A Poem for all the FF poets out there

[Migs]

Enjoy:

The Bait
Poem lyrics of The Bait by John Donne.

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

There will the river whispering run
Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun;
And there the 'enamour'd fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth,
By sun or moon, thou dark'nest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net.

Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest;
Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies,
Bewitch poor fishes' wand'ring eyes.

For thee, thou need'st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait:
That fish, that is not catch'd thereby,
Alas, is wiser far than I.

[dudley]

There once was a girl from Nantucket...

No wait..

I love the babbling brook, the placid lake,
Where spotted trout and pike their pastimes take;
I love the rocky shore, the rushing stream,
Where lordly salmon leap, in sunlight gleam;
The stately river, the expansive bay,
Where striped basse and silver squeteague play;
The ocean's distant roar, the bounding wave,
Where monsters daily bask and dolphins lave;
These! these! I love, and oft away from home
Truant I stray, tempted by them to roam;
These! these! I love, and never can forsake,
For all the gold that trade or toil can make.

[Gnu Bee Flyer]

Nice ... now what about the nantucket one you forgot to finish .

[Gnu Bee Flyer]

Inspired by Migs and although I have no appreciable talent I offer the following that may or may not get me in trouble .

Keepyst Thynne Baakast Upeth

Out a fishing the fisherman went
To catch a salmon was his bent .
He cast it low he cast it high
He nearly almost hooked his eye

His cast went back twas far too low
He yanked it forward , it came too slow
The tippet tangled the fly got flung
You snapped that one off ,
his partner sung

With face so red you could read by it
upon a log our boy did sit
Our trepid angler full of woe
Tied on another this time just so

With JC?s motto in his mind
He cast it back , fair high he lined
The cast went back the loop was tight
This time there wasn?t too much might
The line it sang it snaked right out
It gave our hero pause to shout
The line shot out and lightly lit .
In front of fish , He got a hit !

They Dined on trout that happy night
As He thought upon his former plight
Of tortured casts and snarls from hell
He?d finally learned from Sir Castwell
If you would have some fish for suppith
You?d better learn
Keepyst Thynne Baakast Upeth

by Gnu Bee Flyer

With apologies to JC for stealing your motto
and also for writing this lousy poem .
Suppith = the only thing I could think to rhyme with uppith .


[This message has been edited by Gnu Bee Flyer (edited 13 November 2005).]

GnuBee;
I think you deserve an "A" for effort. And a "B" for humor. But don't quit your day job!!

------------------
I feel more like I do now than I did when I got here!

Cactus AKA "Lucky Dog (Pirate Name)"

[papafsh]

A Change Of Plan
By Papafsh

As the day slips onto evening,wispy clouds like grasping fingers, drag across the glowing sky, a weather change is coming and we're taken by surprise. The once soft balmy breezes now are chased away to hide, by a cold and harsh wind blowing down the mountain from on high.

We've come to fish these waters, with anticipation high, for the noble wary swimmers that beneath the surface lie. Rods of cane and hooks with feathers are the tackle we will try, and we see the 'morrow clearly, in our thoughts as though by eye.

Made our camp along the river on the high ground where it's dry, under over-arching branches of the Hemlock, Fir, and Pine.

Stillness now has seemed to settle on the creatures of the glen, but the wind is growing stronger and a storm moves ever nearer giving each of us a chill, it is cold and getting colder, now the rain begins to spill.

First a spit and then a splatter as the drops fall from on high, then a fearful clap of lightening sears the dark and brooding sky, as we watched with dread and waited, our campfire now has died.

Oh! the hearts of all men waver in the power of natures might, their hopes and dreams suspended on such an awful night. No longer do we ponder on pleasantries ahead, the perfect cast, the dragfree drift, the trout we thought to play, no our needs are now much simpler, let us live is all we pray!

The lightening flashed, the thunder rolled and trees began to fall, and as they slammed into the earth it shook us one and all. How long it seemed 'fore the black of night began to turn to gray, as the dawning oh so sweetly comes, we greet another day!

Once light enough we venture out, from 'neath a soggy battered tent, to see the work of nature's wrath through which we've just been spent, and marvel at the the forces so destructively arrayed.

We pack our gear, 'least what is left and head out on our way, but take this vow between us, we'll return again......someday?

LB

[This message has been edited by papafsh (edited 12 November 2005).]

[Grn Mt Man]

LONGINGS

One longs to find the perfect stroke, that takes one's line back looped and tight, so, verily, lands the fly upon, yon placid waters, straight and strong.

When placed thou lightly, on waters still, where rises dimple shaded nook, a subtle take, then backing shown, as jaw is pierced by sharpened hook.

Then come to hand, silver-sided jewel, with colors red, and spotted skin, how marvelous is creation shown, torpedo body powered by fin.

Released, set free to rocky run, enjoined once more to tease the fisher, one cannot match magic moments there, upon the ever flowing river.