The Idler’s Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. April
TROUT--FISHING
This morning, through my window, half awake,
I felt the south wind blow; and presently,
With a tumultuous thrill and then a shake,
The nightingale broke forth in melody.
I rose in haste, and looked at the grey sky,
And read an omen. From its corner next
A book I drew, blest book, where fly on fly
Are all the letters of its well--thumbed text.
I chose my cast, a march--brown and a dun,
And ran down to the river, chasing hope.
At the first throw a mighty trout was on,
A very Samson, fit to burst a rope,
Yet tamed by one sad hank of yielding hair
And Fate, the fisherman of King and Pope.
Upon the grass he lies, and gasps the air,
Four silver pounds, sublimely fat and fair.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Related quotes
Gone Fishin
When good ole spring comes rollin’ round
And the trout are in the brook,
A longing comes over me with a bound
To cast my feathered hook.
Then I get all my tackle out
My rods and reels and roundabouts
To go fishing for those trout
That I’ve read so much about.
There’s monsters here the circulars say
But every cursed day
That I go fishing out that way
Those monsters all go in to stay.
I never saw the sun once
During all my stay
But I’ll go home and tell everyone
‘Bout the big ones that got away.
poem by George Hunter
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Part 4 of Trout Fishing in America
THE AUTOPSY OF
TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA
This is the autopsy of Trout Fishing in America as if Trout
Fishing in America had been Lord Byron and had died in
Missolonghi, Greece, and afterward never saw the shores
of Idaho again, never saw Carrie Creek, Worsewick Hot
Springs, Paradise Creek, Salt Creek and Duck Lake again.
The Autopsy of Trout Fishing in America:
"The body was in excellent state and appeared as one that
had died suddenly of asphyxiation. The bony cranial vault
was opened and the bones of the cranium were found very
hard without any traces of the sutures like the bones of a
person 80 years, so much so that one would have said that
the cranium was formed by one solitary bone. . . . The
meninges were attached to the internal walls of the cranium
so firmly that while sawing the bone around the interior to
detach the bone from the dura the strength of two robust men
was not sufficient. . . . The cerebrum with cerebellum
weighed about six medical pounds. The kidneys were very
large but healthy and the urinary bladder was relatively
small. "
On May 2, 1824, the body of Trout Fishing in America
left Missolonghi by ship destined to arrive in England on the
evening of June 29, 1824.
Trout Fishing in America's body was preserved in a cask
holding one hundred-eighty gallons of spirits: 0, a long way
from Idaho, a long way from Stanley Basin, Little Redfish
Lake, the Big Lost River and from Lake Josephus and the
Big Wood River.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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Yes, the Fish Music
A trout-colored wind blows
through my eyes, through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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On A Young Poetess’s Grave
UNDER her gentle seeing,
In her delicate little hand,
They placed the Book of Being,
To read and understand.
The Book was mighty and olden,
Yea, worn and eaten with age;
Though the letters look’d great and golden,
She could not read a page.
The letters flutter’d before her,
And all look’d sweetly wild:
Death saw her, and bent o’er her,
As she pouted her lips and smil’d.
And weary a little with tracing
The Book, she look’d aside,
And lightly smiling, and placing
A Flower in its leaves, she died.
She died, but her sweetness fled not,
As fly the things of power,—
For the Book wherein she read not
Is the sweeter for the Flower.
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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At Hout Bay the fishing trawler sails out
At Hout Bay the fishing trawler sails out
while the rain pours down
like water out of God’s hosepipe
with engines roaring in the ears
and clouds of smoke hang over the boats
with every fisherman for a moment being caught
in a own world while fog whirl about the boats
that rocks up and down to the harbour mouth.
The waves crash, the sea foams and bubbles
and “my girlfriend has a good lover, ”
is sung by one while the trawler sets its course
on the look out for barracouta, cod and sea trout.
“Look at the shining bodies, tons of trout, they are running free, ”
a fisherman shouts against the wind that pulls and pulls on the boat.
