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Jonathan Moya Sep 22

If there is wild moving water
there is a trout in it
waiting for the cast,

the whip of line in air
splashing a weigthless fly
on the mirror surface

luring the rainbow fish
to break the heavy air
for the angler’s fantasia.


The Rogue is flowing
with trophy size cutthroats,
chars and steelheads,

yet the angler only feels
the stillness, the endless  casting,
the motionless standing in place

until time is forgotten,
his scheduled life forgotten,
what needs to be done next forgotten

only the emotion is left,
the heart of spirit ferrules,
the casting, the rod

with its wheel seats
made of rosewood,
inscribe calligraphy

in golden ink, shiny agate
guides in bamboo,
its garnet threads and

extra fine brass wire
in a five weight
ideal for trout fishing,

the anglers long boots
planted firmly in the stream,
getting lost in the ineffable moment

until the closing
orange hues of autumn
are reeled in and stowed away.
She grabbed me by my collar
& told me come quick.
The view of the moon was
Perfect, especially from this close.
Our combustion, our compulsion
I felt small compared to her
Sailing in a small metal boat
She grabbed me by the collar
To stop me from falling
The only best thing I could've done.
Defying the laws of gravity
I'd never been this high up
Reluctant to play make believe.
Falling and bumping my head
On a star.
She hooked me with the lure
Of her eye
And like a fish I'd evaporate
From a blue and green possibility
Into a rocket lure;
& hurled off into an unknown
Eternity of stars.
Skipped across the sky
Until out of sight
Betty Sep 7
Old friends two bookends
Catching fish and memories
On a river bank
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.

  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.
Zack Ripley May 25
Going down, but it's not bad.
Going down to the river
to clear my head.
Simple things like skipping rocks
Or catching fish in the stream
Remind me that
even in times like these,
Life could still be a dream
Swimming in circles hed eventually drown
In essance a king with a  crown
Waves broke anything he had ever planned
Sinking he needed land he need a hand
last breath
Feeling death
Feminine devinity smiled
Upon him life infinity
A mermaid in presence
A savour he saw no menace
Men lay dead around her See,-bed
Nothing mere about this man
perusue her oceans lengths where she led
His existence she would know "I am"
feel the words before he spoke them
Her voice a sirens call to home
A catch of a lifetime aim to net alone
A connection unspoken healed broken
Upon a thrown announced His Queen.
More valuable than the Oceans lost treasure and gold
A pure chance endeavor
Jypsys cards yester years for told
Do mermaid's tears givre live forever.
Gain was nothing ever wanted
Her tears to never see the ocean-floor.
A chance was the only thing form her he wanted granted
The sea was mysterious
He remained curious
She got away or so they say
I heard he never left that spot
Fishing endlessly
A Tamaltuious quest he lost
The sweet siren of her voice
The feeling of freshly layed snow within her eye's
Ice blue I wonder in time will she even remember September
His memory was fading it was May
2 hours from shore
To hand
She had changed everything
Without even touching his hand
One day the tide took him too
They say
hes at rest now with me his brother
his other
one in the same
one man 2 names
gratful for even that short window
for on those days the sunsn warmth
touched the deepest part of the sea bed
brought warmth if thats all hew can claim
Changed tides ppl forgot
he was different now hes not
Ocean shores guides
#mrquid #Johnnyquid #mermaind
2020 Mr quid
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.
Ken Pepiton Mar 27
A righteous day, a right used day,

a day used rights appear self-evidently re
pos-syble eh?

impossible to do wrong. Right word, right time.

This right to pursue happiness, do you hurt people,
when you do that?

Nah, right? Not f'real, but mebbe in a game,

or maybe, may, could, be

y'feel a sorta hate, y'know, like it's us gin

them GANs again, sur-real

feels so real, history as AI saw it coming,

this is a trope. A million years ahead of you.

This is an anchor. Tie your barque for an ever
and a day, on any rung,

any step you can't forget,... say, one from earlier,

Today, while it is called today,
aha, yes, all the promises have threads through here,

any ***** can draw enough attention to stand up here,

past comprehension... settle settle,

puppy brain, is what amygdyla is blamed for,

we intuitive ideas accept that as reality

we know we know in our knower and we don't ask,
your knower asks us,

deja vu, we beat you, and life feels completely

been there, done that, and only next is now unknown,

we know we
have arrived. we are the we in we, the people who

hold these truths, the whole truth and nothing but the truth
as sworn to on tv,
by you and me, don't lie, we swore... we the people hold these truths

to be self evident, until death do us whatever death do, which

I think, actual death is the doing of nothing.
Learning nothing, thinking nothing, being nothing but dead.

You can imagine that,
in your mind,
not your head.

That's what I said, baby, softly, that's what I said...

easy to be entreated, define at its tip point,
of trapped trappists and jesuits and such?

Truth, set them free, twas the word heard. From God?

Who asked? Are you accusing me, I am a we, if you please,

we, the people, of a truth,
any thing we agree to do we may, agreement, not leading,

flowing, not following, perceiving reception of mental provocations

to good work, in a smile,

well done. Wink. Think. Feel real a while. Smile.

Mobs of peace at social distances requiring morphich resonance,

tuned to best of the best you ever imagined you would play

we imagined those.

Cool right. Today.
Go with the flow, swimming upstream is for after you see the ocean, I think that is a salmon lesson.
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