050510J trying not to work
i happened to talk to a gentleman
retired from government last month
he is taking his time without a plan
fishing the wharf at morning sunshine
got his fishing hooks all tangled up
he told me, last he just threw in a box
on his first cast he yelled 'come on bite'
in my mind how could they without bait
snug 'em that won't be very pretty sight
i guess he saw me with a grin; respond
'oh! yes, i never put bait on first launch'
'i noticed, you must be clearing the rust'
poem by Manonton Dalan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lost Bait
I lost my bait
Where did I bait the last time?
My loss determined I don't prevail
I'd better go back to kids' playing
Instead of fishing on shore
Calm down I know what you want
But you just lost your wording chance
And the chance to fish a whale
Sitting there worried, anguished
Maybe feared so much
But you're so strong
And I'd better be retired
I lost my bait and I don't have fishing in my mind
Leaving the young one to be worried to death
poem by Yihuai Ying
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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5. Gone Fishing
Fishermen cast out their nets
We all in turn go fishing
Some will use a rod and line
While others fish by wishing
Some wish for so many things
Like numbers in a line
If the line is lacking some
Next time they say that’s fine
Others fish for gossip
So they can tell to others
No escape for anyone
Not even someone’s brothers
Fishing for a missing sock
The washer won’t release
Hiding out behind the drum
With fluff and bits of fleece
You see we all go fishing
Not always using bait
Just cast a line for what you want
Then settle down and wait
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fisherman's Boat
I am tied to a pole
In me came and sat a fisherman with a big mole
He had a fishing rod and a net
With a bucket and bait so wet
He untied me and rowed me
Into the deep sea
And with rod, net and bait
He caught fish till late
He went home with a big fish
To prepare and eat a tasty dish
Tomorrow again he’ll come wearing his overcoat
To untie me, his little fishing boat.
poem by Niharika Singh
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The fishing
Lust is the bait given by the God
To get the fish which are children.
We don’t catch fish with the bait
And instead eat the bait and forget fishing.
17.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Satan's Lures
Satan loves the sport of fishing.
His tackle box filled with bait,
he goes out to the lake of life
to cast his line, and wait.
The devil knows us, every one
and knows which lures to use.
In accordance with our weaknesses
he determines which to choose.
Dishonesty, pornography,
pride, selfishness and hate.
False witness, greed, the list goes on.
The sin becomes the bait.
Many bite and are deceived.
And in a snap they're hooked.
They learn too late that Satan's bait
is not as it had looked.
It's important that we choose the right
for this life is our test;
and when we choose to do what's right
we truly will be blessed.
So feed on Heavenly Fathers words.
Great blessings will be yours,
as you watch and pray, and stay away
from Satan and his lures.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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But I Caught Nine
She slammed the door
I'd heard it before
Every month she is cranky
This is that time
She'll be back
After a cuppa with mum
A wonderful woman
The peacemaker
I'd been fishing
They were biting
So I stayed a bit longer
I guess too long
But Honey I caught nine
You said you'd be home at one
I planned things for us
Now you ruined it
Calm down Honey
The World didn't end
You wouldn't have noticed
Too busy fishing and drinking
When are you going to mow
That jungle out the front
I'm so sick of it
It's fishing or bloody footy
Off she went in a huff
I'd mowed that morning
So I gutted the fish
Watched footy on TV
poem by Phil Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gone Fishing
Im gone fishing
I got me a line
Nothing I do is gonna make the difference
So Im taking the time
And you aint never gonna be happy
Anyhow, anyway
So Im gone fishing
And Im going today
Im gone fishing
Sounds crazy I know
I know nothing about fishing
But just watch me go
And when the time has come
I will look back and see
Peace on the shoreline
That could have been me
You can waste a whole lifetime
Trying to be
What you think is expected of you
But youll never be free
May as well go fishing
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In His Fishing Expedition
in his fishing expedition
his bait is this bluff
and with gullibility
you take the bait,
swallow the hook, line and sinker
i say
baby you have not yet learned the intricate art of the spies
those who are still not captured by the enemies
in the middle of their yards
take the bait
and put it back to the sea
you must learn how to fish too
in this expedition of lies and deception
take the shape of the mythical mermaid
swim like a slimy fish but sing like a beautiful woman.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grandpa's Lake
He was sitting by himself all alone,
Down in a little corner.
