A Poem of Hunting, Fishing, and a Truck
I throw my gun in the back of my truck
With it I hope to kill a 12-point buck
While in the woods, BANG! I see the deer fall
I take him home, freeze the meat, and mount his horns on my wall
I grab my pole and tackle box and head to the lake
At this time in the morning, I feel barely awake
There is no school today, I’m glad there is no class
A mighty tug on my line, I hook a large mouth bass
There is nothing like hunting; waiting for the kill
Cutting and cleaning the meat my freezer I’ll soon fill
Deer steaks and deer jerky have such a great taste
And with his head on my wall nothing goes to waste
I like fishing, fishing is fun
Fishing underneath the rising sun
I like catching the fish and putting them in a net
Fish is a great dish when the table is set
My truck is unstoppable; it can’t beat
I slam the door and strap myself in the seat
I start the engine and press the gas to the floor
My truck takes off and my engine lets out a roar
I wouldn’t be able to hunt or fish if it wasn’t for my truck
With it I carry poles, guns, and my fallen buck
I pull my boat with my truck in four-wheel-drive
At my destination I always arrive
poem by Glaedr the poet
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
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Truck Drivin Song
Im drivin a truck
Drivin a big ol truck
Pedal to the metal, hope I dont run out of luck
Rollin down the highway until the break of dawn
Drivin a truck with my high heels on
My diesel rig is northward bound
Its time to put that hammer down
Just watchin as the miles go flyin by
Im ridin twenty tons of steel
But its sure hard to hold the wheel
While Im waiting for my nails to dry
Oh, I always gotta check my lipstick in that rear view mirror
And my pink angora sweater fits so tight
Im jammin gears and haulin freight
Well, I sure hope my seams are straight
Lord, dont let my mascara run tonight
Because Im drivin a truck
Drivin a big ol truck
Smokeys on my tail and my accelerators stuck
Got these eighteen wheels-a-rollin until the break of dawn
Drivin a truck with my high heels on
Oh, I dont mind when my crotchless panties creep right up on me
And my nipple rings dont bother me too much
But when I hit those big speed bumps
My darling little rhinestone pumps
Keep slippin off the mother-lovin clutch
But still Im drivin a truck
Drivin a big ol truck
Headin down the interstate, just tryin to make a buck
Wearin feather boas with sequins and chiffon
While Im drivin a truck with my high heels on
Im drivin a truck
Drivin a truck
Got a load to carry and some eyebrows left to pluck
And Im late for my appointment down at my hair salon
So Ill be drivin a truck with my high heels on
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Men Just Go Fishing
When a young man's fancy, turns to desire,
An old man just goes fishing.
It takes too long to stoke that fire,
And what's the use in wishing.
So I pull out my rods, pull out my reels,
And go kick my old truck's tires.
Unlike with love, I won't miss meals,
And I won't put out no fires.
I'll just make sure my tackle box,
Is bursting at the seams,
No fancy cars I love old trucks,
No women in my dreams.
I'd rather be fishing any old day,
Not to say women are fickle.
And above all I just must say,
Fish won't slap when you tickle.
2/22/12 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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My brother tipped up on some luck,
And bought himself a brand new truck.
The truck was black,
And had great knack.
And my brother did not owe a buck.
quote by by Walterrean Salley
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Your Fishing Pole
There is something about you, something in your soul
something that seems to surround your fishing pole….
You moved to the coast, now that’s no lie
And we had a hard time with that little goodbye
But no need for heartache, no need to console
You had your boat and your fishing pole.
You know everyday you go out to fish
it’s like a genie granting every little wish
every time that bobber goes out of control
we know you are happy with your fishing pole.
Now on birthdays it’s special out on the water
I hear if you’re there, they’ll jump for the slaughter
You’ll be piling them in like your lucks on a roll
Reeling them in with your fishing pole
So today of all days take heed and relax
Pack up a cooler with drinks and some snacks
put on your shoes and go take a stroll
Down to your boat with your fishing pole.
poem by Kathleen J. Shields
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Hot
she was hot, she was so hot
I didn't want anybody else to have her,
and if I didn't get home on time
she'd be gone, and I couldn't bear that-
I'd go mad. . .
it was foolish I know, childish,
but I was caught in it, I was caught.
