early morning sky
breathes a refreshing start
as I throw my line
a golden aura settles on a perfect october morning
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I stepped on someone's gum
Now I'm part of a nation
I slipped on a paving slab
Now I'm part of another nation
Not that it’s up to my liking
To change nations every day
But I can't argue if there are
So many nations that I don't have time to learn
Which one I'm a part of
At every moment of the day
Whose territories I appear on
And disappear without a care
I don't mean to disturb all that
Importance of power, those dour faces
That we are doomed to notice everyday
I don't mind if anyone is converted
To their familiar religions with those
Cruel gods created by state-minded prophets
In my view all this tormenting world
Was invented on purpose to spoil life
To intimidate us for no other reason
Than power of the immortal troublemakers
Evolution is impossible
Consolations are rubbish
This species is hopeless
Not the first, not the last to become extinct
I’m already gone fishing forever
Once I saw my eternal love’s face in the sky
I wish to become a weed
Growing on by a waterlogged stream.
Pundits say Zelensky just lost his bearings
~ I say he served Trump a red herring
On the banks of a river, with a rod in my hand.
With the sun on my face, whilst i'm feeling suntanned.
I sit by the river and let my worries fade.
With dreams of a big one, whilst looking for shade.
With my line in the water, a bobber afloat.
Just watching those ripples, thats caused by a boat.
With the soft calming sound of the breeze in the trees.
Being lost in the moment, whilst feeling at ease.
As your bobber goes under, a fish takes your bait.
This feels like a good one, raising your heart rate.
Theres nothing quite like this, its not down to luck.
Its such a good feeling to have a fish on your hook.
With a tug of the line, and the shine of its scales.
Every pull on the rod, as i see it's fishtail.
With the sun shining brightly, i relish the fight.
Whilst playing this fish, trying to do everything right.
When all of a sudden, my line it goes slack.
I've lost the fish off my hook, Oh what a setback.
It was the thrill of the fight on this warm summers day.
As we dream of the fish, the one that got away.
with bucket in hand
hoping to catch some big ones
we're hitting the lake
sitting by the lake
waiting on the fish to bite
pebbles across lake
I’ll hang out here and hope to see
My hungry heart filled to the brim
With one of these little fish, my plea
Is that I’m watching my dinner swim
Carefully spinning, coming back to me
I’ll wait, you see, there may be two
Who would like to become the sacrifice
For a good dinner, I only need a few
Just a bit of tartar sauce will suffice
My only wish, to taste them, to chew
I’ll not hesitate to share my find
With another kitty, someone I like
Who will understand – one of my kind
A purr-fect friend who will strike
With a smile, bringing peace of mind
I must listen to my owner who reveals
The opinion that my hunger could kill
These little fish who would be such good meals
He says that, despite my hunting skill
These fish are pets so their bowl he conceals
I love to go fishing,
And I love to date.
I was just wishing,
You would take the bait.
Out on a clear lake,
We were feeling fine.
But my big mistake,
I used an old line.
Was the same line heard,
More than once before.
With her final word,
We don't fish no more.
Now that I look back,
Don't know what to say.
She wouldn't cut me slack,
The one that got away.
nestled in the lee of a thick flint wall
guys taut, grappling to hold firm
our canvas castle shook and shuddered
flimsy but somehow reassuring respite
as mountain giants prowled through the night
inside, hunched low over his stove
blue flames licking around the pan
Pops whistled a calming retort;
his gourmet dish to warm us up
bangers ‘n beans in a tin camp cup
we ate and we watched through the half closed flap
as lightning struck nearby -
so, while thunder grumbled at the drumming rain
(still in coats, with hats on heads)
we stretched out on our blow-up beds
father and son fishing had been the plan
on the shores of the lake that weekend
but different memories, caught by different lines
were shaped and set in that storm
as Pops read me ‘The Hobbit,’ all cosy snug and warm
shiftless louies constant wish
for a new satellite dish
made his wife stammer
in her best grammar
come home once you caught a fish.
Burbling brooks
Small fish hooks
A rod goes thwip
With subtle whip
the float will drop
soft gentle plop
Tick, tock, tick
Patience the trick
A mighty thwap
The line goes snap
Wind with zeal
The whirring reel
Splish, splash, splosh
Oh my gosh
That's one big fish
Fit for a dish
Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Date wrote: 8th July 2022
Casting nets into the sea
On the shores of Galilee
Heard the call to "Follow me"
They left their nets immediately
Simon, known as Peter too
And his brother named Andrew
Sons of Thunder, James and John,
Left Zebedee and quickly joined on
No more were there nets to mend
That life was now at an end
All was dropped right there and then
Jesus declared them fishers of men
----------
(from Matthew 4 - This is in the Lind30SR form)
An ardent angler
silhouetted by
la luna’s pale glow,
waits in silence
hoping that a trout
will nibble his bait
5,5,5,5,5,5 checked with HMS
Tableau - 6 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
03/16/21
Freedom, gone fishing!
The Peaceful Transfer of Power?
One Nation, stolen by Fraud,
With Liberty and Justice for none?
Tragically, our National Guard sleeping
in garages
All questions, new regime dodges.
~Malarkey Regime~
1/23/2021
~4~
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.