Daily Fly Fishing Poem #30: The Fish

Well- all things must come to an end, and so I find myself sitting at the computer for the last installment of my Daily Fly Fishing Poem project.   It comes a day late due to some technical difficulties (power outtage a while back), but I hope you can forgive me.   I think I’ve learned some things a long the way, and I hope I sparked a few imaginations, maybe? Thanks for indulging me. I apologize ahead of time for this last one.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #30:The Fish

Like I have before a thousand times,
I cast, far off and fine, a fly.
And so a fish, spotted and speckled
with a galaxy of memories, and diamond dust,
turquoise and rubies and rust,
rose from the blackness into the light,
and drifted and , and…
and when I brought him in
he motioned with a fin, as if
to say come closer.
I leaned in, and he whispered,
“You can keep me, fry me when you take me home,
but please don’t make me into a poem.”

4 Comments on Daily Fly Fishing Poem #30: The Fish

  1. Congratulations on making your goal!

    • John,
      Thanks for the congrats. I thought it would be easier – I surely suffered some brain drain. But it did feel good to set up a goal and achieve it. Some may argue that maybe some of these (or all) are not poetry at all, but history will be the judge (just kidding).

  2. “You can keep me, fry me when you take me home,
    but please don’t make me into a poem.”

    Ah, I have had women say the same thing to me ;). Nice work on these Anthony. Anything overall you learned from the exercise? Just curious…

    • Thanks Cam – but what did I learn? That’s a great question, that deserves a thoughtful answer. I need to think on that a bit. Quickly though – I did learn this -that sometimes when the well seems empty, that is when it produces the best. I’m sure you’ve had those times when you’ve written something and you just don’t know where it came from. You read it back to yourself and it feels as though somebody else must have written it. I had a few of those moments doing this. Sometimes the writing is driven by an idea and then sometimes the ideas are born out of the writing.

what say you?