The Angler Rose, He Took His Rod
THE angler rose, he took his rod,
He kneeled and made his prayers to God.
The living God sat overhead:
The angler tripped, the eels were fed
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Angler's Wrath
Like a fish on the angler's hook
Wriggling to escape
The angler's wrath
The gentleman she once knew
In true form was a real swine
Undressing her with his eyes
Tears threatening
As she tries to unclasp his hand
From her wrist
Sensing his enjoyment of her discomfort
He tighten his grip
Much against her will
Her heart pounding with excitement
Damn his dark eyes reeling her in
Was the last she remember
As his lips gently finds hers
poem by Persian Khushi
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I went to see every angler on the bank to see how they were doing, to try to give them a few tips or whatever. But yeah, we had a lot of fun. It was definitely a good time and we're definitely going to do it again next year.
quote by Tom Felton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good company and good discourse are the very sinews of virtue.
Izaak Walton in The Compleat Angler (1653)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Patient Angler
The angler of fish has patience over the wine,
He drinks this liquid when the fish are to decline.
poem by Naveed Akram
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As no man is born an artist, so no man is born an angler.
quote by Izaak Walton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Rose
Off on the prairie, where the balmy air
Kisses the waving corn,
There lives a farmer, with a daughter fair--
Fair as a summer's morn!
She has a nature gentle as a dove,
Pure as the mountain snows;
Say! is it strange that everyone should love--
Love such a girl as Rose?
Beautiful Rose! lovely Rose!
Pride of the prairie bower!
Everybody loves her--everybody knows
She is the fairest flower.
Rose is a lady yet from early dawn,
Labors her skillful hand;
She is the housewife, now her mother's gone--
Gone to the better land.
Rose has the beauty--father has the gold--
Both will be hers one day;
For she is young, while he is growing old--
Old people pass away.
Clerks from the city, plowmen from the field,
Lords from a foreign land;
Each in their turn have very humbly kneeled--
Kneeled for her heart and hand.
But to them all she made the same reply--
Kindly but firmly, "No!"
And none but I can tell the reason why--
Why she should treat them so.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Most Anglers are Very Humane
The kind-hearted angler was sadly pursuing
His calling unhallowed of choking the fishes;
He bitterly wept, for of course he was doing
An action most strongly opposed to his wishes!
His vertabra shook as he musingly planned
How kindly to threadle the worm he'd begun--it
Was plain had the reptile possessed a right hand
The penitent angler would gladly have wrung it!
He cast in his float filled with tearful emotion
And murmured "How fearful, how terrible this is!"
And just at that moment, amid some commotion,
He jerked out a panting and rather small piscis!
"Unfortunate fishlet, what dread impulse brought you
To meddle with bait which I carelessly threw in?
My dear little swimmer, I'm sorry I caught you,
So please don't blame me for contriving your ruin!"
"O barbel and salmon-trout, tench, dace and gugdeon,
O ev'ry fat jack and each eel (not a conger)
Why, why will you grieve me and stir up my dudgeon?
Go, die on his hooks who has eyes that are stronger!"
But, however, whilst moaning he pulled out a score,
And continued his wonderful luck till at last--it
Was plain that his soft heart could bear it no more,
Too deep were his groans, and--too full was his basket!
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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Bathed and Washed
"Bathed in fragrance,
do not brush your hat;
Washed in perfume,
do not shake your coat:
"Knowing the world
fears what is too pure,
The wisest man
prizes and stores light!"
By Bluewater
an old angler sat:
You and I together,
Let us go home.
I Want To Be Your Cloud
For once I'm not thinking of myself
Ulterior motives disappear and fade, fade
Colors return from the shade, shade
Helen among the thorns I put my pride on the shelf and I
See you at the bottom of the sea, blind with light in your eyes
Ill-guided by the angler in disguise and
All I want is to hold you up to the naked sunset sky. That's you.
