A poem celebrating getting skunked

Discussion in 'Fly Fishing Forum' started by Mike Brown, Jan 31, 2013.

  1. The fish are laughing at me. I just wrote this poem this morning in anticipation of this Sunday.

    This Time
    Have you been skunked, my friend? And did you mind?
    Tied up a few, packed up the night before.
    This time you’ll bring the rod! You’re out the door
    At four. Streamside by six, and nearly blind

    Before first light, you string your rod and paw
    A size eighteen fly with your freezing mitts.
    This time, perhaps, you’ll get a couple hits!
    This time alone’s a win – no lose or draw.

    Catch fish this time? You think of William Blake.
    A loon laughs eerily at dawn. You hear
    The rustle of the wind. A dipper’s near.
    This time or next, what difference does it make?

    Mike Brown
     
    David Loy, wadin' boot and Lex Story like this.
  2. That's lovely Mike. Thanks for sharing.

    K
     
  3. More than one poem celebrating getting skunked...at love:

    There was once a flyfisherman from Hoquium
    Who thought it was time to elopium
    He proposed drunk to a barfly in Skamania
    A southern girl named Vah-jania
    She slurred it back- "You muss be Joqium"
     
    Steffan Brown likes this.
  4. Thanks, Kent. My dad, who's 91 this Saturday, is a master of doggerel poetry, and I merely stagger in his footsteps. It's a family tradition, as is fishing. He and my mom were public school teachers, and during their summers off from teaching we left the swelter of New York and went to the Catskills where they would work in a hotel or camp for the season. All those summers, for years, my dad used to take me fishing - seems to me pretty much every day - in a little rowboat, going for bass, perch and bluegill ("sunfish") with a linen line, a bent pin and a breadball. Those were golden years, and these are too. My two younger boys are tying flies actively now, and I have to give them a couple casting lessons (maybe I should take some myself first!). And it's true that I get skunked a lot, but I do hear the loon now and then!

    Mike
     
    Richard Torres likes this.
  5. My dad was a writter and sometimes wrote poetry. He had a notebook where he wrote stuff down. When he died, the notebook disappeared. I sure wish I had it. I would have tried publishing it.

    Also, that poem was all me on Tuesday. Nothing at all, not even a weed stuck on my hook. Thanks for posting
     
  6. "There was a young man from Nantucket,
    Who had a......"

    Oh wait!!!

    I can't say that here!!!! :D
     
  7. Very nice Mike and welcome to the forum.
     
  8. Thank you very much, Richard. I have not participated, really, in any forum before, am not technologically particularly proficient, and so am not really fluent in forum use and so forth. But as a browser I have been very grateful for all the information provided by many of the participants - this is a great group of people, generally very civil and interested in helping each other enjoy our sport. If possible I'll post a poem or a report about a good trip from time to time so I can feel like I'm contributing in some positive way. Again, thanks for the note and the welcome!

    Mike
     

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