“Salmon man, salmon” roars the tiller man back and walls of water
roll past and the boat turns to get fishing gear ready.
“My girlfriend has a good lover and he’s a gelded goat, ”
the tune goes on and something clatters down
drawing the attention of the fishermen and the water shines
and when the boat is full they tell jokes that they guffaw at.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Samson & Delilah
If I had my way, I would tear this old building down.
Well delilah was a woman, she was fine and fair,
She had good looks, God knows, and coal black hair,
Delilah she gained old samsons mind.
When first he saw this woman, you know he couldnt believe his mind.
Delilah she climbed up on samsons knee,
Said tell me where your strength lies if you please.
She spoke so kind and she talked so fair,
Well samson said, delilah cut off my hair.
You can shave my head, clean as my hand
And my strength will become as natural as any old man.
If I had my way, if I had my way, if I had my way,
I would tear this old building down.
You read about samson, all from his works,
He was the strongest man that ever had lived on earth.
One day when samson was walking along,
Looked down on the ground, he saw an old jawbone.
He stretched out his arm, God knows, chains broke like thread,
When he got to moving, ten thousand was dead.
If I had my way, if I had my way, if I had my way,
I would tear this old building down.
Now samson and the lion, they got in a tack,
Samson he crawled up on the lions back.
You read about this lion, he killed a man with his paws,
But samson got his hands around that lions jaws.
He ripped the beast till he killed him dead.
The bees made honey in the lions head.
If I had my way, if I had my way, if I had my way,
I would tear this old building down.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mechanical Man
I do everything he never would
Im mechanical man
When I say I understood,
I only knew where to stand
But Ill be there for you
When your worlds on a wire
My mechanical moves
Fit the mood you desire
Hope I will recreate the thrill
Take your body by the hand
Shake your soul awake
Dropping science at your feet
I whisper low and sweet
If you wanna see me angry I can be
Lose a number miss a key and I will be
I can read your mind
But still believe your lies
I can dance but Ill never understand
Mechanical man
Hope I will recreate the thrill
Take your body by the hand
Shake your soul awake
Shake your soul awake
But Im not perfect after all
I still get jealous when he calls
Somethings wrong, pride was never in the plan
Turn me in for a brand new mechanical man
Hope he will recreate the thrill
Shake your soul awake
Shake your soul awake
You can get me wet
Scream when youre upset
Ill never understand you
Im programmed to forget
You can get me wet
Scream when youre upset
Ill never understand you
Im programmed to forget
Shake your soul awake
song performed by by Folk Implosion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yea! Heavy And A Bottle Of Bread (1)
by Bob Dylan
Well, the comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.
The poor little chauffeur, though, she was back in bed
On the very next day, with a nose full of pus.
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
It's a one-track town, just brown, and a breeze, too,
Pack up the meat, sweet, we're headin' out
For Wichita in a pile of fruit.
Get the loot, don't be slow, we're gonna catch a trout
Get the loot, don't be slow, we're gonna catch a trout
Get the loot, don't be slow, we're gonna catch a trout
Now, pull that drummer out from behind that bottle.
Bring me my pipe, we're gonna shake it.
Slap that drummer with a pie that smells.
Take me down to California, baby
Take me down to California, baby
Take me down to California, baby
Yes, the comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.
The poor little chauffeur, though, she was back in bed
On the very next day, with a nose full of pus.
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! Heavy and a bottle of bread
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yea! Heavy & A Bottle Of Bread
Well, the comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.
The poor little chauffeur, though, she was back in bed
On the very next day, with a nose full of pus.
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Its a one-track town, just brown, and a breeze, too,
Pack up the meat, sweet, were headin out
For wichita in a pile of fruit.
Get the loot, dont be slow, were gonna catch a trout
Get the loot, dont be slow, were gonna catch a trout
Get the loot, dont be slow, were gonna catch a trout
Now, pull that drummer out from behind that bottle.
Bring me my pipe, were gonna shake it.
Slap that drummer with a pie that smells.
