I pull one out, she pulls out two. Our favorite man baits our hooks and grins. I pull out one. She pulls out two. A picture, smiling softly…drawstring hood surrounds her wrinkles as she poses heavy with fish. My fish are yellow, and they scream….

Whispering poetry to myself in the bath I ponder my day and choke on a laugh at all of the silly little things that you said; how God is alive, and that sky is red and nightmares so troublesome fall from my head. With momma…

If only, the time that keeps us away From each other Would melt and merge into a rainbow And reflect on the puddles .. On the face of the river.. If only, the time I spend with you, Would go into a bubble, And float…

Hey all you plenty of fish in the sea! I have a question for you: what is this bait, and is it worth getting your lips ripped off?

Write a poem about fishing. It doesn’t matter if you have never been fishing before. The poem must contain at least three lines that involve fishing. Everything else is up to you. ————————————————————————————————————————– fishing for reason in a cesspool of lunacy. My line has been…

One, Two, Three,…. fishes read the nursery rhyme. Early risers heading out; in a school. These risers may find a snack yet…The snack was just a quick gasp to their death. A lucky fishermen yells, “what a catch!” You aren’t lucky yet….it might snatch an…

the heel, I grounded, I’m not sure why I careless about it, the start of mountain, pose that is, to become aware of what is impressed in the ground, I hate the roots, I hate the roots because they tell me so many things that…

It never used to be so hard. You called me, ‘beautiful’. You told me you needed me. Now, what difference does wanting make, when fishing for the right words? I cast my line into your pool, yet it does not tickle your appetite. You do…

We sit on the dock and wait For something to pull the line We’ve been at it all day Growing anxious We shift restlessly in our seats Waiting, always waiting Hours drag on and finally there’s a bite Excitement fills us We reel it in…

His stomach watched the trout, With their rainbow fins, Glide like rainclouds in the river. Without a pole or line, That blue eyed boy, That bullet legend, Cocked his hungry gun in desperation. He shot the water; The blast rippled the current And blood and…