Long Walleye Poems
Long Walleye Poems. Below are the most popular long Walleye by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Walleye poems by poem length and keyword.
Sometimes late at night, I think of where they all went.
For those left behind, my thoughts are now sent.
Are the streets paved with gold, do they sparkle and shine?
Can you still get a steak dinner, and a nice glass of wine?
Is the music country and western, do they have rock n roll?
Maybe it just depends on each heart and soul.
Will I get to go fishing, for some walleye or maybe trout?
I’m really looking forward to seeing what that life’s all about.
Will everyone just pray in white robes where they stand?
Maybe there’ll be a piano, and a good old jazz band.
Since we’re made in his image, I wonder if heaven will be fun.
I guess we’ll find out when it’s all said and done.
For now, I’ll be thankful, for each and every breath.
I’ll enjoy every sunset, right up to my own death.
I will do my very best to honor God and be a good gent.
Sometimes late at night, I think of where they all went.
Tomorrow I’m eating fries, Marion,
It gives me full of pep,
Yellows, walleye, salty,
I will eat hot fries.
Tomorrow I’m eating fries, Marion,
Belgians, sweet flamingos,
Walloon girls, redheaded girls,
Out of the oven, all hot.
Eating fries is not stupid
English, golden, or Norwegian,
The fries it gives a hell of a peach
Tomorrow, Marion, give me the fries.
Demain, je mange des frites, Marion,
Ça me donne voyons, une sacrée frite,
Des jaunes, des dorées, des salées,
Je mangerai des frites chaudes, moi.
Demain, je mange des frites, Marion,
Des belges, des flamandes douces,
Des wallonnes, des filles rousses,
Sorties du four, toutes chaudes.
Manger des frites, ce n’est pas bête
Anglaises, dorées, ou norvégiennes,
Les frites ça donne une sacrée pêche
Demain, Marion, tu me donnes la frite.
A snowman knocking on my window pane,
his breath puffing white in the chilly frigid air.
Five feet tall, three large snowballs of different sizes,
with the biggest at the bottom and the smallest for his head.
A carrot for his nose, coal for his eyes and mouth,
and a corncob pipe with a great big smile.
Tree branches for his arms
with an old, crooked, large black top hat on his head
and a red scarf around its neck.
Tap, Tap, Tap,
“Would you come out and play,
its cold and no one’s out.
Would you come out and play.”
With half frozen tears trickling down his white face, he said.
“I can show you a land of enchantment that is amazingly fun.
We can go to a frozen lake where we can put on our skates
and skate around the frozen ice and Arabesque or do a Twizzle.
Or make a hole in the ice and go ice-fishing with a strong branch,
string, and safety-pin and catch yellow perch or walleye.
When we’re all done,
we can ride a sled with bells and a team of Santa Clause’s reindeer
fly around the shimmering snow covered rooftops
and see what Jack Frost has done to this magical wonderland.”
Tap,Tap,Tap,
“Would you come out and play.”
Tisn't Fittin'
(Children's song music & lyrics by Joan Donnelly Ellis 1992)
Tisn't fittin for a kitten to wear a mitten
Tisn't fitten for a spider to terrify
Tisn't fittin for a doggy to wear cowboy boots
But it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Tisn't fittin for a turtle to use chop sticks
No sir, not even if he is Chinese, still tisn't fittin
Tisn't fittin for a worm to hook a walleye
Tisn't fittin for a bull frog to moo like a cow
But it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Tisn't fittin for grasshopper to play leap frog
Tisn't fittin for a pirate to shanghai
Tisn't fittin for a bunny to play hopscotch
No sir, not even if she's a champion hopper, still tisn't fittin
But it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Tisn't fittin for giraffe to tetter-totter
Tisn't fittin to lasso a butterfly
Tisn't fittin for a Stallion to play horseshoes
But it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Yes, it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Yes, it's OK for a Daddy to cry
Uncle Pete agrees to take his great grand-nephew fishing to Lake Mare.
I don’t have a pole, Larry says. No prob, says Pete. We can share.
I’ll make my own rod, the nine-year-old says, and grabs a twig of a stick.
Uncle Pete is decked out in expensive duds; his fishing tackle box is thick.
Look! I caught one! Larry yells! Flinging a giant bass out of the lake.
This startles Pete who thinks “this must have been a little mistake.
But Larry keeps flinging catfish, walleye and groupie out of the water.
His plain inexpensive fishing rod just gets hotter and hotter.
Uncle Pete is sitting on a rock, staring at frogs on rocks.
Thinking he should have worn his lucky crocks!
Larry offers to trade places, so Uncle Pete will have a chance.
But Pete didn’t have luck there either and did the “poor me” dance.
Not sure what it is
about this land
that grabs you
but I was grabbed
long ago.
Trip ends today,
last night I stayed up late,
sipping remaining whisky
as the red sun set
neath hill's dark shoulders.
Crisp morning
up before six
lake like glass
rustle up the fire
and make coffee.
Rest of camp
sound asleep
so I solo
cast the back bay
release a hammer handle
then troll the north shore
into a freshening wind
nothing.
Move out
to deeper water
perhaps a morning walleye
but the wind’s up,
and the sparkling sun
puts fish down
still nothing.
End of lake
head back
cast the shoreline
snag a bush
retrieve the lure
test line – it snaps.
Retie, change lures,
Tom got a good fish
in these narrows
but today
nothing.
Ignore my watch,
change to a deeper lure
last point, a satisfying tug
good pike – strong fish
open water, use net
she’s mine.
Paddle back to camp
with fresh fillets for home
and memories
of when the lake
and I were one.
I cannot lie, I’m not that spry
still angling is my game
but never had luck with walleye
pickerel by Ontario's name.
We're windbound on Wasaksina
waiting for the west wind to wane
We're windbound on Wasaksina
with walleye all to blame.
Wasaksina Lake up Temagami way
has a wicked western fetch
there's trout, pike and bass, but hey
was walleye we came to ketch.
We're windbound on Wasaksina
waiting for the west wind to wane
We're windbound on Wasaksina
with walleye all to blame.
Came in late fall, paddling two canoes
made camp on the big middle isle
then west wind blew and waves tall grew
we knew we were there for a while.
We're windbound on Wasaksina
waiting for the west wind to wane
We're windbound on Wasaksina
with walleye all to blame..
Grub was short so we fished the lee
in hopes of a good fish fry
jigging for a few crappie
but felt the tug of a good walleye
We're windbound on Wasaksina
waiting for the west wind to wane
We're windbound on Wasaksina
with walleye all to blame.
The fish it started a good strong run
to the screech of my fishing reel
if we lost the lee, knew we were done
tightened drag to bring fish to heel
We're windbound on Wasaksina
waiting for the west wind to wane
We're windbound on Wasaksina
with walleye all to blame.
The reel smoked, thought all was lost
but then the fish she turned
slack line, a gust, canoe was tossed
empty hook was all returned.
We're windbound on Wasaksina
waiting for the west wind to wane
We're windbound on Wasaksina
with walleye all to blame.