Take me down to california, baby
Take me down to california, baby
Take me down to california, baby
Yes, the comic book and me, just us, we caught the bus.
The poor little chauffeur, though, she was back in bed
On the very next day, with a nose full of pus.
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
Yea! heavy and a bottle of bread
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Lambert's Bay The Fishing Trawlers Sail Out
At Lambert's Bay the fishing trawlers sail out
where clouds of smoke hang over the boats
while the rain pours down in buckets.
The waves hit, the sea foams and bubble,
it looks as if a storm is rising
and 'my girlfriend has a fine fellow, '
one sings in darkness before he starts whistling
where clouds of smoke hang over the boats.
At Lambert's Bay the fishing trawlers sail out
seeking snoek, cod and sea-trout
and the boat turns to get out fishing gear,
it looks as if a storm is rising
and the men wait on the sea's first gifts
with rain like only God's hosepipe brings
while the rain pours down in buckets.
'Look at that shining bodies, tons of trout, they are running free, '
the song continues and something falls down
and the boat turns to get out fishing gear,
with engines roaring loudly
every fisherman is caught for a moment.
At Lambert's Bay the fishing trawlers sail out
'my girlfriend has a fine fellow and he is a wild goat, '
one sings against the wind with more joining voices,
the song continues and something falls down
and the tiller-man wonders about the sudden rain
but the fishermen are catching
while the rain pours down in buckets
they are standing ready but half-blinded
'Where are we going on the wide, wide sea'
one sings against the wind with more joining voices,
gigantic waves hits and pulls the boat
and some fishermen are scared.
At Lambert's Bay the fishing trawlers sail out
while the rain pours down in buckets
while the fishermen sing their song:
'The waves hit, the sea foams and bubble, '
'where are we going on the wide, wide sea'
and 'my girlfriend has a fine fellow.'
[Reference: Barracouta is known in South-Africa as 'snoek.']
poem by Gert Strydom
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Dave Lilly
There's a brook on the side of Greylock that used to be full of trout,
But there's nothing there now but minnows; they say it is all fished out.
I fished there many a Summer day some twenty years ago,
And I never quit without getting a mess of a dozen or so.
There was a man, Dave Lilly, who lived on the North Adams road,
And he spent all his time fishing, while his neighbors reaped and sowed.
He was the luckiest fisherman in the Berkshire hills, I think.
And when he didn't go fishing he'd sit in the tavern and drink.
Well, Dave is dead and buried and nobody cares very much;
They have no use in Greylock for drunkards and loafers and such.
But I always liked Dave Lilly, he was pleasant as you could wish;
He was shiftless and good-for-nothing, but he certainly could fish.
The other night I was walking up the hill from Williamstown
And I came to the brook I mentioned,
and I stopped on the bridge and sat down.
I looked at the blackened water with its little flecks of white
And I heard it ripple and whisper in the still of the Summer night.
And after I'd been there a minute it seemed to me I could feel
The presence of someone near me, and I heard the hum of a reel.
And the water was churned and broken, and something was brought to land
By a twist and flirt of a shadowy rod in a deft and shadowy hand.
I scrambled down to the brookside and hunted all about;
There wasn't a sign of a fisherman; there wasn't a sign of a trout.
But I heard somebody chuckle behind the hollow oak
And I got a whiff of tobacco like Lilly used to smoke.
It's fifteen years, they tell me, since anyone fished that brook;
And there's nothing in it but minnows that nibble the bait off your hook.
But before the sun has risen and after the moon has set
I know that it's full of ghostly trout for Lilly's ghost to get.
I guess I'll go to the tavern and get a bottle of rye
And leave it down by the hollow oak, where Lilly's ghost went by.
I meant to go up on the hillside and try to find his grave
And put some flowers on it -- but this will be better for Dave.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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A Married Man's A Fool
(Willie McTell)
Had a friend, Louie Brown, he was a deacon
Just as wise as he could be
Now I realized he could read the Good Book
Back from Revelations down to Genesis
You know last Sunday morning we was over to the church
My buddy wants to take him a stand
And he looks out upon that whole congregation
The Good Book in his hand
Now he cast his eye about, and then he looks over in the Amen Corner
All the sisters commenced to shout [What'd he say ?]
