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It takes a fair amount of confidence
and a good-sized ego,
To drop the line and coolly walk away,
Certain that she will take the bait...
I refuse to take the bait, sir.
Poetic T Sep 5
She ad this hobby fishing with
    A pole.
      No worms wanted

Dats a fact.

I played it cool rod in da pond,
  That became a pool.

Those
  Waves splashing out.
     Rod didn't catch nything..

But the fish were swimming
    Deep now.  

And we just smiled,
       Who need bait

When the rod catches

    Her every time.
annh Apr 18
Spin,
Mister
Fisherman,
Throw me a line;
A fluttering lure of burnished vowel chimes

Bait, braid and bailor - snap, swivel and fly;
Dub well your quill,
Hook me low,
Run me
High

‘The reality, however, is that fishing is about the closest you can get to physically experiencing poetry. It is a pursuit based on contemplation and solitude that involves an appreciation of the elements; it is a game of chance, hope, escapism; a step into the murky waters of the unknown. There is little difference between the angler setting forth on a misty dawn and the poet staring at the blank page. Both are hoping for greatness, but will settle for a brief silvery flash of the transcendental brilliance that lies beneath the surface.‘
- Ben Myers

Fishing parlance is a language as complex and arcane as the sport itself. What a happy coincidence to discover that a ‘quill’ in angler-speak refers to a float (or bobber). How ‘bout that? ;)
solfang Apr 1
a big catch
that is worth it;
that's what you once said
when you attempted
to reel me in

yet I see there's
no longer a bait at
the end of your hook;
perhaps an easy catch
just wasn't thrilling
enough for you
suitors aplenty, yet they seem to disappear the moment I return their affection.
Jenish Mar 28
dragged to his ruin
ravening fish came to eat -
floating bait of meat.
EM Lisard Mar 2
You were bait.
I took it.
You tasted sweet but I chased the bitterness to your lips in hopes things would work out for the better.
You were bait.
I took it.
Jim Kirk Feb 23
Elizabeth And Josie

Her weeping tears flow over her eyes,

Only because her love surpassed her hold,
I felt passionate love myself, but you are mere lies,

DIVINE LOVE!,, You betrayed our hearts, the fiendish lies you told,,
 

My beloved, see flesh and blood, truth not illusions,

I do know the truth, and all my passion cries for her, another,

She a picture, not Love, to be loved, YOU!  created this conclusion,

She cried our love IS divine, we DO complete the other.
 
I love her more
🧍🏻‍♀️
Shorter rewriting of earlier poem of mine.
Ken Pepiton Feb 1
the idea that this is as

the webs towing spiders in the winds, winding
listfully
on circuits long ago distorted with mountains

and canyons,
effecting whorls and currents forcing a way around a mountain
for the mists that once watered the flatter feeling
vessel we were alive upon, in books

spaceship earth one. I in roman tongue,

but nothing lasts forever,
everything else changes,

constantly,

be still.
be

---
realms with in reasons,

uni-verse-ity-ifity agregaton setting liquified stone,
some

how (wise) wegsheid sehen Sie veer left

OOPs loops, left from when this was a decide point.