poem by Eon Ezkiel
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The Victors
I was buying a sweater
From Nepali hawkers
A nude monkey gibbered
To Tsunami sea
An angler offered all his wealth, with a smile
His loin cloth
Rain abated
People are still locked in homes
Outside busy ant’s queue
Doused was forest fire
Within minutes came out of burrows
Rats squeaking
I wondered
Who conquered
The nature
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Alaska Epiphany
At first there was only the quiet solitude of the vast wilderness
Until I started tuning in to the symphony of life around me
It was then that I found my inner peace and began living in pure bliss
So much of Mother Nature's beauty was in abundance for me to see
Almost all of the pathways I walked on were left by my large furry friends
Many of whom I fished alongside, marveling at their angler skills
For a sockeye salmon, surely a bear's paw always trumps how a fly mends
There is something pure and essential that the natural order fulfills
At times when in meditation I could actually hear the whisper of trees
Then I realized all living things can communicate in their own way
And in that awakening, suddenly understood the language of the bees
It wasn't long before the secrets of the universe came into play
For when you are away from the hustle and bustle, out here on your own
You truly have a chance to experience what God created for you
Perhaps seeing the world as it is for the first time and not from your throne
But from His, then understanding that all He created and did is true
poem by Paul H Nelson
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Spiritual Pull
I've noticed how you use your spirit
when pretty girls pass by.
You pretend not to notice them,
leaving your spirit to give the eye.
They can't help but to engage conversation,
you're like an angler with a baited hook.
I don't know how you trained your spirit,
but you should write 'A Guide To Your Spirit' book.
All types of people enjoy talking with you,
I can see the sparkle in their eyes,
and you respond in such an unassuming way,
I wish my spirit could magnetise.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Broremann The Fisherman
Broremann the Angler
On the pier where fishing vessels were tied up my brother
sat fishing all the while seagulls kept swooping and shrieking,
he blissfully ignored them. He had no hook at the end of his
line and when asked why he said, I don´t like to hurt the fish.
But crafty little Broremann was not as innocent as you may
think, he didn´t like fish, all those horrible tiny bones,
his mother had sent him down to the pier to try catch some
fish for lunch. He liked sausages with mashed potatoes and
stewed peas, now he could go home tell his mother fish didn´t
bite today, but made sure to put the hook on the line so his
mother could see he was really trying. An old fisherman gave
him two sardines wrapped in a newspaper, but wouldn´t you
know it the pair of sardines somehow slipped out of the paper
and made their way back to the sea.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Angler's Ballad
AWAY to the brook,
All your tackle out look,
Here's a day that is worth a year's wishing;
See that all things be right,
For 'tis a very spite
To want tools when a man goes a-fishing.
Your rod with tops two,
For the same will not do
If your manner of angling you vary
And full will you may think
If you troll with a pink,
One too weak will be apt to miscarry.
Then basket, neat made
By a master in's trade
In a belt at your shoulders must dangle;
For none e'er was so vain
To wear this to disdain,
Who a true Brother was of the Angle.
Next, pouch must not fail,
Stuff'd as full as a mail,
With wax, crewels, silks, hair, furs and feathers,
To make several flies,
For the several skies,
That shall kill in despite of all weathers.
The boxes and books
For your lines and your hooks,
And, though not for strict need notwithstanding,
Your scissors, and your hone
To adjust your points on,
With a net to be sure for your landing.
All these things being on,
'Tis high time we were gone,
Down, and upward, that all may have pleasure;
Till, here meeting at night,
We shall have the delight
To discourse of our fortunes at leisure.
The day's not too bright,
And the wind hits us right,
And all Nature does seem to invite us;
We have all things at will
For to second our skill,
As they all did conspire to delight us.
Or stream now, or still,
A large pannier will fill,
Trout and grayling to rise are so willing;
I dare venture to say
'Twill be a bloody day,
And we all shall be weary of killing.
Away then, away,
We lose sport by delay,
But first leave all our sorrows behind us;
If misfortune do come,
We are all gone from home,
And a-fishing she never can find us.
The Angler is free
From the cares that degree
Finds itself with so often tormented;
And though we should slay
Each a hundred to-day,
'Tis a slaughter needs ne'er be repented.
And though we display
All our arts to betray
What were made for man's pleasure and diet;
Yet both princes and states
May, for all our quaint baits,
Rule themselves and their people in quiet.
We scratch not our pates,
Nor repine at the rates
Our superiors impose on our living;
But do frankly submit,
Knowing they have more wit
in demanding, than we have in giving.
Whilst quiet we sit
We conclude all things fit,
Acquiescing with hearty submission;
For, though simple, we know
The soft murmurs will grow
At the last into down-right sedition.
We care not who says,
And intends it dispraise,
That an Angler t'a fool is next neighbour;
Let him prate, what care we,
We're as honest as he,
And so let him take that for his labour.
We covet no wealth
But the blessing of health,
And that greater good conscience within;
Such devotion we bring
To our God and our King,
That from either no offers can win.