He said a married man's a fool to think that his wife love nobody else but him
She stick by you all your life the chances is mighty slim
Now you read the Good Book, chapter twenty-one:
Every married woman got to have a little fun
Read on over chapter twenty-two:
It's a sin to let that woman make a fool outta you
Now you read a little further, chapter twenty-three:
She two-time you, brother, like she double-crossed me
Read on back, over chapter ten:
She shimmy one time, you got the problem again
'Cause a married man's a fool to think that his wife
Loves nobody else but him, I mean, loves nobody else but him
Well, a married man's a fool to think that his wife
Loves nobody else but him
She stands by you all your life the chances is mighty and slim
Now you read on over twenty-fifth page:
Married womens, Lord, is hard to engage
Read kinda careful, chapter twenty-six:
Back door slamming you got to learn to get it fixed
Read on out, chapter twenty-eight:
Who's that back slidin' out through the back gate ?
I believe I'll close on chapter twenty-nine:
Woman get tired of the same man all the time
'Cause a married man's fool to think that his wife love nobody else but him
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Married Mans A Fool
(willie mctell)
Had a friend, louie brown, he was a deacon
Just as wise as he could be
Now I realized he could read the good book
Back from revelations down to genesis
You know last sunday morning we was over to the church
My buddy wants to take him a stand
And he looks out upon that whole congregation
The good book in his hand
Now he cast his eye about, and then he looks over in the amen corner
All the sisters commenced to shout [whatd he say ? ]
He said a married mans a fool to think that his wife love nobody else but him
She stick by you all your life the chances is mighty slim
Now you read the good book, chapter twenty-one:
Every married woman got to have a little fun
Read on over chapter twenty-two:
Its a sin to let that woman make a fool outta you
Now you read a little further, chapter twenty-three:
She two-time you, brother, like she double-crossed me
Read on back, over chapter ten:
She shimmy one time, you got the problem again
cause a married mans a fool to think that his wife
Loves nobody else but him, I mean, loves nobody else but him
Well, a married mans a fool to think that his wife
Loves nobody else but him
She stands by you all your life the chances is mighty and slim
Now you read on over twenty-fifth page:
Married womens, lord, is hard to engage
Read kinda careful, chapter twenty-six:
Back door slamming you got to learn to get it fixed
Read on out, chapter twenty-eight:
Whos that back slidin out through the back gate ?
I believe Ill close on chapter twenty-nine:
Woman get tired of the same man all the time
cause a married mans fool to think that his wife love nobody else but him
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishing Hole
Some place quiet
peaceful
Preferably
I would like to
Walk
Or maybe
Ride a bike there
If I have to drive
I think too many people might know about it
It has already become too popular
Its purpose
The reason I would have went there
has already been defeated
I'm not trying to give an impression of exclusivity
Sometimes
I just want to be alone
In a place where
I can take a book
Read for hours
I can take a pen and note book
Maybe my laptop
Write for days
I'd bring my headphones
Or
Listen to nature's symphony
A radio would be too much
Too loud
Not something I would want to carry
I won't do what I did to my last one
One became two
Two became a few
A few
For me
Became too many
I won't tell anyone
Ill just leave a note,
Gone fishing
Be back
Sometime between
Now and Then
©Christopher F. Brown 2012
Technorati Tags: Fishing Hole, poetry, Christopher F. Brown, cfbrown.com
poem by Christopher Brown
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Hook, Line And Sinker
I have always wondered what it means
when someone using oral means
says something so colloquial
that it is understood by all
except us foreigners of course
yes language, it is such a force!
A lady fishing from the bridge
her husband though had climbed a ridge
they were in heated competition
and liked the thought of going fishing.
A tug was felt along her line
at first she felt she should recline
and pull until the fish came out
it probably would be a trout.
