Long Baits Poems
Long Baits Poems. Below are the most popular long Baits by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Baits poems by poem length and keyword.
The universal worm has got some competition now,
since ‘Sandy’ took me out to Bateson’s dam.
This don’t include the ‘whitchys’ we get in a broken bough,
nor ‘scrubbies’ on the hooks we have to cram
to hide the silver hook
that a ‘blackie’ sometimes took,
where a ‘mudeye’ just might have a better look.
We have to have a bucket for these water baits we scoop,
and a net of fly-wire mesh across the face
that’s been tied on with fishing line, around a metal hoop,
keeping flatness of the fly-wire in its place;
so when the net is lifted
and the water’s all been sifted,
we grab our bait, and with a turn the net is shifted.
We must don a pair of waders when we wander past the edge,
for our gumboots do not have the needed height.
And as we scoop the bottom in amongst bulrush and sedge,
at first we see the shrimp put into flight;
but gambesia and ‘toe-biters’
rarely show that they are fighters,
and multitudes of water beetles, are un-needed ‘blighters’.
Now the water lily pads that extend across the pond,
offer some protection from a diving bird.
But the tangled stem’s and roots, are no barrier to squand
a chance to net amongst the water stirred.
And little pygmy perch,
arch their pretty backs and lurch.
Quickly released for they’re not in our search.
And backwater from the overflow is holding treasure too,
as it wraps the base of tussock, weed and reed.
‘Sandy’ said “In here there is yabby”, and we net up quite a few -
the ultimate of lure when a blackfish wants to feed.
So yabbies highly rate,
as the premier blackfish bait,
almost if to say; write a ‘blackie’ on my slate!
And with numbers in the bucket quite enough to see a day
of fishing in the Bunyip, Lang Lang or Minniburn,
I go looking for the wildlife that we’ve kept at bay,
when scooping water’s edge became our turn.
There’s teal, black duck and swan;
pygmy geese keep feeding on,
but shy mountain ducks have took to wing and gone.
So Bateson’s dam’s a haven from the damming of a creek,
where expanding water draws a teeming crowd.
When fishermen like us retain the chance to reach our peak,
netting better baits where there’s better baits endowed;
if we take a little care,
and we take what’s only fair;
the better baits we seek will still be there.
Let us write something now
About the Kings before which we bow
Of the things we say as we vow
In those large mansions of lights
As we sell off our life rights
In submission to freedom of pain
That mounts day after day; again and again.
Let us speak out our mind
These always shall remind
Us of,
The insults we tolerated
When,with assaulters we cooperated
Covering up for their wrong
That our stay in their custody we would prolong.
Talk of how we left our jobs to be wives
Yet we struggled to escape from knives
Sat on the cold floor, trying to wipe away our tears
While the nourishment of our weakness thrived into our fears
We gave birth to children that became baits
That kept us wrapped round our husband's fingers.
Even so,we never got our respect
We waited for a new beginning while they slept
We tried to talk to them and were trashed
And the remains of our love were splashed
Like the thin soils onto which rainwater drips
Like the pain a hurt leg bears as it leaps
Through the thorns and pins
With the pain cutting deep through our skins.
The church rules we complied with
We walked the walks of old Smith
By bending low to culture
To keep our dreams from the cruel rapture
When the chiefs would disregard us
And send us off the village with just one ass
To a land they named elsewhere,
Where our power would be claimed by Blaire
Till we ceased to exist in actual sense
Like you even ever did.
Through writing it here on paper,
We are not condemning them
But bringing to their understanding how it hurts
To be yelled at, ignored,battered;
And enslaved or hurt in summary.
How unfair it is to live in a monopoly
With only our men making rules for us to follow
And calling us wicked and aduleters when we say anything.
We've been silent from the day of our vows
Because not even our inlaws or parents believed us.
That's why we have to pen it here
That our darling sunshines can read it
As they grow and look towards our seats
Which are ablaze and not pleasant to take rest on.
To our dear men,
We want you to change and
Handle us like your promises said
Ts all we ask of you
For the tears are drying us up
And our words no longer count
Because you have deprived us of our courage.
