River-net Fisherman
9 August, 2008
Author: Puppet
The nets are for crawling
Not tangling, no knots in the web
As they are in the arm,
The arm that flees the bosom
With joyous flutter
Like draperies in a window;
Let familiar swings soar long and long
To break the glossy blue
In patterned prints of fisher tulle.
A sizzle splash, a timeless squint,
The stoic sun is staring thunder:
Yea, molting vision that lay witness
To the reeling of the river bed.
------- Author's Notes -------
Imagine an old fisherman casting a net. Then read this poem. |
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Terrye* (67.187.237.233) -- Wednesday, August 13 2008, 05:59 pm i loved this piece- one can truly appreciate that tranquil moment taken/given to fishin' be it by net or pole...its an appreciated art. you pen wonderful poetry! |
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