It did not work and hubby yelled
about the way his sweetheart held
the fishing pole, she called him 'stinker'
then she fell in, hook, line and sinker.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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When The Book Of Life Is Read
Recorded by hank williams, sr.
Words and music by hank williams, sr.
Capo: 4th fret/key: f#/play: d
[d] in lifes many battles that [g] you will have to [d] fight
Just stay close to jesus and [e7] journey in his [a7] light
Then [d] on that judgement morning [g] when all pain has [d] fled
Youll stand in gods kingdom, when the [a7] book of life is [d] read.
[g] when the seals are broken and [d] names are read aloud
Youll see many loved ones [e7] standin in the [a7] crowd
So [d] brother keep on prayin and [g] follow where youre [d] lead
Youll stand in gods kingdom, when the [a7] book of life is [d] read.
All your dreams of heaven will come true on that day
When the sky shall open and this earth melt away
Then all gods faithful children will raise up from the dead
United in gods kingdom, when the book of life is read.
What a happy feelin to know hell always care
And when our work is over heaven with him well share
Theres be no pain or sorrow, no tears will eer be shed
When we stand there in gods kingdom and the book of life is read.
Note. chords for 3rd and 4th verses same as 1st and 2nd
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Eagle's Life
An Eagle soars high above,
Skimming seas, lakes and cove,
Piercing, sharp, an Eagle's eye,
Swooping down, did spy,
Swimming trout en route,
Mother Nature's food.
She swooped down and without a doubt,
The majestic eagle has just caught a trout.
With one swipe, her claw did grab,
A fleshy trout, hardly a flap.
The Best Book In The World
the best book
in the world
the only true book
is the world itself
the Book of Nature
the best book is the silence
the wordless-ness in
the clouds and the sky
and the rivers and the oceans
and the lands
and the grass that breaks through the concrete;
and in the deserts and the volcanoes
and the stars
and the moon
and the creatures of the earth
and in all fellow beings
and the vastness beyond
and the vastness within
the best book
the only true book
(every other book is distortion)
is the world itself
the Book of Nature:
read it
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Part 1 of Trout Fishing in America
THE COVER FOR
TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA
The cover for Trout Fishing in America is a photograph taken
late in the afternoon, a photograph of the Benjamin Franklin
statue in San Francisco's Washington Square.
Born 1706--Died 1790, Benjamin Franklin stands on a
pedestal that looks like a house containing stone furniture.
He holds some papers in one hand and his hat in the other.
Then the statue speaks, saying in marble:
PRESENTED BY
H. D. COGSWELL
TO OUR
BOYS AND GIRLS
WHO WILL SOON
TAKE OUR PLACES
AND PASS ON.
Around the base of the statue are four words facing the
directions of this world, to the east WELCOME, to the west
WELCOME, to the north WELCOME, to the south WELCOME.
Just behind the statue are three poplar trees, almost leafless
except for the top branches. The statue stands in front
of the middle tree. All around the grass is wet from the
rains of early February.
In the background is a tall cypress tree, almost dark like
a room. Adlai Stevenson spoke under the tree in 1956, before
a crowd of 40, 000 people.
There is a tall church across the street from the statue
with crosses, steeples, bells and a vast door that looks like
a huge mousehole, perhaps from a Tom and Jerry cartoon,
and written above the door is 'Per L'Universo.'
Around five o'clock in the afternoon of my cover for
Trout Fishing in America, people gather in the park across
the street from the church and they are hungry.
It's sandwich time for the poor.
But they cannot cross the street until the signal is given.
Then they all run across the street to the church and get
their sandwiches that are wrapped in newspaper. They go
back to the park and unwrap the newspaper and see what their
sandwiches are all about.
A friend of mine unwrapped his sandwich one afternoon
and looked inside to find just a leaf of spinach. That was all.
Was it Kafka who learned about America by reading the
autobiography of Benjamin Franklin..............
Kafka who said, 'I like the Americans because they are healthy
and optimistic.'
poem by Richard Brautigan
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