They parachuted in the sky with a mission to live or die hundreds of them bond together, cruising in the skies and surveying the hills .I watched from earth with curiosity as they broke the pattern and moved in four different directions, east, west, north and south they flew high above the earth until they disappeared in the clouds.
The Gods of the mountain hold the baits and the trees began to shake and an old man appeared in the wind singing an unknown hymn. He looked at me smiled and gave me a book and a pen and a handkerchief and said. “Well done my friend, you have to carry the mantel for the rest of your life, nature will support you and the heaven will embrace you, and when you feel down just look to the skies and you will know that I am around.”
A sudden ferocious wind swirls around in the air and propels the old man from the ground; he disperses in tiny particle into the clouds. That was the last time I see him around and so the legend about the old man in the wind resonates in the entire town. I can still see him waving his hands as the particle dilute all over the land and the winds began to howl from a distance.
The wind has blown the morning crowd out of town and the mid-day people are skipping up and down, they have nothing to eat but courage is keeping them on their feet while destiny propels them to the market. I watched courage mounting the ass and destiny pulling up the grass and the soul mutating in heaven.
I stepped outside for a while to breathe fresh air so I walked among the trees to find some company they took on a life of their own and purge water out of my gown. Something in my space was suffocating me, it was draining my energy and I could not breathe freely. The heat penetrates my body, springing up cubicles of water in my face and filling up bathtubs all over the place and the wind kept its balance in the tree.
I see the trees swaying in the wind and hands waving from the window as the plane touches down on the land for the first time and the crowd gathers around to get a glimpse of destiny as it emerges from the cloud. They rolled out the carpet and open the plane door and the wind harmonized with it on the floor. And that is where the story begins.
Again I wake in this wretched place
Where the devil glares with grimaced face
Reading my heart, stripping it bare
Savoring the scent of the secrets there
I'm slipping and sliding, the ice too thin
Carefully creeping, lest I fall in
I'm holding on tight with a white knuckle grip
Knowing he waits, for the moment I slip
And just as before, the first time I fell
He stood at the ready, casting a spell
Quick as a wink, he swiftly swooped in
Leading me down his pathway of sin
Dashing and daring, he's handsome and strong
He tied me in strings; then led me along
His clutch was so quick, I had nowhere to run
From the cold calculation, he fancies as fun
He baits a fine trap, with flattery and fawn
Seeking the weak to use as his pawn
Once I was trapped, caught in his snare
I was twisting and turning, gasping for air
He's a devil disguised, with eyes of deep blue
But nothing he says is faithful or true
So ladies beware, he's cold as a snake
And the treasure he offers, is gaudy and fake
But this time I stand strong, I'm adept to his game
Won't be fooled by his charms or bullied by shame
I'm squaring my shoulders, I'm calling his bluff
A lesson hard learned, and enough is enough
I say…bring it on you sly devil, this time you'll be beat
I'm wise to the tricks of a liar, a cheat
You can't take my heart, I've locked it away
Now…I am the slayer and you are the prey
So stare if you must, you'll have no affect
The passion in me, you can't resurrect
Your whispers fall dead, like leaves on a grave
You'll have none of me, or the homage you crave
May you lie there twisting, kicking up dust
With your mind full of soot and your heart full of rust
I've broken the chains that have long held me down
I picked up the mirror and turned it around
So, just look at yourself, you're sordid, unclean
There's nothing to you, behind the smokescreen
Smoke and mirrors together is a dangerous pair
They'll make you believe in what's really not there
The laugh is on you, cause I've learned your game
And the favor you seek, you'll never reclaim
I'm no more the victim, of your wretched deceit
And the armor I wear, you'll never defeat
I spotted an object from afar it was drifting towards the east
And the ocean current was flowing towards me and I could feel the pull of something bigger than me extracting my energy, and for a brief moment my whole body was heavy as lead and I felt as if I was dead, my breathing stopped suddenly but my engine was still moving.
Everything was still and I felt my whole body vibrating and water start filling up my mouth and body start sinking slowly into the floor.
I lost consciousness for a while and I couldn’t tell what was happing around me but I know that I was stuck in the middle of the sea and no one was locking out for me, but I felt something poking my side it was a signal that I was still alive .
A tug boat came to rescue me, and with one jerk daylight breaks through the roof and my body was back in tune and the dream quickly fades into the sun, and the morning was on the run.