Looking out of place, in the funeral home,
And away from all the mourners.
His dad walked up, and I heard him say,
Daddy can I go home?
I don't know why grandpa went away,
But he might be home alone.
I want to be there, when he gets back,
We were going fishing today.
He'll need his hooks and rods, and that burlap sack,
Where he puts the fish away.
His dad looked up, a tear in his eye,
And said 'grandpa's fishing now.'
But it's a great big lake, up in the sky,
And you can't go there right now.
He's fishing with his dad today,
They'll be fishing for some time.
They have a lot to do and say,
Cause to that lake it's a long steep climb.
They haven't seen each other,
In oh, so many years.
And grandpa's glad to see his father,
And both their eyes have tears.
And grandpa's a little boy again,
Just a fishing with his dad.
And on his face there's no more pain,
I hope for him your'e glad.
The little boy just smiled and said,
I guess I'm happy about that.
Yes for grampa I'm very glad,
But for me, I guess I'm sad.
I wanted to go fishing, with my grampa today.
But if you can take me,
To the lake, maybe the bay,
I'll go, my time is free.
I guess I'll wait to fish with grampa,
Till I can make it to his lake.
Maybe he'll find some secret spots,
I sure hope so, for my sake.
1/4/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Advertising
Hooks in our psyche floating free
Waiting for our greed to grab them
Fishing for fools in the consumer pool
That's the job of the Ad-Men
If I could steal the bait off hooks
I would do it in every river
I'd tie the lines to crannies and nooks
And watch the baiters quiver
Let truth let out its barbed string
Keeping all greed at bay
Let the jingle singers sing
But
Let the facts have their say
poem by Kishore Asthana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Personal Vendettas
Personal vendettas,
Seem more to be a solicitation,
Of an invitation sent...
By one.
To create the getting of attention,
From another.
Fishing to distract and to bait,
Someone to escalate a debate...
That initiates a wasting of time,
One who is focused in mind...
Continues to ignore.
And that upsets the agitator,
Wishing to be noticed in a crowd.
With a seeking of a preference to reference.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Goodbye Little Colombus
I'm going fishing
I got me a line
Nothin' I do's gonna' make the difference
So I'm taking the time
And you ain't never gonna' be happy
Anyhow, anyway
So I'm going fishing
And I'm going today
I'm going fishing
Sounds crazy I know
I know nothing about fishing
But just watch me go
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I love To Go Fishing
I love to go fishing everyday,
To the river or the lake.
Up in the morning without delay,
I go fishing soon as I wake.
Down to the water to wet my line,
My float bobbing up and down.
Fishing in the morning, is just so fine,
Your face will never sport a frown.
A big ole catfish, or a little bluegill,
I just don't give a hoot.
I love the way fishing makes me feel,
To me it's like forbidden fruit.
If I get lucky and get a bite,
Then the day is made.
I'll stick around till early night,
Just snoozing in the shade.
1/20/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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But, I Can't Stop Fishing! ! !
But, I can't stop fishing,
I told my new wife.
It's an integral part,
Of all young men's lifes.
But she laid down the law,
It was fishing or her.
Get rid of the tackle,
The rods and the lures.
She wanted no part,
Of those smelly fish.
To tell you the truth,
She was really a...pain.
Well I don't know what happened,
But after a while,
She just let it go,
Like a bright eyed little child.
And I took her fishing,
For the first time in her life.
And she caught more than me,
My wonderful new wife.
