Fishing on Tulsa Time
The Guard approached me and said No!
There is absolutely no fishing here today
So I slowly took my line out of water
As I knew this was not a time to play
To all the fish I looked ever so hopefully
Wishing I could feel their tug on my line
But the Guard explained this is an aquarium
And fishing in here is a punishable crime
poem by John McCornack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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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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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Who Caught Whom...A Shameless Plug For Mr. Wiffle Lures
I used to go fishing everyday....
well practically everyday....
Me and my buddy Jeff
would fish either day or night
Everyday....weather permitting
As a manufacturer of fishing lures
it was my job to fish....
But Jeff grew old...too old to cast a line
and I was poisoned when mistaken for a rat....
and lost my sea legs...
So now I am landlocked to a desk
Yet still.....even today....
I have people write or call me
and ask me for our lures....
'Which Mr. Wiffle works the best? '
they always ask....
'What is your favorite color? '
'Do you like the White with Red tail
or prefer like I do the White with Red head?
Or does it really matter...I mean they all work? '
We'll talk sometimes for hours
I'll give them my opinions....
What I would use and when....
knowing full well
I will probably never go fishing again....
They always thank me for my time
and promise to send me pictures
of their catch....or tell me of the one that got away...
Speaking of the one that got away....
Last night I had a dream...
I had just made a perfect cast into a swirl I saw in the water
(introduce shameless plug for lure here)
As my White with Red tail Mr. Wiffle Sonic Tail shad.....
slowly swam beneath the water's surface....
a ten pound plus Speckled Trout placed...his two pointed teeth
into the soft virgin plastic of that fine quality World famous lure
and took off.....stripping line like mad from my reel....
I was so excited to have hooked this fish....
even if I knew I would never land him....
2007 © Ted Sheridan
poem by Ted Sheridan
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Fish Fever
This week end I went fishing
A fish in mind to catch
I went wishing, wishing, wishing
To catch a perfect catch
I wanted to catch the big one
The one that always gets away
I waited under the hot, hot sun
I waited for that fish all day
Then there was a pull on my line
The pull so full of magic
It made me think mine, mine, mine
Me, the fisherwoman classic
This fish was big I could feel
Big and strong, a winners tale
All I had to do was reel, reel, reel
In order not to fail
Me and this fish fought a moment
Tugging and yanking, pulling and reeling
Until I screamed net! Net! NET!
Is this a winners feeling?
In that moment I knew that it was this
The moment I caught the one that got away
I caught it, I caught it, I caught it
Fishing fever is what I caught that day
poem by Cheré Mason
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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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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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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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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
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Joy of Fishing
Oh how I enjoyed so very much
Fishing off a bridge
Or perhaps ‘long side the road
Or from up on a slight ridge
I remember many years ago
On the first day of the season
Going out before daylight
Getting my limit was the reason
Cold when I would paddle out
In a small and rented boat
And if I caught lots of fish
Oh, how I loved to gloat
But it was fun, I remember
As I tossed the long line out
And when I’d feel that tug
I’d wait to give a mighty shout
Until that little fish was on
And I’d nailed him on the spot
It was so much fun, my friend
Especially if he really fought
By the afternoon it was hot
So a cold drink I’d be wishing
And ready to go out again
For the ultimate joy of fishing!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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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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My Fishing Hole
I'm going down to my fishing hole,
Got my tackle box, and Garcia pole.
Gonna catch a mess of fish for lunch,
Fry em up in my pan, I love that crunch.
With a bitsy minnow on my line,
I'll catch enough, so all can dine.
Hoping for blue gills and sunfish too,
I love fishing that's what I do.
I got a sandwich and a couple of beers,
I do love fishing, I hold it dear.
Look at this fishing hole, what a beautiful sight,
Hold on, hold on now, I got a bite.
11/16/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Renda Writer - The Other Line
I saw a man
Fishing
Off the side of the pier
Fishing for a fish
And then...
His cell phone rang
He picked it up
And began talking
Cell phone in one hand
Fishing pole in the other
And then...
The tip of his pole
Started bending
He got a bite
And then...
He said
To the person on the phone
'Let me call you back,
I've got someone on the other line'
poem by Renda Writer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fishing in the Wei River
In waters still as a burnished mirror's face,
In the depths of Wei, carp and grayling swim.
Idly I come with my bamboo fishing-rod
And hang my hook by the banks of Wei stream.
A gentle wind blows on my fishing-gear
Softly shaking my ten feet of line.
Though my body sits waiting for fish to come,
My heart has wandered to the Land of Nothingness.
Long ago a white-headed man
Also fished at the same river's side;
A hooker of men, not a hooker of fish,
At seventy years, he caught Wen Wang.
But I, when I come to cast my hook in the stream,
Have no thought either of fish or men.
Lacking the skill to capture either prey,
I can only bask in the autumn water's light.
When I tire of this, my fishing also stops;
I go to my home and drink my cup of wine.
031210 A Set And A Round
i meet this guy today
for so many years
we used to fish the bay
we drape the sea with nets
caught from flounder to snake
night time when all were asleep
he is visiting from florida
to take care his grands in area
i was surprise he hadn't age bit
i was told fishing is the secret
oh! would i have to buy gill net
to trap those fish as they fled
what will i do with fish, give away
yes, just what we do previously
i have done my fishing journeys
i shifted to playing golf and tennis
few dollars i could buy few pounds
and i could play a set and a round
poem by Manonton Dalan
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TRIOLET: It Got Away
-
When going fishing as a child
the line seemed like a beam of light-
the woods, my mind, were bramble wild
when going fishing as a child.
I cast as far as those exiled
but boyhood soared, then sank from sight.
When going fishing as a child
the line seemed like a beam of light.
poem by Glenn Bagshaw
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Steal
A fishing rod
Stretch into the fishing pond slightly
Sneaking the child
Look around furtively
He did not see
I was at the window
Seeing him
knocked on the window
Ran away the child
Leave a fishing rod
I saw a mouse
Run away like a rushing smoke
The fishing rod
Hung on the iron railing and swayed
Nor fish no fishing rod
The child
The first lesson in life
A cost of stealing
poem by Catherine Yen
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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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Monofilament is what you use to go fishing. The line on your fishing rod is probably going to be black. You get to the end of the line and you tie on this clear plastic, thin thread called monofilament.
quote by John Badham
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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