I delivered all the mail
and then Henderson put me on the night pickup run
in an old army truck,
the damn thing began to heat halfway through the run
and the night went on
me thinking about my hot Miriam
and jumping in and out of the truck
filling mailsacks
the engine continuing to heat up
the temperature needle was at the top
HOT HOT
like Miriam.
leaped in and out
3 more pickups and into the station
I'd be, my car
waiting to get me to Miriam who sat on my blue couch
with scotch on the rocks
crossing her legs and swinging her ankles
like she did,
2 more stops. . .
the truck stalled at a traffic light, it was hell
kicking it over
again. . .
I had to be home by 8,8 was the deadline for Miriam.
I made the last pickup and the truck stalled at a signal
1/2 block from the station. . .
it wouldn't start, it couldn't start. . .
I locked the doors, pulled the key and ran down to the
station. . .
I threw the keys down. . .signed out. . .
your goddamned truck is stalled at the signal,
I shouted,
Pico and Western. . .
. . .I ran down the hall,put the key into the door,
opened it. . .her drinking glass was there, and a note:
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Where Does my Inspiration Lie
As I drive my truck each day I wonder what it is I will see today?
Each day brings something new for my eyes and ears
From state to state, from coast to coast what new things will I see this day?
The sunrises from my front window to my back from day to day
The colors are different each and every day from that sunrise
The scenery is never the same even though I’ve been here dozens of time
Where does my inspiration lie?
Some people have to get up to go to work and it is the same old thing day after day
But here in my old truck things are not that way.
I look forward to the days drive and the sites I’ll see and just what’s ahead of me
I have been very lucky to be able to travel and see this most beautiful land
The seasons change and I drive from season to season for just that reason
The seasons are never quite the same the colors are very bright with the changes
Where does my inspiration lie?
The people I meet, the things I’ve seen God you have blest me through my travels
Snow on the mountain peaks, creeks where fish are seen, great rivers miles long
Mother bears teaching her young to fish, deer’s, antelopes, long horned mountain goats
Flowers in a field of gold, windmills that you make go fast in the breath of your wind
Craters that have fallen from the sky large enough to make a hugh bright blue lake
Cactus that bloom in the hot desert sun, sand storms that scared us to death
Where does my inspiration lie?
My inspiration lies in you God where all that is, you have made each and every day
My inspiration lies in you my Lord for what I’ve seen you have made
My inspiration lies in your grace and beauty your love and mercy that you give me
My inspiration lies in the songs I hear from the morning dove that coos by my window
My inspiration lies in the evening skies as it bids us good night with the colors so bright
My inspiration lies in your son God who came here so we would be able to see your face
Where does my inspiration lie?
poem by Gloria Comingore
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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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Old King
King went a-runnin after deer
Wasnt scared of jumpin off the truck in high gear
King went a-sniffin and he would go
Was the best old hound dog I ever did know.
I had a dog and his name was king
I told the dog about everything
There in my truck the dog and i
Then one day the king up and died.
Then I thought about the times we had
Once when I kicked him when he was bad
Old king sure meant a lot to me
But that hound dog is history.
King went a-runnin after deer
Wasnt scared of jumpin off the truck in high gear
King went a-sniffin and he would go
Was the best old hound dog I ever did know.
That old king was a friend of mine
Never knew a dog that was half as fine
I may find one, you never do know
cause I still got a long way to go.
I had a dog and his name was king
I told the dog about everything
Old king sure meant a lot to me
But that hound dog is history.
King went a-howlin after deer
Wasnt scared of jumpin off the truck in high gear
King went a-sniffin and he would go
Was the best old hound dog I ever did know.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On An April Evening In The Fall
With folded wings the fishing gannets plunge into the sea
And the nuggety old man with fishing rod was waiting patiently
For a fish to bite as the incoming waves splashed quite close to his feet
And each new wave it came surging in as each old wave did retreat.
Have you been catching many fish today? of the fisherman I inquired
Not been doing too well today mate the old fellow replied
I've yet to catch a fish today, sometimes in the rising tide
From cover they don't venture out between the rocks they hide.
I'll stay another hour he said at least until twilight
The wife would like a good sized fish to cook for tea tonight
Still I don't like my chances much it's a quarter after four
I'll stay till a quarter after five and not one second more
The silver gulls cry on the beach the angry ocean roar
The gannets fishing on the bay, the old man from the shore
And people walking on the beach before their evening tea
On a sunny evening in April in the Fall by the Pacific sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Lonesome Ranger
I'm traveling in this beat up pick up truck.
