hold dear
are crying softly, asking for our help,
grimly warning that they will disappear.
Like a badly injured dog's dying yelp,
hear the wilderness's last gasping breath,
"Save me from the clench of languishing death".
Another sunny day out for me
Fishing is where I will be
I load up my car with my fishing gear
And I will go and see if the lake is all clear
I add a worm to my fishing pole
Catching a big fish is my goal
Last year the fishing wasn't so great
But if I don't catch one today I will hate
Maybe if I go back to my favorite spot
I will still have a real shot
I throw my line way out into the lake
All I'm asking is for a break
The next thing I knew I got a nibble
My fishing line kept on wiggling
The fish gave me a big fight
But the fish was still not in my sight
I started to reel in my fishing line
All I can think of is this fish is mine
I got my fishing line back on land
But I don't understand
Well that fish was gone, but it gave me a lot of fun
All I wanted to do was just catch one
So for fishing today I'm all done
My Man Cave my shed,
All it needs is a bed.
Its become my private domain,
Where nobody can complain.
Its full of tool and all of my fishing gear,
There are even some of my comfortable old clothes that I just like to wear.
There a comfortable chair,
And lots of things I don't like to share.
I can simply fiddle about,
I can sing, scream or shout.
But mainly its a place where I can peacefully sit and just stare into space.
Poem to be read with Picture Number 2 (boy on boat)
For Him
In the midst of a simpler time
A boy and his boat set a-sail.
Anchored in dark, murky waters
Fishing gear, picnic lunch, and a pail
As he baited the hook, his zest grew
Underwater, the line disappeared.
Waiting patiently, eager with hope
The boy stared in case anything neared.
From the shore, mud-smeared friends queried why
The boy chose to spend this day alone.
Most times, the lad fished with his daddy
They’d watched him learn how as he’d grown.
But as dawn woke the weary that day
The boy had been struck with the news
While he slumbered, his daddy’s soul passed
Full of shock, he had no time to lose.
So, transfixed to the surface, he stared
For his father, his hero, he prayed
A ripple...a tug...the boy smiled…
Through his tears, he showed Dad who he made!
Won First Place!!!
Written on November 11, 2021
Hectors Dolphins are listed as, endangered
and a sub-species, Maui’s Dolphin are critically endangered
with only about 55 left, in New Zealand’s shallow waters
in the North Island eastern shores, is their home with borders
Hector Dolphins dorsal fin, looks like Mickey Mouse’s ear
and they are the smallest and rarest, of all marine dolphins
Their biggest threat, is being caught up in human fishing gear
and humans polluting, boat striking, developing and seabed mining
Blue Whales are listed as, endangered
and are found in Chile, Gulf of California and the Coral Triangle
They are the largest animal on the planet, weighing tons of nearly 200
and they need to digest four tons of krill, every day they wrangle
Blue Whales are the loudest animals, on our Planet Earth
and their low frequency whistle, can be heard for hundreds of miles
The Blue Whales heart is not modest, to a small cars’ magnet girth
but their look of a giant missile, has not scared their gentle profiles
Blue Whales have an important role, in the health of marine environment
but their threats by environmental change, from the human development
and habitat loss, toxics, ship strikes and being entangled in fishing gear
and climate change impacting all, has only strangled our atmosphere
Hawksbill Turtles are listed as, critically endangered
For 100 million years, they have traveled through tropical seas
looking for food, a play mate and a birth place that is great
as their gene of navigation, is their lifetime information
Sea Turtles help to maintain, the health of coral reefs
by eating the sponges, from the surfaces of reefs
They also eat jellyfish, with a narrow-pointed beak
to extract an exotic dish, so they don’t become weak
Human activities have taken their eggs, meat, skin, and shells
and being caught up in fishing gear, and nasty fishing hooks
has depleted their numbers, all created by the human cartels
ana the high temperatures, depleting the male history books
The boys sat on the bridge, dangled legs above the water,
a tractor crossing that lifts and rattles, loosely laid with sleepers,
rut tracks between the marshy fields as rough wheels slowly pass,
crossed with bankside bullrushed dikes and scattered lonely sheep,
dagged bottoms up, all black heads down,white teeth to wetted grass.
Fifty’s cotton printed frock skirts mother’s seated lap.
Her hair is tightly bunched and tied in cotton farm scarf wrap.
Her arms enfold and hold me there, as I am quietly sat.
The boys are pulling tiddlers, quick flashing in the sun.
Excited shrieks and sudden shouts drift down the weedy dike.
I see their makeshift rods and lines pull fish up one by one.
I hold my cane with cotton thread and watch my bobbing cork,
and wonder why the boys have fish, and why this boy has none.
Uncle made the fishing gear, made safe for one so young.
Uncle made the fishing gear and thought it would be fun,
so hook and bait were missing, for safety, there was none.
I spoke to our atmosphere…
Asked it how things were going?
It’s not pleased with pollution
That man dumps in it daily.
Next, I spoke with our oceans…
They say plastic bottles and
Old fishing gear and garbage
Will destroy all life in them.
