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Open Poetry #39

Fishing

Grinch
Member Elite

since 2005-12-31

Posts 2929
Whoville

0 posted 2006-10-16 02:22 PM

Break my fingers
and the pen
which banks sad tiddlers
on the page.
That feeble minds
would take as art,
take me to task.
Stack your pyres
flame a match
on rough-hewn text.
So others may
dowse lessons
in the ash.

When boatmen twirled
and barges slew
their titan waves
through liquid veins
a young boy held a stick
with twine attached.
He fished
where leeches feared to sup
where no fish swam.
The boy is grown,
the fish my words,
read empty nets

I cannot claim
to know the loss
of that which never
graced my reel.
Break my fingers
and this pen
that forces me
to cast my lines
beside real fishermen
who land their catch.
Throw this one back
again.

serenity blaze
Member Empyrean

since 2000-02-02

Posts 27738

1 posted 2006-10-16 03:08 PM

:I cannot claim
to know the loss
of that which never
graced my reel."

If the water's muddy, try chartreuse.

If you're fishing 'round here, though, you seldom lose with shrimp as live bait.

Even if don't catch fish, you can always go home and stir fry a supper.