Short Bluegill Poems

I feel it tugging
Hanging on - It must be huge!
Bluegill, smiles, grandpa

Haiku - For Sara Kendrick's "A Pleasant Childhood Memory" Contest...

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insects one two and three
a dietary substance for a megabat, me.
slurp slurp slurp
yum yum yum!
one thousand mosquitoes in my tummy tum tum

Watch out catfish, bass and bluegill. 
Dive down quickly, and be really still. 
My cousin bulldog bat is on the hunt.
He will snatch fish out of the lake.
Hide yourself for goodness sake!...

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rock to rock
       small sips

                  red winged blackbird takes

leaning towards the sun, 
Iris protects....

seed to seed
      small sips

                  bluegill takes

below the surface,
shadows protect....

bar to bar
      small sips
                  humans take

battered and bruised,
memories protect.......

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choppy and cold river, white foam is gathering as if it has been in a blender
there is no sound this morning, no bird speak, no crickets, it is silent
I dipped my hand into the water, it was freezing like a frozen halibut.
A peanut butter cup made its way to my mouth, I tasted salt and chocolate
I could smell fish this morning, a dead bass or bluegill, most probably....

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My little girl, you are a jolly fisherman
Catching those fish as only you can
With your bamboo pole and tiny hook
That bluegill your worm for food mistook
Now with your heart bigger than that
You throw it back in with a big ol’ splat!

SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written August 20, 2022
Submitted to “The Jolly Fisherman” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward...

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Awakened by the Whip-Poor-Will
Then the cooing of the gray Dove
Spring's sun shining _call of Bluegill
The Oak doesn't call though my precious Love

His love's infallibility
Lift's me in times of trouble and strife
Through all predictability
Of His love like tunes of fife

His great reliability
Lifts me in all of life's great storms
For it's sustainability
Keeps my awesome spiritual being warm...

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Miss Maddie Muskrat mastered Missouri mud
Reveling and rolling in it in a joyful way
Catfish groused that she was mucking up the river
Bass, bluegill and crappie told catfish off

Muskrat makes us happy with her positive attitude
Catfish had never thought about that side of it
He adjusted his attitude and began enjoying her mud antics
They became happy friends after that, thanks to this lecture...

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Oh, amazing bluegill mushroom hunting gnome,
Sauntering through coral’s lifeblood, all on his own
Easing his way into the den of the fishmongers’ bit
Riding a bluegill as if his pirate lifestyle depends on it
And maybe it does, his ocean seaworthy life anyway
He slides through life merrily, hauling kelp out of his way
We watch him glide through dangerous layers of the deep
He rides  a fish of beauty and strength, a steed to keep....

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terrifying synopsis,
pink and purple rhinoceros,
bluegill and Gail winds...

blowing

wild winds and rains saturate the home panes

Weathered Breakfast

invisible questions,
plural and singular,
Raisin Brand™ cereal

eaten

there is a storm brewing in the jungle
and all the little monkey's are eating banana's with breakfast


Weathered Breakfast



2/5/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©...

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the fishing pole is ready
my victims are as good as in my mouth
her little mind was heady
on her way, she turned down south

the birdies chirped throughout the dale
April approaching made March less grim.
Night crawlers were singing in their pail
Not knowing what was in store for them.

the fishing pole was plunked into the water.
Bass and bluegill fought over the worms.
A terrific day for a fisherman’s daughter.
Enough lunch for six pachyderms.
...

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Fishing at Lake Red Haw.
I pulled in a long muddy man’s size 11 wader.
It took me eighty-three minutes.
I thought it was going to be a whale.

There was a lot of laughing.
My dad and uncle thought it was
The funniest thing all summer long.
Fish were biting everyone else’s bait hooks.

My sister got her teeny tiny stupid bass 
Mounted on a plaque.
My brother got a bluegill mounted.
I insisted on keeping the wader.
That was fifty-seven years ago.
I may still mount it....

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Dad was a fisherman, he loved to fish.
But sadly, last year in July he perished.
He caught different kinds of fish, including catfish and bluegill.
Dad was a fisherman, he loved his rod and reels.

Sometimes he liked to fish with his brother.
Stanley and my dad cared about each other.
Dad bought a boat and used it sometimes when he went fishing.
Dad was a fisherman, he found it to be very interesting.

[Dedicated to Charles F. Johnson (1947-2013) who died on July 13, 2013.]...

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