I stood at the window and capture it all, the universe
was embroiled in a terrible brawl, the temperature
Was rising and the ice was melting and the soldiers began to march along the shores, the heat was so strong that it split
iceberg and toss it around and the people began to fear.
Oh what silence lies in the bottom of the sea, it is slowly moving
towards thee, it is floating with the waves and the current is it. From whence did it come? It is not a game; a familiar sound is moving it with the waves but only destiny knows where it will land.
A cradle is sailing in the expanse of the sea and it is coming to rescue you and me, put on your shoes and gathers the baits and make your way to the shore before half past eight. This time you will get the well-deserved break and you must not be late
There is a cradle floating in the distant sea and it has glad-tidings for thee.
Germy-Squirmy Little Worm
The most clever – yet so firm
Plotting more scheme is what you yearn
Schemes, snares, you're going for the fiery burn
Ruining good apples with your germs!
O Germy-Squirmy Little Worm
Gleefully striving not having yet learned!
Whimsically strict and forever stern
Infesting people with your dirty germs!
What wage – in the end – might you earn?
When having wasted your time transmitting your germs
Capturing innocent souls under vile terms?
O Germy-Squirmy Little Worm
I watch you there among the ferns
Shrivel and curl and horizontally squirm
With a loaded conscience full of your own toxic germs
Filling up to the top your internalized urn!
What might be your horrid fate
As of this very day or as of late?
O Germy-Squirmy Little Worm
What else do you believe you merit or deserve:
A beautiful eternity on reserve
Or the painful sores of an infinite burn?
O Germy-Squirmy Little Worm
I wish you not any harm of fiery burns
But,, I compel to leave you a warn:
Drop your schemes even those unborn!
Germy-Squirmy Little Worms ,
Ruining good apples with their toxic terms ,
Often place themselves as fishline baits
They often do not slumber…but stay up late
Scheming and plotting
Of more apples for rotting!
Only to find that the early bird
Gets the worm
Gulped back down to the earth’s center core
Having pinched themselves by their own opened door!
Once heaven is lost – challenging it is to return
Count your losses – O Little Germy-Squirmy Little Worm -
If you return with illusive ideas to scheme to Heaven’s gates
Without walking the narrow road
Without your germy dirty overload!
O Germy-Squirmy Little Worm
Stop the squirming and the roaming
Be still and remain silent
Return at once to your private dorm…
Motor is nudged to life in an arcing motion, arm pulling
cord. Vein-furrowed hands grasp the fishing pole,
slinging bait and tackle beneath one arm. Another
arcing motion, arm casting pole. Bobber spins
a helicopter course through sun-nipped air.
Loons call a soulful greeting, the moans of centuries'
separated lovers in mourning. Time trickles through
the notes of their songs. Meanwhile, bass glide
with their loud-mouthed sass,
perch and blue gills play tag. A lone
blue heron bills the murky depths for lunch.
Man baits his hook, readjusts his hat. Eyes squint
into the dark undertones of the pond. He casts
his pole, a fermata in the song of the loons. When this man
was a boy, he drove the spires of the Rocky Mountains,
frequented the five-and-dime, nuzzled
a nightly routine next to his wife, who mothered six children, raised
in a house far away from any pond. They bustled themselves
along through school as well as any fish pouncing on
supper-flies, dabbing napkins to the corners
of their mouths. This fisherman sliced their steak, knotted their ties,
held their hands crossing the street
until they were old enough to
mail college resumes,
pay for first dates.
Five years,
fifteen years,
thirty-two years and here is Granddad,
with his child's toddler learning to walk in the bowed
belly of his fishing boat. They stumble,
clanging clumsy feet on the metal, frightening
the fish away. The old man bends low,
a note in the song of the loons.
He places the toddler on two feet, guides her hesitant steps,
each pendulum swing carrying them a moment
further toward separation. In twelve years, the grown child
bends low, a note in the song of the loons, to kiss her
grandfather's forehead, as he casts off on his helicopter
course of afterlife.