The back seat door doesn't even open up.
Each and every day I have no clue where I'm going.
But still I'm on my way.
To new air, new places, new faces.
How do you do stranger?
I feel like the lonesome ranger.
Working along the highway all day.
People driving by saying all kinds of things.
Asking the occasional amonish and farmer for one or two favors.
A place to park the trucks, a place to get up and start.
One, Two, Three, and it's ready set go.
I'm traveling in this beat up pick up truck.
The back seat door doesn't even open up.
Each and every day I have no clue where I'm going.
But still I'm on my way.
To new air, new places, no faces.
How do you do stranger?
I feel like the lonesome ranger.
The night comes and the sun is gone.
The stars mark the way.
I can see the city lights before I arrive.
God their so bright.
Which bar am I going too?
With the money that has been made.
It is time to celebrate.
The weekend has come and soon my brian will be gone.
Hooking up with another one stand.
Cause nobody want to be with a man that is never home.
I'm traveling in this beat up pick up truck.
The back seat door doesn't even open up.
Each and every day I have no clue where I'm going.
But still on my way.
To new air, new places, no faces.
How do you do stranger?
I feel like the lonesome ranger.
From the mountain, to the backwoods, and rivers, down to the valley of Pennsylvania.
I would never leave this place not for all the gold in the world.
A mix of every culture, from the all these Catholic Yanks, to the invading spanish and indians, to rednecks that seem more backwards then the ones from the south, to the everlasting Mennonites.
The whole state is covered in all kinds of trees.
So much variety a place that always makes me happy.
I'm traveling in this beat up pick up truck.
The back seat door doesn't even open up.
Each and every day I have no clue where I'm going.
But still on my way.
To new air, new places, no faces.
How do you do stranger?
I feel like the lonesome ranger.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is it really like fishing?
They say there is many fish in the sea to choose from.
But have you ever gone fishing?
They say do not worry they are like fish you lose one then get a fresh one.
But have you actually gone fishing?
They say you can be picky when fishing your fish.
But have you been in the sea and fished?
They even say some actually smell like fish.
But have you really smelled a fish?
They say there is plenty of fish in the sea.
But have you actually gone and counted the fish in the sea?
They say once you catch that perfect fish, you are bound for a good life.
But have you caught that perfect fish they all speak of?
They say some fish can be beautiful.
But have you seen any beautiful fish?
How can one compare a fish?
They are not alike.
How can one say it is as easy as finding a fish?
It is not a simple task.
How can they say there are so many fish in the sea?
When there are so many fishers who have yet to catch.
Can you really compare life and love to a fish?
The answer is of course not.
You can’t.
Impossible.
Unreal.
Not imaginable.
Unbelievable.
Unrealistic.
A fairy tale.
poem by ReubenJames Rodriguez
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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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Country Comfort
Soon the pines will be falling everywhere
As the village children fight each other for their share
And the six-o-nine goes roaring past the creek
As Deacon Lee prepares his sermon for next week
I saw Grandma yesterday down at the store
Well she's really doing fine for eighty-four
And she asked me if sometime I could fix her barn
The poor old girl she needs a hand to run that farm
Chorus:
And it's good old country comfort in my bones
It's the sweetest sound these ears have ever known
It's just an old-fashioned feeling fully-grown
Country comfort and a truck that's goin' back home
Oh it's goin' back home
Down at the well they've got a new machine
The foreman says it'll cut manpower by fifteen
"Hey but that ain't natural" old Clay would say
You see he's a horse-drawn man until his dying day
(REPEAT CHORUS TWICE)
Country comfort and a truck that's goin' back home
Whoa, it's goin' back home
Hey take me back home
And a truck, and a truck that's goin' back home
Any truck
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My First Fishing Trip
Went with dad to Port Isabel to learn to fish,
‘Cause to catch a fish I told him that I did wish.
So to Purdy’s Court fishing pier,
We went with all our fishing-gear.
Yes, that fishing trip with dad I’ll always cherish!
There we were, him giving me casting instruction,
Then he baited my hook with a live crustacean,
I cast out high in the sky.
