Poetry Blogs (fishing)
O' if you could see the Devil's grin, would you trespass on his mortal sea?
Thy is no sanctuary to those perils, bound phlegmatic men;
whose hands labour in enemy boundaries.
O' trawler men, who art thou unite in brethren, fight incoming battles; torrential weather.
Many address the danger, huddled together; trying to keep warm
but we know death is no friend and is always hungry for more.
Friday 10th July 2020 7:09 pm
He'd killed mountain lions and elks
Survived years of snow and ice in the hills
Made a living by trapping and fishing
Yet somehow managed to pay his bills
He died in his bed like a sister of mercy
As we all do, he softly ran out of breath
We'd all imagined him facing a violent end
Some gruesome and horrible death
Down from the mountains he came one spring
Sunday 19th April 2020 1:15 pm
Let there be water.
Let it be called pond.
Let trunk and branch and leaf arise around it,
Walling the sky’s mirror against too much.
Let small plump birds paddle its silk surface,
Their calls echoing ancient creation.
Let stiff winged things fly and dart about
Above stiff legged things that skim
A criss cross the water’s top.
And let beneath flash silver through...
Saturday 20th July 2019 3:56 pm
In and out the sea doth sway
Erasing mans death and decay.
An old man's struggle,
No net, no sail. Only a flag
of permanent defeat.
Great fish swimming around and around,
the reel running, a screaming sound.
A Marlin swims, the ultimate catch,
only days to see if luck they will have.
The men struggle and pray away,
A massive catch needed to save the day.
Tuesday 31st July 2018 12:09 am
The lake is still in the evening sun
A little breeze make the longer grass sway on the bank
and a ripple disturb the surface:
A mayfly lands
A swallow drinks and is gone before I see
With a rattle, a duck takes off from behind the island
Then it is still again
Beneath the reflections are fish
Sometimes - but not yet tonight -
A circle of ripples flows out from a rise
Monday 15th January 2018 3:40 pm
Lagoon and aqua English blue.
Midget white horses roll with silver eyes.
Their hooves curling forward then crash,
as the surf storms in yards behind.
Tremors invade the sandbanks and gullies,
as the slack creeps in before.
This is the world of the sea perch.
The bass. Striking hard and hitting fast.
Armoured in silver and streaking shine,
as he terrorises the r...
Thursday 12th November 2015 9:26 pm