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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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
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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A Bad Day Of Fishing
A bad day of fishing,
Can go a long way.
It beats a good day of work,
Any old day.
Nothing beats fishing, I guarantee,
Listen to what I say.
If you don't like fishing, you'll still agree,
Have a bad fishing day.
11/3/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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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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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Burrs In My Pants
Burrs in my pants,
Thorns in my shoes.
Fishing this lake,
Just gives me the blues.
The fish are not biting,
And thats a fact.
Maybe it's time,
I headed back.
All that I got,
From my fishing trip.
Were burrs in my pants,
And sunburned lips.
I guess this fishing trip,
Was meant to fail.
When the burrs started sticking,
To my tail.
10/10/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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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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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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Big Sky Fishing
Listen very closely and hear that distant splash
Maybe just a big catfish moving out of his nest
When the golden rays of a sunrise hit the water
Time to pull one in because it's fishing at its best
Memories of big sky fishing come flooding back
When I think on my historical family traditions
For this brings to me inner peace and much joy
Big Sky Fishing happens without any conditions
poem by John McCornack
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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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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)
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Women
Women behind bars, women in fast cars, women in distress, women with no dress
Women in airplanes, women who play games
Women in uniform, see that woman with her clothes gone
Women who satisfy, women you cant buy
Like women in magazines, and women in a limousine
Women who sip champagne, women who feel no pain
Women in a disco, and women who dont wanna know, no no
Oh, women wanting sympathy, women feeling extacy
Women who live in fantasies, bringing man to his knees
Women who boil to love, women who need a shove
Women who cant be beat, get that woman in the back seat, yeah yeah
Women in the usa, those women steal your heart away
Women into rock n roll, women who steal the show, go go go
Women that you write songs about, women that turn around and kick you out
Women you dream about all your life
Women that stab you in the back with a switchblade knife
Oh women, oohoo, talking bout women, all round the world
Yeah women, all the naughty girls, talking bout women, come on baby
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Hedgerow Inferno
Tiny pools with water,
For two or three fish,
To be comfortable in,
While constantly being poached,
By the sadistic red knomes,
And there thin lines of fishing rods,
The hedgerow is an inferno,
Or danger for unsuspecting,
Tresspassers or wellwishing,
Truants and bullies,
The fish would only spit at them,
If they could and the knomes,
Give up their idle fishing,
In pursuit of a more,
Interesting past time.
poem by Nick Hilton
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Women
I love women, I think theyre great
Theyre a solace to the world in a terrible state
Theyre a blessing to the eyes, a balm to soul
What a nightmare to have no women in the world
I love women
I love women
I love women
We all love women
I used to look at women in the magazines
I know that it was sexist, but I was in my teens
I was very bitter, all my sex was on the sly
I couldnt keep my hands off women, and I wont till I die
I love women
Ah, I love women
We love women
We all love women
A womans love can lift you up, and women can inspire
I feel like buying flowers and hiring a celestial choir
A choir of castratis to serenade my love
Theyd sing a little bach for us and then wed make love
I love women
I love women
We all love women
We love women
song performed by by Lou Reed
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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Shoot To Thrill
All you women who want a man of the street
But you dont know which way you wanna turn
Just keep a coming and put your hand out to me
cause Im the one whos gonna make you burn
Im gonna take you down - down, down, down
So dont you fool around
Im gonna pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women with too many pills
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
Yeah
Im like evil, I get under your skin
Just like a bomb thats ready to blow
cause Im illegal, I got everything
That all you women might need to know
Im gonna take you down - yeah, down, down, down
So dont you fool around
Im gonna pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women with too many pills
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
cause I shoot to thrill, and Im ready to kill
I cant get enough, I cant get the thrill
I shoot to thrill, play to kill
Yeah, pull the trigger
Pull it, pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Oh
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women, with too many pills
I said, shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
cause I shoot to thrill, and Im ready to kill
And I cant get enough, and I cant get my thrill
cause I shoot to thrill, play it again
Yeah
Shoot you down
Yeah
Im gonna get you to the bottom and shoot you
Im gonna shoot you
Oh hoo yeah yeah yeah
Im gonna shoot you down yeah yeah
Im gonna get you down
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Shoot you, shoot you, shoot you, shoot you down
Shoot you, shoot you, shoot you down
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ooooooh
Im gonna shoot to thrill
Play to kill
Shoot to thrill
Yeah, ooh yeah
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Battle Of Wits
A man who, tired but awake
came to the shore of Deerhorn Lake,
his wife could tell he had not caught
a single fish. When he had bought
those lures and poles and fancy reels
he'd talked about delicious meals
that they would have once he would go
onto the lake just like a pro.
He told her then he'd go and snooze
inside the house (there would be booze) .
So, off she went with boat and gear
and half a pack of Coor's cold beer.
She reached the centre and released
the anchor of the large-hulled beast.
She reached for the big fishing guide
when there was movement at her side.
Inspectors do patrol these regions
and with the Law is their allegiance.
'What may I ask is your intent,
'it's out of season, early Lent? '
And staring at her ample breast
he added 'I will now arrest
you for the fishing here today
and for this crime you sure will pay.'
'I am not fishing, Sir, I read
each day here on this boat, indeed.
As you can see, the gear is here
I haven't even touched the beer.'
'I do not care', said he with glee,
'you have the means and don't fool me,
you are out here to catch the fishes
instead of home with dirty dishes.'
'If you arrest me, I will scream
and tell your whole inspector team
that I was trying to escape
and you will face the charge of rape.'
'How dare you, lady talk such rot
are you on uppers, coke or pot?
There was no sign of sex, I say
the courts will lock your life away.'
'You have equipment and the tools,
I'm sure that all the legal fools
will see that sex was your intent,
may God have mercy, do repent! '
Without a word the man then turned
as far as he was now concerned
he'd lost the battle of the wits,
he would remember though, her tits.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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