Short Waders Poems

Listen to poem:

waders flaunt in flock
loosely lingering, gossips --
with squawks and squabbles...

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A
twitter
of waders
amidst tidal
wrack
haunts
the strand-
a turnstone
uncovers a
shrimp...

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Quahog burrows deep in mud …
By bubbles it’s betrayed … 

“We’re gonna have a clam-bake!
Bring your waders and a spade!”




A quahog is a large and very tasty type of clam, native to the New England coastline.
The name will be familiar to all fans of "Family Guy" ......

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If I drink any more coffee I will float away
I will travel down the river next to Chesapeake Bay
Can you bring me my waders somewhere along the way?
I would like to catch some bass before the end of the day
I will be the old lady hollering “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
I promise I will do you a solid some other day.
Uh-oh. Too much coffee. I simply can’t stay….....

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seat under sky’s dome
to view sea’s exhibitions˜
strollers’ comfort zone

seawall’s curved pathway
lovers hold hands, hugs and kiss ˜
their romantic lane

calm water and sky
waves smooch shores and coastal lines˜
waders’ sounds applause

while walking at shore
pleasant coastal breeze will cool˜
therapy for all

stroll at baywalk nights or days
 leisure comes in many ways

May 3, 2023     10.11pm ...

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At the foot of the Elbow,
just above the Bow,
an angler drowned
his feet caught 
in a shopping cart
split-cane rod still 
firmly in his grasp.

On the Grand
just below the Gorge,
another died 
opening weekend,
high water
few details are known.

At the Whirlpool
below Niagara Falls
bodies surface
sporadically 
but few are anglers.

When I go, I hope 
it’s in my waders 
but miles of rivers 
remain before 
my rods pass
to you....

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Zeal for raising a hand in class I had
   I deemed it as a form of working hard 
Raising a hand in class I was a working ant.
In raising a hand I raised my ante 
    Nonetheless, I lost my wear
Now I wear waders as I waddle with wade in my waif of zeal.
   Now in class, I hear the sound of silence as I sit in calmness.
My heart is seen weeping for my dead hands in my conscience.
   Come zeal hand like rain falling in heavy torrents 
Come zeal hand...

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One day I took to fishing,
far out beyond the shore,
wearing my father's waders,
the ones I always adored.

Back when I was little,
and the fish seemed much bigger,
I would watch my father's casting,
his hook always landing in the middle.

When all the fish came biting,
and my father would give a yell,
the water would call awake,
the biggest of fish tales.

All my memories of him,
are casted to way above,
and everytime I wear his waders,
he'll know I'm sending love....

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Our feet sank in the sand as we
Went walking through the dunes.
I haven't hiked on land like that
In many many moons.

Then suddenly we turned a bend
And there within our reach
Was something most surprising -
An amazing empty beach!

The waves were gentle and the water
Froze the few brave waders.
Remoteness kept it free of
Hordes of tourist-type invaders.

While heading back (reluctantly)
I found my souvenir -
Some tiny brightly-circled shells,
To keep the magic near....

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