Does anybody write poems about fishing let’s hear some. Hears mine
Fishing is fun fishing is great when it comes to fishing i just can’t wait.
I got my gear i got my bait when it comes to fishing i’m never late.
When the sun comes up and when the sun goes down everybody knows where i can be found.
My wife knows best when i’m late she just says he at the lake and belive me it’s no mistake.
Because she knows that’s the life of a fisherman.
By Kim Burnett (AKA) Jiggin
'Twas the night before opening
and all down the river,
No one was sleeping
nerves were a’quiver.
The rods were all strung
and the flies were all tied,
But sleep wasn’t coming
stomachs churning inside.
When all of a sudden
out in the glade,
Whispers were heard
old friendships replayed.
At first I thought
that it couldn’t be true,
Was it Lee & Ernie
and Lefty Kreh too?
I peered out the window through
the moonlight’s bright gleam,
It was them all right
at the edge of the stream.
SSchweibert, of course,
regaled Lefty and Lee
With gourmet meal tales
and of course, a High Tea.
He told stories of princes
and Salmon and such,
And how fine wines and
exotic cheeses added so much.
Lee, as usual, didn’t do much talking
he just let his fingers do the walking.
He tied tiny flies that were really quite nice
and he did it as usual wihout using a vise.
And while these two legends
were doing their "thing:,
Lefty was busy making his fly line go “zinng”.
He cast with the whole rod
and then just the tip,
His loops were so tight
that the fly line would just rip.
And while he was keepinig
that fly line a’smokin’
He kept up a patter
of stories and jokin’
Finally, in the fading moonlight’s bright beam,
The trio discussed how to conquer the stream.
As I was about to discover their scheme
I suddenly awoke, "cuz it was all just a dream…
SweetStreamS
Rich Trimble
I know far better than to “get involved” with poetry, but there was this fellow over towards Ireland who took a flier or two in that direction. He seemed to have done some good at it, too. I think his name was Yeats…
Song of the Wandering Angus
by William Butler Yeats
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I turned to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
Very nice good to have poets around.
There is NOT any way I am going to try… JUST SIT BACK AND ENJOY!!!
flitting caddisfly
the bull trout rises to greet
the sun follows
a 12 lb walleye,
father’s spring triumph
snow on boat-seat
I’m on my way down to the river,
Have to poo so bad I quiver,
shouldn’t have eaten those old taters,
holy cow I just messed my waders.
These are gems. More, more!
There was a fellow named nameed Mike
who was quite hard to dislike
he taught Tori to cast
they both had a blast
now he’s outfished by the tyke
St Paul was confused
everything in his box he had used
Sam made a fly
Paul gave it a try
all the fish were enthused
There was fellow named Hise
who laid out a cast so nice
The fish took a look
but he spotted the hook
Sorry Jack-- no dice
Missed strikes rarely occur when I am present.
That is to say when I have gotten out of my head, and fully committed my attention outside … to the fly.
The discipline is to remain alert,
especially during long, fishless periods.
Not rehashing the past,
nor hallucinating the future.
Knowing neither hunger nor fatigue.
Losing track of time.
Body and mind in the same place, at the same moment.
A rare circumstance.
Flowing water.
Floating fly.
Bliss.
Flash of silver
Gasp of breath
Lift the rod
Fulfill my quest.
There once was a man from…uh, nevermind.
yukan na pairotto nihon (no)
me no hokori soshite kanashimi
sakuranbo hana moyasu