Short Bobber Poems

water ripples near 
bobber bounces in water
still no stinkin fish...

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that is the biggest fish
i ever caught on a cast and a wish
bobber dipped out of sight
fish put up quite a fight
but still ended up on my dish...

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The bobber dips,
The fishing pole whips,
The fish jerks,
The man works,
The thin line,
Carefully this time.

The fish splashes,
The man thrashes,
The fish flies,
The man sighs,
The line breaks,
And an exit the fish makes....

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there's only one way
straight down is all you control
so use a bobber

line through a swivel
with sinkers and lucks good bait
play out line and wait

tick tick heavy weight
a slow to reel in quick see
that breaks line and leaves


stan sand...

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Sun shinning cool breeze river water.
Lake glass underneath shaded trees swimming otter.

Wondering if the fish is ever to going bite.
Line in water with a non floating bobber gripping just right.

Bait on tight waiting impatiently. 
Wishing for a strike from the greatest of Kings.

Soon will be a battle between me and fish.
Experiences will tell when I eat that salmon dish....

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I the fisherman wait patiently by
For patience I developed 
Back when I cried
My stalking is simplistic 
I have what they like
I only spring into action 
When the bobber sinks from sight
My poll bends
The fight is on
I the fisherman smile at the fun
A whooper
Perhaps a whale
Tis a grand endeavor
And a grander tale I will tell
Oh sweet patience 
What golden rewards in-store for me
As I the fisherman wait so patiently...

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with doser in hand
walking the land
scape waiting
for a sign
that my

rod may tug
like a fishing
line letting
the bobber
sign

what i've tried
to find i've 
found 
under
this

mound that
is damp to
touch and
smells of
musk

surely the
search of
what i
came
to

find is now
within my
grasp or
at least
a lick

fluid flowing
as my tongue
digs deeper
into what
this is

i simply
end with
a french
kiss...

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When summer's in the meadow
and the bluebird's on the wing,
I love the simple pleasures
that a country morn can bring.
Then all the world's a cane pole
with a bobber and a line,
the catfish are a jumpin'
and all I have is time.

My back against a willow tree
the clouds float softly by,
the wind is gentle on the pond
as it mirrors the summer sky.
With bated breath and baited hook
I love the joy it brings
when summer's in the meadow
and the bluebird's on the wing....

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