FYI, it was my idea to go through the wall,

I was the one who went through,
not you,

I came out the front door, not you,

but you didn't run, you were my friend,

in this projection of a decider point, we
passed

adaptively, as if augmented with a

allyes promise, ala all ye, all ye, outs in free... message from base

aye, I A-ok a intuitive influencee feeling tugging,

not pushing, gentle pull, slow
and steady

spider woman, grace for grace. let flow this thread
in ever

let it tangle with the wind,
we hold in our fists,

and the thief looses owning his good for use, the joker lifts off,

with a laugh, doing good,
like medicine,
loosed when one hand claps,

without the other knowing,
science-wise.
A page pondered while examining my life fifty years after the key decision
Bardo Dec 2019
I used bait my hooks with juicy bits,
  morsels sweet and tender
And throw my line out then, into the
  deep dark depths
Some human voice/heart to capture
Some wild Sea horse, some Mermaid
  sweet
Neptune King or marauding Queen of
  the Deep
Some words from some other, some
  nuggets of comfort
That might help light up my drear
  and wintry life
Bring some warmth into this intense
  cold I felt
And remind me that I too, was still
  human;
Like a ******* spider I'd mope
  about
And scan my nets impatiently
Waiting for that telltale tug, that
  lovely sign
That someone at last, had bit upon a
  bait of mine,
Then like a mischievous elf I'd dance
  about
And clap my hands in glee
Marvelling at my cleverness, at my
  great ingenuity
I'd quickly gather in my nets - my line
Anxious to know what strange fish
  my handiwork did deliver
I'd haul them back to my dark cave -
  my cavern
There to ruminate over and further -
  further examine.

Then one day there came from out of
  the depths,
From out of that dark pool so
  mysterious
A voice so pure and sweet, like that of
  an Angel
A young girl's voice, she liked
  something I wrote
And desired very much to tell me so
She spoke at length about her own life
She talked not of pain or of Life's cruel
  game
But of hopes she had and dreams, and
  pretty flowery things,
I pitied her and the words she wrote
For I knew this world and knew what
 it was likely to do to her & her dreams
As it had once done to me and mine
(I bared my teeth at this world, it's lies
  and deceit),
But there was something about her, That girl and those words she wrote
They stayed with me long and I'd
  come back to view them often
To read them was almost to enter into
  another world
A world of innocence and light
  undimmed by darker things,
(To walk again in Eden's fields)
She touched something in me,
  something old...something deep
She reminded me... yes, she reminded
  me of my own young self all those
     years ago
A darling child with sparkling eyes, a
  hearty laugh and an impish smile
"Wherever did you go Little One ?" I
  asked myself,
"How cold and empty have been my
  days...Why did you leave me ?"
She haunted me, this girl and those
  words she wrote
I wondered what she must look like,
  with flowing hair & flowing dresses
So I went down to the dark pool and I
  looked right in
But nothing could I see, only my own
  reflection staring back at me
How old and gnarled I had become,
  like a wizened old tree,
"I couldn't protect you Little One, this
world it overwhelmed, it engulfed me
I didn't know which way to turn
How alone and how afraid I was....
You deserved better, so much better
A world of love and magic and beauty
Not this cold, grim and forbidding
  place
Any child would recoil in horror at
  such a sight as this",
I resolved there and then..I resolved to
Try and find him again if find him I
  could
Buried beneath that morass of years,
Many of which had been bad or ill.

                            2

Revisiting my old home place, little
  village by the sea
I wandered again those olden streets
  of my youth,
But things they had changed, it was
  not as it had been
And every change was like a pain
  inside, eating into me
My old home, it had been torn down,
  only a pile of rubble remained,
Other old landmarks I had known had
  now vanished and were gone
The faces too, were all different now
They looked at me as you would a
  stranger
Their suspicious curious eyes
following me wherever I went,
I felt like a man strangely out of sync
  with Time
A fool I felt walking that ghostly shore
Searching for a Summertime long ago,
In truth I couldn't wait to get out of
  there, to get back home.

I took to painting pictures instead,
pictures of the memories that were in
   my head
On sheets of blank paper I built again
  my old homestead
Every room, every item, every colour
  lovingly restored
Just as I remembered them
And outside, the garden too and the
  sea shore,
The rocks, the beach & the tide
And the village, my village! as I had
  known it as a boy.

And I'd close my eyes then, and using
my imagination, put myself back there
Walking again those same lonely
  rooms,
Walking the sea shore & village streets
Haunting them like a ghost;
And I'd call out your name, call out
  like a banshee in the wind
That you might come back to me... one
  more time...