It's close to forty years now,
And she never stays home.
She says it's not right,
That I go fishing alone.
12/21/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm fishing for men with a certain kind of bait, and the bait that I am offering is not a candy; it's a very specific thing that I'm offering, which is a deep gospel and a deep conversion.
quote by Larry Norman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Say It Bait It And Run
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it and berate it.
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it,
Leave and run.
How we slid to the bottom from the top.
Say it bait it and run.
Who did what to start this problem.
Say it bait it and run.
Corruption done under dirty rugs.
Say it bait it and run.
What thugs brought this to fisticuffs.
Say it bait it and run.
What party pooped their rule.
Say it bait it and run.
Who's too cool and cuckoo too!
Say it bait it and run.
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it and berate it.
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it,
Leave and run.
Who's too cool and cuckoo too!
Say it bait it and run.
Who's too cuckoo and too cool.
Say it bait it and run.
Who's too cool and cuckoo too!
Say it bait it and run.
Who's too cuckoo and too cool.
Say it bait it and run.
But that cool cuckoo's no fool.
To cause what has been done!
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it and berate it.
You can say it and run.
Say it and run.
About what's been done.
You can say it,
Leave it and run.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the bait's worth more than the fish, it's time to stop fishing.
When the bait is more than the fish, 'tis time to stop fishing.
African American proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fishing Trip
The Fishing Trip
By
Ross Dix-Peek
Oh, How I remember those fishing trips with my Dad
Ah, They made me so very, very glad
Up at three in the morn
Long before the coming of the dawn
My father assembling all his fishing tackle
So very gleeful, a laugh and a cackle
“Have you got the bait boy, ready to go? ”
“Yes, Dad”, and away we would go, all in tow
In our dear old “Landie” the rugged road was ne’er a problem
As we traversed the winding dirt tracks, and some
Ah, the window down and the wind in my hair
The smell of fresh bait a waft in the air
Rugged Africa all about, myriad of sounds ringing out
My dear old Dad gaily whistling, as we headed south
A cigarette forever dangling from his smiling mouth
And all the while the great African sun beats down
And then to the river waters we would come
Excitement in the air and then some
Dad would sit and the waters study
A swig of Coca-Cola, and then we were ready
The fishing gear debouched
Us along the river bank crouched
Rods dangling in the silver stream
Waiting for our first catch, possibly bream
Ah, those days, those days were so fine
The scorching sun upon my spine
Sitting next to my beloved Dad
Ah, but those days be gone now, really quite sad!
Anyway, with our great bundle of fish in tow
We would finally onward to home go,
But now years later my dear old Dad is dead
Only those wonderful memories do remain in my head
So, if you with your Dad fishing do go
And the seeds of bonding do sow
Don’t the time wish away
For there will come a day
When your dear old Dad no longer is there,
And wasted time together is too awful a cross to bear!
poem by Ross DixPeek
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dedicated Fishermen
The lads, Sid, Fred, Frank and Len,
Are four dedicated fishermen,
Telling stories of their latest bite,
They'd sometimes talk right through the night,
About the 'big one' that got away,
Which was to everybody's great dismay.
These gentlemen, would then debate,
About different hooks and various bait.
They'd talk of hours spent on sandbanks,
How the lastest catch, had been or course, Frank's,
Searching for cod, sea bass and salmon,
Whilst eating sandwiches filled with gammon,
And drinking cups of tomato soup,
They'd sit there with a 'shoulder' stoop,
And contemplating about the weather,
Their spirits would feel as light as a feather.
The day could be long, but there was always the sun,
And peace and quiet, when 'all's said and done',
Along with a container of cockles and shrimps, they
Would definitely catch some fish by the end of the day.
So Fred, Len, Frank and Sid, sat on
And quietly mused till the light was gone,
Then trudged off to the pub, cos their throats had dried.
But they'll be fishing again with the next high tide!
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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