Whilst we sit and fish
We do pray as we wish,
For long life to our King James the Second;
Honest Anglers then may,
Or they've very foul play,
With the best of good subjects be reckon'd.
poem by Charles Cotton
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You Tripped At Every Step
Take your tiny feet out of your mothers shoes
Or there is going to be a terrible scene
Its not just the lipstick drawn on crooked
When they find how wicked we are
How wicked we have been
How Ive been tempted
Chorus:
How you tripped at every step
You tripped at every step, you tripped at every step
How you tripped at every step
Theres a merry tune that starts in i
And ends in you, like many famous pop songs do
You would sing along with little tell-tale staggers
While balancing on daggers
Though they were killing you
You looked so deadly
Chorus
And I would try to catch you
Anytime you call
Only you drank that potion
And went out of control
Theres nothing to stop you
So how can you fall?
Let me take your hand
Put down that frying pan
Darkness would become me underneath the table
As the fury raged around the house
Your despairing tread was angry and unstable
You never suspected
Just as that cartoon mouse
Went undetected
So you tripped at every step
In another world of gin and cigarettes
Those cocktail cabinets put mud in your eye
Maybe that is why you find it hard to see me
And if you dont believe me
Before you start to cry
Dont ever leave me
As you start to lose your grip
(once you start losing your grip)
You will stumble as you slip
(and you will stumble and slip)
As you tripped at every step
You tripped at every step, you tripped at every step
As you tripped at every step
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man, A Torch
Blown up with painful care and hard to light,
A glimmering torch blown in a moment out,
Suspended by a web, an angler's bait,
Floating at stake along the stream of chance,
Snatch'd from its hook by the fish of poverty,
A silent cavern is his last abode;
The king's repository veil'd with gloom,
The umbrage of a thousand oziers bowed,
The couch of hallowed bones, the grave's asylum,
The brave's retreat and end of ev'ry care.
poem by George Moses Horton
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The Angler Fish
If the male to the unbilical chord
Is tied, an angler fish inside a womb;
Caught between weakness and devouring strength,
The duty of manhood and pity's tomb;
Life within love's placenta, strewn at length
The Ocean bed, is but death's lovely ward.
Deep within her flesh, his soul ruminates
Swallowing the debris she has long cared,
Seeing with her eyes, sensing with the tips
Of feelers, her body's corpse long prepared,
Not knowing if it's he or she who dips
The line, to catch the fish, that time frustrates.
poem by David Levitas
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Fisherfolk
I like to look at fishermen
And oftentimes I wish
One would be lucky now and then
And catch a little fish.
I watch them statuesquely stand,
And at the water look;
But if they pull their float to land
It's just to bait a hook.
I ponder the psychology
That roots them in their place;
And wonder at the calm I see
In ever angler's face.
There is such patience in their eyes,
Beside the river's brink;
And waiting for a bite or rise
I do not think they think.
Or else they are just gentle men,
Who love--they know not why,
Greeen grace of trees or water when
It wimples to the sky . . .
Sweet simple souls! As vain I watch
My heart to you is kind:
Most precious prize of all you catch,
--Just Peace of Mind.
poem by Robert William Service
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Pulled Up
Mommy, daddy, come and look at me now
Im a big man in a great big town
Years ago who would believe its true
Goes to show what a little faith can do
I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so strong now cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up
I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
You pulled me up
I slipped, and I got pulled,
Pulled up, I slipped, and then you pulled,
You pulled me up pull me up pull me up...
Pulled me up up up up up up up up
I drift away to another land
Sleeping dreaming such a simple thing
I think of things that I might be
I see my name go down in history
I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so string now cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up
I slipped, and I got pulled,
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
You pulled me up
I tripped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I slipped, and then you pulled
You pulled me up! pulled me up up, pulled me up...
Pulled me up up up up up up up up
I got up
cause you pulled me up
I stood up
cause you pulled me up
I got up
And that was because you pulled me up
I got up
In a little while you pulled me up
Pull me up up up up, up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
I cast a shadow on the living-room wall
Dark and savage with a profile so sharp
Keep that wonderful food on the table
Theres really no hurry Ill eat in a while
I was complaining, I was down in the dumps
I feel so strong now cause you pulled me up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I tripped, and then you pulled,
You pulled me up
I slipped, and I got pulled
Pulled up, I slipped,
And then you pulled, you pulled me up!
Pull me up...pull me up...watch out!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
Pull me up up up up up up up up!
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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