To catch a big fish to fry,
But instead, caught a sea gull - as consolation!
poem by Bobby Beddoe
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Bettys Got A Bass Boat
(bernie nelson/craig wiseman)
Now betty was your average ordinary girl
Never wanted very much out of this world
Just an occasional dinner and twirl, from a regular guy
So betty sat up one lonely night
Trying to figure out what a man might like
Then like a bolt right out of the blue, she got herself a plan
Bettys got a bass boat, bettys got a truck, all of a sudden things are looking up
Shes the most popular girl in town, since she got a new camper and a huntin hound
Might be coincidental, oh you just might never know
Oh, but things sure got a lot better since betty got a bass boat
Now lately getting a date isnt all that hard
Theres a half a dozen bubbas fightin in the yard
She won em over with her southern charm, and a satellite dish
Now betty cant believe her popularity
Shes thinkin bout marketing her recipe
So ironic and the funny thing is, she never even liked to fish
Bettys got a bass boat, bettys got a truck, all of a sudden things are looking up
Shes the most popular girl in town, since she got a new camper and a huntin hound
Might be coincidental, oh you just might never know
Oh, but things sure got a lot better since betty got a bass boat
Shes got bowling shoes, she cant lose
Shes got those boys just blowin their fuse
Shes got a big screen, shes in the in scene
Theyre ever gonna make her strawberry queen
Bettys got a bass boat, bettys got a truck, all of a sudden things are looking up
Shes the most popular girl in town, since she got a new camper and a huntin hound
Might be coincidental, oh you just might never know
Oh, but things sure got a lot better since betty got a bass boat
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hole In The Wall
(alan jackson/jim mcbride)
Theres a hole in the wall
Where a nail used to be
A nail that held a picture of
The one that once held me
Now that walls tellin me
What I dont wanna hear
Im tired of the word fool
Ringin in my ears
Oh I guess a saner man
Would simply paint it
But Im not sane and after all
Its my wall, aint it
Ive got this hammer in my hand
And when Im through
Therell be a hole in that wall
Big enough to drive a truck through
When you lose the greatest love
Youve ever had
A little hole in the wall
Is enough to drive you mad
Oh I guess a saner man
Would simply paint it
But Im not sane and after all
Its my wall, aint it
Ive got this hammer in my hand
And when Im through
Therell be a hole in that wall
Big enough to drive a truck through
Oh Ive got this hammer in my hand
And when Im through
Therell be a hole in that wall
Big enough to drive a truck through
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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031510c All I Want Is Other Side
i could break out my fishing reel now
prop myself by bridge's wall and fish
while i watch you, you guys in despair
i could even take out my cooler and chair
this difficulty could be ease with mono rail
but so many hands, minds on the trail
oh! my! what's that ambulance doing here
not this early morning, please oh! my dear
no i'm not counting the fishing boats bobbing
i wonder though what kind of fish they're catching
blue crabs, sea bass, blues, spot, maybe flounder
that's a rough life, awake all night waiting for biter
those seagulls teasing bipeds again or begging
i remember they have to control their population
because of their unsightly droppings on your cars
there must be a group of smart person to figure
without offsetting the environmental coexistance
i'm not too concern, i just want to go to the other side
poem by Manonton Dalan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fishing, Joke On Love
Love is like fishing
It’s a kind of sport, try it and you'll see on what you’re missing
Once caught, it’s all hugs and kissing
And memories of when it happened, reminiscing
When that alarm goes of
And you’ve got one on the hook
There’s nothing that will stop
Or that will help from a book
You just got to lean back and hold onto your net
And hope that you are man enough to hope it don’t get away
Because if you do you will be filled with regret
And on that fishing lake you have to wait and stay
So keep your fish in our grasp
Don’t let it slip out of your clasp
Cause it can happen in a second so fast
So when you get that fish make that experience last
Fish the Fish
fish makes every fish catch, the tail that
smell like fish as the angler bait its fishing
rod bit each heart beat, the triumphant
heart break its brake the nylon cord that
hold the hook that synchronize the timing
swings of each hand lifting as it goes
catching the net as it swing in the thread
that fishes the fish
strength hold on, tie so quick on, leave no
loose every cost is to repulse, time is
sweeten in the fish in the table all are
refresh, every fisherman switch the light in
the kitchen the kittle, the cool plate and the
fire is burning on
sweet smells like a baby, in every nose so
shiny, in every dinning table everybody is
happy ready to take like party, now all
hands should hold, and bring every magical
strength enfold, the fish is in the running
water waiting for us to carry in every heart,
please prepare the place, the net is
empty …… come and fish the fish
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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