Long Fishing Poems
Long Fishing Poems. Below are the most popular long Fishing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fishing poems by poem length and keyword.
A conscious ruling fact
truth is the first casualty
within those claiming to be caring
in supplying compassionate healthcare
introducing a regulated and safe system
Where it is medically necessary to protect
the mental and physical health of the woman
one massive lie has been exposed on many fronts politically incorrect
If the Eighth Amendment is removed from the Constitution
it is crucial that we fully understand that these proposals are hidden
those safeguarding the children of Ireland's rights
which is as men and women we sign away our freedom freely
giving supreme power to Europe removing democracy
like lambs to the slaughter disguised as abortion
allowing foreign powers complete control over our country
behind the curtains of their deal
which in the first phase began with a vote yes for Europe
It failed at the first attempt so it was honey combed
they repushed this issue dressed as a peace deal
then began taking over our waters and fishing grounds
as the people we will need to awaken sooner rather than later
from whatever state they are in signing away our heirs
everything is not dressed as is
when you read between the lines
"That's utter balderdash," I loudly screamed
you can't catch a dragon with a mousetrap.
This operation proves you have no clue
we're in trouble; put on your thinking cap!
I'm sorry, but luck is not on our side
and we don't have the time for dissension.
Apples to apples we don't stand a chance
it's your life; you had best pay attention.
Jumpy, you're frightened of your own shadow
and before nightfall you'll be hearing things.
Setting traps is a total waste of time
it's a foolish plan, for dragons have wings.
You boggle my mind; I have to speak out
let’s let common sense affect the outcome.
Don't risk getting seen, until we spot it
and don’t attack it with pitchforks, that’s dumb.
We'll need to do everything in stealth mode
using a password other than guess who.
And by employing our wits, we’ll listen
for a kerplunk; dragons like water too.
And then we’ll fling out all our fishing nets
that we'll secretly prepare in advance.
And hope it gets hopelessly entangled
for I think drowning it is our best chance.
(Quatrain)
Mar. 04, 2019
The mausoleum echoes my soft steps
Down long corridors of marbled crypts –
My father loved to hike and fish.
Stairs, a left, then right and at the end,
On a lower tier, I find his name
William – but only one ‘L’ remains.
I gently touch the name of he who gave,
Me the patience to cast in stream’s cascade,
Then tenderly a Brook Trout to play.
But as I do his ‘I’ falls to floor –
The noise clatters down the corridor;
I pick it up but cannot restore.
The mausoleum is silent as I weep.
Down these halls, each night a man with broom sweeps
Letters into drawers and there to keep.
Trees bending overhead, shadows fully employed
Fish resting 'neath the surface, their camouflage enjoyed
Abundant insects frolicking, diving and skimming the stream
Predators hungrily watching, nature's bountiful cuisine
Anglers stealthily wading, with implements designed
Perilous imposters, dancing on a line
Imitation insects, alluring and derailing
The angler flicks his wrist, often times prevailing
With skill and precision he tosses the bait
Dancing through shadows the imposter skates
Fish exploding in total captivation
Writhing about in lustful aggravation
Recoiling he jerks, prepares for the fight
Adrenaline rushes, as his trophy takes flight
Netting his prize from the crystal clear stream
Reliving a memory of a wintry dream.
an original poem by Daniel Turner
An art or a sport
Some whisper a ‘crazy obsession’,
And like Golf where age won't cut short
At least our pastime won't lead to depression.
A hook and a line
Much patience, sun balms,
No rush when your world is sublime
With glistening waters and a horizon of wavering palms.
They ask what we do
Long hours surveying the sea,
So little they know for amidst all that blue
Lies the quest that only we see.
That adrenalin rush
A shout or a curse, the rod twitching possessed,
Tranquility broken no semblance of hush
All steely resolve now hard pressed
Arms aching, back breaking
Reel screaming the line pulling so deep,
Fish gaining, strength failing
Maybe this task is too steep.
