We Are At The Pier
We are at the pier
And from there
We watch the
Frozen lake ontario
We had nothing else to do while we were there
So we decided to do
Some ice fishing
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Fishing For Something
Fishing for something, On a lake out west,
But; the only thing biting, Mossies are a pest;
I really came to catch a dozen or so trout,
But had to stop, There's a storm come about.
Fishing for something off their pier,
Up at ballarat. On wendouree weir;
Hope to catch some trevally for tea,
But all I caught was an old shoe, silly me.
Fishing for something, I'll need a net,
Try to catch lobster, if I don't I'll be upset,
So I let out the net, and to my surprise today,
5 lobsters, and 1 cheeky dolphin trying to play.
Fishing for something, a minister will do,
As he preaches to the people, the message so true;
About. Love, and kindness, and helping each other,
And telling them too, to help witness to a brother.
Fishing for something, is what we can do,
Help so many, find a way, and not be in a stew;
Don't judge others, and don't start to fight,
But be caring and sharing, lead them to the light.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Lady Of The Lake
Today I talked
to the old lady
who lives across the way
she said she died
a hundred years ago today
She told me
of the time she saw me
fishing in the lake
I had to laugh
I said
if You've been dead
for a hundred years
it couldn't have been me
you saw fishing in the lake
I'm not even fifty yet
She said
have you ever seen me
walk out of this garden
or talk to anybody else
I said
you've got me there
but like I said
if you died a hundred
years ago today
it couldn't have been me
you saw fishing in the lake
She said
a hundred years ago today
you drowned trying to save me
now it's time to except
that you are dead
poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Another Mike Harris
Tim Hudak: I don’t know you even though you’re a politician,
You should grab some Ontario headlines in your condition,
As premier of Ontario, you could and should change a lot,
Come out from behind the snowbound trees and show us what you got.
Offer us binding referendums and compulsory voting,
Much better than nothing that McGinty is offering and promoting,
Because if you do nothing and stay in the shadows, nothing will change,
I hope someone sends you this poem though it is a little strange.
Our radical ideas will get the establishment upset,
But as Ontario premier, you will have nothing to regret,
It is your best bet if you want to come out from the dark,
Give Ontario and Canada its first real bench mark.
Jan 25th,2011
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Reflections Of A Poet
It is nice to see
The ducks swimming on lake Ontario
The sun is always hot at 12: 00 pm
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Strangers On The Shores
Strangers on the shores
Of Lake Ontario
Swimming away
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mauthe Lake
Long scenic drive to her
a beautiful park and lake
enjoying the crisp fall air
the beautiful fall landscape
the peacefulness she brings
the huge lake so calm this time of the year
a lone canoe with two fishermen afloat
trying to make a few late season catches
the waves so gently wave
the beach deserted, a few hikers here and there
the scenery so gorgeous, mother nature at her best
as I stroll the trails, you could hear a pin drop
the slight wind blowing thru the trees
a few birds still chirping, a few heading south
a squirrel here and there
the brisk air feels good on the face
the smell of fresh rain tingles the nose
as I walk the fishing pier I notice a few fishes
enjoying the lake without hooks harms
so peaceful to walk her mighty landscape
clears the mind and makes you think
how such a wonderful place survived man
as the sunset on the lake, it brings a chilling breeze
night to all who came to enjoy her
maybe I will be back, who know
Mauthe Lake, mother nature's wonderland
a Haven for all to to have peace and mind
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mermaid Song
Today it is
Friday
And I saw
The mermaid
Swimming on
Lake Ontario
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
ten years in exile...
even Lake Ontario holds
a wedge of snow geese
haiku by Chenou Liu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When I was a kid a growing up in Ontario, Canada, Lake Erie was so polluted, I never thought it would ever, EVER be turned around where they could start cleaning it out in my lifetime!
quote by Rick Danko
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Human Factor
I could be rich like a king
but I prefer to live poor
o’ come on Kamran!
you all the time use defenses
to calm the agony
of your unwanted existence
look honey!
there is kid
playing with a ball
in the park
beside the lake
and there is another
fishing at the lake
same gorgeous dawn
might be the one fishing
knows better
how to play the ball
but he is destined
to kill fishes
merely to fill the aching stomach
of his starving siblings
we are predestined
to live a life
we love to live
even we are living in misery
we are blessed with the skills
to change our fate
but are restrained
by the human factor
July 16,2009
poem by Dr Kamran Haider Bukhari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Fishing Poem
A Fishing Poem
He was a gentle old man
Who reluctantly spoke
And he’d sit on the pier
And he’d fish and he’d smoke
His eyes and the lines on his face told a tale
While his leathery hands drew the bait from a pale
This man once a lad on this very wharf stood
And he leapt and he shouted as loud as he could
For each tiddler that wriggled on the end of his hook
With excitement and pride he would offer a look
To everyone passing “hey see what I caught”
And he’d show them his fish and he’d ask what they thought
But a lifetime had passed for that excited, fair boy
Many years filled with heartache, discovery and joy
Countless friends that have gone, fortunes both made and lost
And yes lessons were learned but each came at a cost
Now he sits and he lands every fish with such ease
And in silence he packs up each days end and leaves
Many times I’ve fished by him not so close to offend
And I’ve learned from his actions and regard him a friend
Though we speak very little and trade only a nod
And we focus our stare at the end of a rod
One day I’ll replace him in his spot on this pier
At my side another young face will appear
To ask all of the questions, then it will, be my turn
To quietly say “son, just watch and you’ll learn”
poem by Michael Farmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!