Old memories would return, things I'd long forgotten, some good, others not
  so good
Bits of old feelings too, would return,
  but only for fleeting moments
The flotsam & jetsam of the past,
The ruins of who I used to be,
Sometimes, with eyes closed, my head
  would drop
And I'd slip off and lose myself in
  these strange dreamlike reveries
As I'd come to call them
And for a moment I'd find myself back
  there, back in my old village or so it
    seemed
Old faces from the past would
reappear again,
Their fresh & youthful faces talking
excitedly with childhood wonder and
  abandonment
I didn't know if they could see me or
  not
Even so, I'd cover my face not wanting
  them to see what I had become.
They didn't seem to know I was there.

                             3

And so it went on, each day I'd walk
  and do my rounds
Walking around my ghostly Kingdom
Trying to keep it alive,
Like a miner digging, seeking new
memories, old feelings, little slivers of
  gold,
Sometimes I'd feel disconsolate & feel
  like giving up
But I kept on.... I kept on
Till one day, while slumped in my
  chair, with eyes closed
Lost again in one of those strange
  dreamlike reveries
I dreamt that I was returning home
  after another fruitless search
Weary and dejected
But then, going inside, much to my
  great surprise
There! Seated on the sitting room
  carpet
A child! A little child!! A little child at
  play
Immersed in some game of his
Gently rocking backwards and
  forwards
Humming to himself some tune,
With eyes so bright and a strange
  radiance about his face
All under a big mop of black hair;
As I watched him from the doorway, I
  wondered to myself
"Was this... was this I... was this me"
And in all the time I watched him
Never once did he look up, so
engrossed did he seem in his game:
And in my own mind, the only thoughts I had were of a much darker
  kind
"Now that we had the little wretch, we should grab him, put him to work for
  us
Use him, control him for our own
  ends,
He must have a treasure hidden some
  place......"
In those moments I knew... I knew
  somehow
I knew there was no way back for me,
I turned away and left him there,
I went outside, out the back into the
  garden
The garden where once as children we
  had played and dreamt of being
    heroes one day -
And suddenly - suddenly all these
  memories came flooding back to me
Memories of the few kindnesses I'd
  ever known in this life
A Mother's sweet soft words of love
  and reassurance
An old girlfriend's fond kiss and
  smiling face
A friend's encouraging words,
And suddenly these great big tears
  welled up in my eyes
And these great sobs came from
  within me
I was overcome, I crumpled and fell to
  my knees
And buried my head in my hands, and
  wept,
But then suddenly, in the midst of all
  this grief and pain
A hand touched me, a little, a tiny
  hand
I looked up, it was the little child from
  the room
But he wasn't alone this time, he had
  two others with him
They stood a little way back behind
  him,
One, another boy, had his finger to his
  mouth
Looking at me as if in profound
  puzzlement at my predicament
The other, a young girl, was looking
  over at him giggling
She had her hair cut into a little black
  bob at the front, like a little pixie,
Such a delicious sound I thought, the
  carefree laughter of a child
I'd forgotten what it sounded like
It'd been so long since I heard
  someone laugh that way,
It was as if the world she came from
was a place that inspired only great
   mirth and joy
As if that was all that existed there-
And then the child, he spoke to me (in
  a little voice and with some concern)
"Why do you cry ? Come and see
  where we live
Come and play with us awhile".
He held out his hand and smiled, a
  kindly smile
Looking down at my hand, I wasn't
  sure
But he reached forward and took mine
  anyway
He led me away, the others following
  too,
I felt strangely moved, forgot my tears
  and my sorrow
I felt a strange freedom, like a great
  weight had been lifted
Like all before that moment had been
  erased
As if my own life had been nothing
  more than a dream,
I felt as if I'd been accepted, and that I
  belonged again
I felt almost like...like I'd come home.
This was written a few years ago after my Mom had died. A lonely man puts his writings onto a site fishing for compliments, for some contact with others. A young girl answers him & reminds him of a part of himself he's lost. He goes in search of this lost part trying to become whole again. Reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast. A song of Hope for Christmas and the New Year.
Alek Mielnikow Dec 2019
the sheep keep
from freezing by 
huddling near 
the hollow trees 

the trees so hollow 
they howl at the moon 
as wind passes through

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
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