We win some, we lose some
The joy’s in the chase not the catch,
No matter the outcome no semblance of glum
And for this feeling there’s simply no match.
There's a part of me that still lives on the water
A part of me that you can never keep
Tears fill my eyes as I dream of the ocean
I see that island paradise in my sleep
My fishing boat lies sleeping in the harbor
Anchor weighing heavy on the ocean floor
I still miss all those nights at sea
My fishing boat will sail again no more
This was the life that I had chosen
From one port to another I would roam
Never stayed long enough to be familiar
Never knew a place I could call home
Sometimes I walk along the shoreline
Listening to her song out on the sea
That's when I know that someday I'll be leaving
The song she's singing is calling me
There is something magical in a night at sea
There's a million stars hanging all around
Untold stories lying behind me
New horizons yet to be found
Now that my sailing days are over
And my life is shifting gears
I can still resurrect those memories
When I taste the salt in my tears.
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind
I ride on a sound Arabian stallion
He takes me to snow mountain
Where snow trees are stunned
by cold wind
I get down by a swirling stream
I walk with him downhill
Where I see Lynx and Bear
busy fishing
Off again on our course free
I ride at ease gracefully
I see a palace at a distance
My heart set racing
We draw close to the mansion
I see a delicate princess
Walking elegantly in rose garden
Blushing wind
She was singing to a chickadee
Birds were chirping to her
As butterflies danced on flowers
Enchanting
I took my three magic rocks
Wrapped in silk, I sent her as gift
With a note that read, ‘Be so
Blessed dear, walk in truth’
‘A rock for good health be
A rock for good life be
A rock for divine blessings be’
Amen
Even before she could read my note
I was riding away on my stallion
Who flew faster like falcon
Down the mountain
Gang violence has hit the cities and is often in the news
In hate and anger they are schooled
We had our own gang when I was just a kid
In the days when my gang ruled
We rode together on our bicycles
Our bikes were finely tooled
And we hung out at the pool room
In the days when my gang ruled
We carried gloves and bats and baseballs
Ice from home would keep our sodas cooled
Sometimes we’d go to church together
In the days when my gang ruled
Our music had no curse words
We were wild so don’t be fooled
We smoked Lucky Strikes and greased our hair
In the days when my gang ruled
Sometimes we’d meet at the river
Our fishing lines all spooled
Just having fun together
In the days when my gang ruled
Annette and Frankie set the tone
Bikini Beach is when we drooled
Even the movies were clean and wholesome
In the days when my gang ruled
We cared about each other
For America our fire was fueled
We grew up to serve our country
In the days when my gang ruled
Chubby cream grubby against white ice
Hungry somewhat clumsy polar bear heist
Hopefully loping over to an asylum of seals
Tusked beasts bound to become tasty meals
Damp nose oscillates, catch tongue anticipates
Hook claws extend, jagging his cumbersome gait
Ungainly angle rotates blundering bear ballerina
Jaws roar frustrated, mishap sadly signals dinner
Jolly bodied, barrel stocky well insulated brood
Swivel protruding chests to avoid being food
Fear pulls polar threat away, phew! - Relax
Pack pacify, raft drifts after cold cracks
Snowy blows his nose with hankie huge paws
Lucky that chubby has arms strong as oars
Iceberg dips, whiskers twitch while wishing
Imminent swim success - in frigid fishing
8th March 2023
Written for Contest: Cracked
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
69th birthday. Neighbors bring cake and sing.
I've been having trouble remembering things.
One night driving home I get lost a block away.
People I know by name I greet with Hey, You.
I don't worry, I blame wine. It's not dementia.
Mom was afflicted. I have her hammer toes too.
When memory fails I take a trip through the alphabet.
Like fishing I sometimes catch something, remembering.
Other times I forget what I know, just beyond reach.
It's a watercolor left overnight in the heavy rain.