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Daily Fly Fishing Poem #24: Catch and Keep

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Daily Fly Fishing Poem #24: Catch and Keep

Crushed limestone gravel of
The anglers’ lot. Done for the day
and seventeen new fish sweep their tails behind my eyelids.
A mink, an osprey, a great blue heron,
maples that are beginning to think about winter.
It’s catch and release here.
But I’m leaving nothing behind.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #23: Beautiful Stream, No Fish

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Trout by Anthony Naples

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #23: Beautiful Stream, No Fish

There is no escaping the conclusion
that all trout streams are liars–
hustlers with flashing liquid grins
whispering devious, sweet, gurgling fictions,
and selling trinkets of silver, blue, and red–
stolen from the fishes.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #17: The River and the Fish

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Into the Sunset by Anthony Naples

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #17: The River and the Fish

Today the weight that was a fish,
is forgotten. Left to drift
downstream around the bend at sunset.
Around the bend, back to the sea,
a fish who fought me
on the broken mercury
surface of the river,
who fought to stay below.
I cast a broken shadow stooping
to let him go. He swam away
along a sunset colored road.

Trout and Seasons of the Mountain Village

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A while back, I stumbled upon Yoshikazu Fujioka’s website Trout and Seasons of the Mountain Village.  My introduction came not through fishing but through paper models.   I can’t recall where it was, but I saw a post about 3D paper trout models that you could build,  I thought that it would be a fun project to do with the kids (It is, but be patient, it can be tricky). These models are simply amazing. You’ll find trout of Japan and trout of the world.

Amago Paper Model from Trout and Seasons of The Mountain Village

At about the same time I became interested in Tenkara fishing, and coincidentally, Yoshikazu Fujioka, also happens to be Tenkara master, and has a wealth of Tenkara information on his site. Especially interesting, are the many regional Tenkara fly patterns that he has cataloged. Oh yeah, and he is also an accomplished artist, producing beautiful fly fishing related art. So do yourself a favor and explore Trout and Seasons of The Mountain Village.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #16: Council of the Fishes

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Fall Stream by Anthony Naples

I’m a day behind – but it is not my fault, I swear. Last night when I tried to post the daily poem, my hosting service was down. I’ll get another up today to get back on track, so all will be right with the world again.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #16: Council of the Fishes

Last month, I did not remember the winter.
I could not picture the snowy beard,
of winter, there in the fat of midday sun
in summer, but today…

Yes, today the trout are pieces of brilliance
when the curves of their backs have
shaken the cold water,
and they stand arrayed like the sugar maples,
in scarlet and orange
to welcome the coming winter.
I have to admit that maybe
it is not irrational, to consider the
council of the fishes.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #15: Trout Like Seeds

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Trout Seeds by Anthony Naples

With this poem, I’m half way through the Daily Fly Fishing Poem project! I have to think of what to do next.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #15: Trout Like Seeds

Walking up on the stream,
crunching dry grass under my feet,
I’m thinking about the last time it rained.
Pools full of fish, too many fish,
huddled in masses and doing rain dances in
their fishy way.
We drove three hours to fish,
but we don’t take out the rods we
don’t have the heart.

Someday will I walk over dry stream beds
and pick up pods of fish like spent dandelions?
And blow the trout like seeds to float
across the world,
planting trout streams in backyards and
ditches, and along the railroad tracks
and behind the vacant school.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #14: The Drift

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Drift by Anthony Naples

Well, here I am on day 14. I have to admit it’s getting a bit tough. But I’m determined to stick it out till the end of the month. If anybody wants to throw any themes my way for future poems feel free.

Daily Fly Fishing Poem #14: The Drift

Sometimes the perfect cast, brings up a trout
as thick around as your leg,
with black spots the size of thumb ends,
and the fish tips up and drifts downstream,
watching, waiting, inspecting,
you say to him quietly “Take it, take it.”
You hold your breath, and reach
downstream as far as you can,
to extend the drift and
you know it can’t last much longer…