Fishing poems for fishing lovers. Fishing poetry describes the fun and adventure about recreational fishing, while some poets like to go for the fishing for poems. Fishy poems are often related to fish or fishing but there are other poems too which describe messy situations rather in a funny way. For some poets fishing and poetry are the integral parts of their lives. They express their love for fishing in the form of poems about fishing. In our collection of fishing poems, one can read these lovely verses about fishing in which poets have narrated their fishing experiences with family and friends in an enormous ocean or in the nearby river or lake. There are poems about the fishing techniques and blunders to be enjoyed with a laugh.
The man who sits in solitude So as not to judge and condemn others, gains humility, An attribute truly favoured by God. A man who sits in a gathering to quarrel, and cast Aspersions on the righteousness & sanctity of
Gulls swarm above the lake, clockwise and counter hundreds of miles from the sea, just a step below the unclothed mountain shoulders, they churn swerve near each other like some game, my brother tells me he wouldn’t be surprised if
A sparkling path was chosen by one, providing mature wines for the cultured, elegant polished restaurants, operas of critical acclaim, endless parties for the ordained elite, cars which navigated and spoke, manicured sprawling homes, and… Shoes… closets and closets of
Quietly, you wandered into my thoughts Your silhouette in repose Like a painting A fishing boat stationary in the sunset Silently, you crept into my dreams Nestled softly in my arms Wisps of your hair Caressing your face in the
Winging my way through the air; high in the Cascade Mountain Range. With a serene wilderness lake just below me. Reflecting an exquisite brilliant sunrise of various shades of yellows, oranges, and golden hues. Reflected upon the glassy placid surface.
Dragonfly on the rock. Daydreams in the sky. Men that matter on the deck. Women a far cry. Children fishing on the rocks, gathering crabs that claw. Picking nets of blue synthetic, meshed like entwined twine. Twirling networks on ship
On the shorelines of the Adam’s River, Bald and golden Eagles from near and far line the meandering river’s embankments. Salmon struggling upstream to spawn. Chancing the elements. Bald and golden eagles are screaming in delight, as they eloquently glide
We were the best of friends All summer long and through the fall and winter Cruising through the worlds we knew On beat-up bikes in faded jeans and sneakers Weaving in and out of high adventure Knee deep in grassy
If one day I’m caught waltzing to bed with drunken imaginings of the gates of Heaven, gilded in virtuous hues of golden rays, allow me to stumble over the reindeer slippers I purposely left out in the open. I’ll know
The Violin Maker awakes and heats his glue in a coffee can rigged on a hotplate. He is aged and stiff like his wood piles of it stacked and waiting spruce special ordered from Ohio oak pieces from a broken
I ran away from you to strange cities. But at every corner, I ran into you. The fresh sea water carried whiffs of you. The little boys on bicycles spoke in your voice. The surf tickled my toes with your
Look at these lines – fishing for compliments – Hooked, they drag us back. Leave us squirming on the dry bank: Palpitating, bruised from the fight. Removing the pin from the mouth It’s a painful business. But worthwhile. Who’ll throw
From the lakes in New Hampshire to the sand dunes of Cape Cod. From the mountains of Vermont to the seaports of Rhode Island. From the rocky seacoast of Maine to the Gold Coast of Connecticut. Winters of snow and
Our river wasn’t a clean river, a mountain stream, a babbling brook, or a silver girl. It was a filthy river, a city river, forsaken, neglected. Long gone, the glory days, when it was thick with trout and where, according
Greying streets whisper cold dust, a different time Their utterance echoes,carves on my glass mind. They hush a hymn so soft, it dangles like innocence, from an old child. I, an antique vase made to their design. Greying streets whisper,
An indecipherable cause brought us here may as well blame the overwhelming stink of bacon in the building lobby, that day I decided, my future didn’t contain forty years of accountancy unquiet stomach, unquiet mind Thus all ships sail, even
The silent moment of an hour, The rustle of cool breeze round the ear, Commemorating the past, Escorts a smile on the face with joy bubbling in the Heart… Tests of fears and success, Bulbous all over the head, Spawning
At the time of divorce, they asked me “With whom do you want to live, my child?” I looked at my parents…….. wondering What my life would be After their painful separation They always mention How hard it’s for them
Slither into my skin, Draped in this night absorbing the mist, tasting my sweat and blood and painting your face in my wetness! While crossing the road to the sun You can’t leave my lusty fiddles kissing your bewitched lips…
Do you sometimes feel like Seeing the color of your emotions? Touching them, Maybe smelling them too? Imagine the urge to kiss Displayed in bright Fuschia Feeling like satin Smelling like vanilla Imagine your helplessness Painted in Yellow Feeling like
One vein in the temple swells and pulses in rhythm As thou know growing pain hurts more than normal pain Yearning for success,end seems so close though Iffy am I getting closer or getting far from now Waiting at the
Of a sleepless night, a moment did rise, With tears in my eyes and darkness to hide; The memories of you buried somewhere, Wanting to escape and be free again; Closing my eyes and losing in time, You were there
Gaze into the mirror at the face behind the mask and wonder if it’s really you, or don’t you dare to ask? Who can know what lies beyond the mirrors fragile face, reflections of another life; another time or place?
Democracy Is no longer What it used to be… Democracy was Government Of the people; By the people; And, for the people! But, Today, Democracy is… Government Of the people; By politicians— For capitalists!
When the mice roar, Even the lions squeak All those who had mocked And dismissed the meek Now scream in fear And in terror, cower As there happens a monumental Shift in luck, in power. For those who are on
Looking down, I can see only one thing… Darkness as far as it goes, not even a blink, Life’s an eternal abyss, I learnt today; Winners see the light, quitters kicked away… Myself was a winner (or so I thought),
I am precious to both kingdoms, both dark and light. I carry power and potential to grow both kingdoms, so both sides are fighting for me. The one king offers: Temporary satisfaction and happiness, but neglects me when I am
The human? That is not a question mark, but purely a contemplative issue. Dilemma, bridge connecting light from dark. And timelessness, cocooned in timely tissue. Recumbent on duality of mind, pulled multiple directions by his cares, the human, guilty, slumbers