There will be a better place for this information
when it prints as a small ad
there is a right to know
baits are nothing but
half of all of you
blink at heartfelt applause
behind no cause
hidden among million
quite unconscious of the blot
Is it large?
deploy the highest priority
when we promised to wait
and so fall back on poor me
got a gun
it had looked like a front page monument
after all, very tired of talking to you
while earners of a handout
to preserve inside tenderness
maintain their wound
youve layed there now for dramatic increase
Your highness need swiftly express that wish
been weeks let Yes
to start, sorry that you
who are caught
have next to no toys to play with
no time block was more celebrated
me, I have overwhelming need
to see a single moment not populated
which is hidden at the end of this
but looking much pleased
roughly hover without leg comfort
put the rattling bundle into her
we can see about packing only very sweets
you have received already or you will receive soon
a little fish
After thinking again
Id only be able to get a snack pack
Expect to sweep the nation
anytime I feel like crap
have a well equipped address
Visitors are welcome in the stabling area
we're not being kept
No its different
I can tell by this mark
Think theyll be intimate?
Thats too much, I take it back
Usually Id say...
It always seems like we'd be the best
Everyone else take the day off
You can keep the bruised
dust , I wish it you with all my heart!
every one of you
on guided tour
Holding, waiting
adapt when
new designs are given
and then toes tingle
don't put beans up your noses
they like you and so does uncle
joking in so loud a voice
so full of this minute
back to burning at your post
A FISHERMANS TALE
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
Blowering Lake in the Snowy’s is the place to be
To catch a Yellowbelly or Silver Perch
Or if you are lucky a Murry Cod or a trout
They all live beneath the cold waters of the lake
I flog the water with spinning rod and lure
Changing frequently my choice of lure
I try to entice a fish to strike…but no luck
At this rate I would be lucky to catch a cold
Along comes a regular fisherman, introduced himself as Wayne
Having any luck old mate he asks, not me mate I have no luck
No bloody fish here I says to Wayne, He says it’s not luck you need
It’s a worm on a hook and pure skill that will get you a fish
He sets up his rod and baits the hooks with wriggly worms from his garden
He casts the line out into the lake and proceeds to make a cup of tea
No sooner had he poured the tea when he had a strike, he set the hook
I’ve got a nice fish on you grab the net be ready to catch him
You lucky old bugger I says to Wayne, no luck involved just pure skill
A 2kg Yellowbelly as fat as mud he will go down well for tea
Not to be outdone I changed my lure and cast it into the lake
On my third cast I spotted the dark shape of a fish following
A strike I yelled as I set the hook and the fish- well he took off
I played him out till he started to tire, fetch the net old mate
This fish is a whopper; I played him out till he went belly up
Wayne rushed over and gently placed the net under the fish
Wow what a fish Wayne said the bugger is twice as big as mine
You were bloody lucky- I reckon I brought you good luck say’s Wayne
No bloody luck involved I say’s to Wayne, old mate
It’s just my good looks and pure skill
The vulture soaring high in awe
Creates her spine to prepare the fall
As though a bullet from the gun of HIS hand
She flies down to the Carrion of grand
The poets now flee as she sets sight
They run and scatter from her diving bite
She sees the weak and focuses in
Her beak enters first, on the "poets" with sin
The "poets" rely on her constant cry
For help from above as more come to fly
One after one they enter the chest
Of poetrys carrion they endulge in the best
The ink from the soul of poetry bleed through
On the face of her cleaner as she stares at you
With those eyes so black they could eat the light
From the page and the sage of your poetrys dear fright
As she sees her baits killer staring in awe
She realizes her job is not done at all
The "poets" she admires with her beak draped in blood
Are the fools that allowed this to happen with no judge
She removes her beak and see herself
In the reflection cast upon the "poets" true shelf
It is her that she sees as her eyes focus in
Convergant Evolution is the answer from HIM
As she raises her wings high and lifts her soul
She is now "poetry" as she did engulf
The thoughts of man as she flys away
She does carry them high from the "poets" true play
"You are now scavengers like I was once"
She replies to the fools on the ground in dunce
"You will now kill yourself for the one is in me"
True scavenger are yourself as you peck each others feet
"Poets" I laugh for you killed your own
"Poets" I cry for the future in a drone
"Poets" I am angry for there will be no more
"Poets" kill yourself and your carrion will be slow
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