Then I quizzed Earth’s molten core…
It said it wasn’t happy
With what man does to this earth…
Count volcanic eruptions.
They all tell me that it’s time
Mankind comes to his senses
Before they band together…
Pay polluters back in kind.
W.C.Hull © 2020-5-6-WCH18-WCH1-18
W.C.Hull © 2020-5-6-H1446-2556-I52-K52-24-L59-24
I used to fish from the banks of a lake next to our farm
many many years ago. My fishing gear consisted
of a thin branch cut from a willow tree. For a hook
I used a needle my mom gave me. I would use pliers
and hold it over a fire.
Then I would bend it to form a hook. For a line, I would
use white sewing thread. For bait, I would use mom’s
cookie doe and shaped small balls and place them on my home-made hook.
I remember the blue green water of the lake where one
could drink without fear of contaminants. I would
use a match stick for a bobber and caught numerous perch and crappy. Mom would clean them and cook them in lard she made herself.
Life was simple then. Dad and Mom were always together and would often held hands as they walked to the grocery store. The air was so clean and pure that breathing was like inhaling nature. I would listen to the silence and my thoughts
were so clear and simple. I knew who I was and where I came from.
Oh, how I miss those carefree days.
THE OLD FISHERMEN BY THE SEA
They meet there every morning…every day of every year.
At the end of the pier they gather…with all their fishing gear.
Sometimes they greet each other by first names
Sometimes they smile instead….
Sometimes it’s a simple gesture…
a wave or a nod of the head.
As they bait their hooks and cast their lines
they chatter endlessly
about their lives, their families and sometimes fishing…
these old fishermen by the sea.
If you ask them, will they ever miss a day of fishing
they quickly say… “We won’t.”
And they are happy if they catch a fish
but just as happy if they don’t.
For though it was fishing that brought them together
now, it seems to me,
it’s about so much more than fishing
for these old fishermen by the sea.
You pack up all your fishing gear
On the night before
Then you wake up very early
And you head on out the door
You drive when it's still dark outside
And mist is in the air
Sandy-eyed and wide awake
Because you'll soon be there
As you approach the river
And the sun begins to rise
You step into the water
With your fishing pole and flies
Quietly you cast your line
And let the flies drift free
You let it flow into a spot
Where you think the trout might be
Patience is the remedy
And patience does prevail
You may just hook the fish you want
To bring home for a meal
I prefer to catch a trout
And then to set him free
I may keep one or two all year
And that's okay with me
When I do release a trout
It's a feeling I can't explain
I like to see him swagger off
And leave him in no pain
It's always nice to fight a trout
And it's fun to reel one in
But just to be out on the river
Will always make me grin
So if you see me fishing
Or if you see me out
Rest assure I'll be fishing for
That big old rainbow trout
Wake up bright and early
Eat a hearty breakfast
Pack up a yummy lunch
Check all of your fishing gear
Put on your oldest clothes and favorite fishing hat
Don’t forget the sunscreen
Time to get a move on, while the fish are still really biting
Quick stop at the bait shop for night crawlers
Then onto your favorite fishing spot, down at the local lake
First thing to do, is set up your day camp & make sure no wild critters can get into your food
Then, it’s time to bait your hook and throw in your line
Nothing left to do, but sit back & wait for someone to nibble on your line
Best part about going fishing is sitting back and enjoying nature, without dealing with your daily hectic life
Two friends go out fishing,
it was a lovely day.
You cannot beat this pastime
to dwindle time away.
They park beside a bridge
get on their fishing gear.
Feeling really good
they even have some beer.
Further down the road
coming from afar,
three cars are approaching
one is a Funeral car.
As the front car passes
one man stands and bows his head,
clearly showing respect
to the bereaved and to the dead.
He lingers for a moment
then puts back on his cap.
His friend looks on in awe,
thinks what a decent chap.
"That was very nice of you,
to stop, respect a life."
"To take onboard the pain involved
for a husband or a wife."
"It was the least that i could do,
in fact i feel some tears."
"After all she was my wife
for nearly twenty years!"
The sea calls my name; to the call of waves I respond
For seven full days with no one I’ll correspond
My fishing gear packed, I board a cabin cruiser
To escape society, man’s worst abuser
The GPS set, I head fifty miles offshore
To a reef where city lights can’t be seen anymore
The sea would remain calm; hey, this is my story
And the galley’s pantry filled with inventory
Gull screeches and dolphin cackles, the only sounds
In each direction a blue horizon surrounds
Since the break of dawn, the grouper have been biting
Catching my dinner; nothing is more exciting
As the orange sun paints clouds pink before it sets
I commune with God and nature, have no regrets
Through the skylight above the cabin’s comfy bed
Venus, Mars and the Milky Way appear overhead
Reminders that I’m but a speck in God’s grand plan
Merely a traveler whose perceptions expand
A lifetime I’d want, but settle for just one week
To live upon the ocean and adventure seek
* For Carol’s “A Week to Do as You Please” contest
Related Poems