Fishin thoughts

Fishin

Should love be a gentle, misting rain,
I'm searching for the roaring thunder.
It always thunders, when I'm fishin'.
Have fished all my life,
With obsession and complusion.
Yet care not, for fish to eat.

Something sacred about fishing.
Through fishing, I might meet myself,
Before my arrival.
I revel in their size and colors,
Have a short discussion, then release them.
Squinting shimmers of water and love from their eyes.

Fishing has taught my lessons in life.
Letting go, when I let them go.
Humility, when I catch not one.
Learning to swim, as my boat sunk.
There will come a time when all is finished,
Except the fishing.

Fishing is Holy.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said,
'I will so ever trust that what is deep is Holy.'
All of the big ones are caught in deep water.
I have overcome the fear of being lonely.
Never had a lonely day fishin'.

I honeymooned at Lake Sinclair.
The wife didn't wanna come, and yes,
I met my ex-wife on a fishing trip.
If life were indeed fair, fish wouldn't feed.

Barry A. Lanier

I didnt write this, posted by a guy named scorpio. Pretty neat.




There is a place of Quiet Solitude,
but where the senses titillate within every nuance, like raw nerve endings.

Taunt to the excitement of siren surroundings, yet becalmed by sounds of violence.

The ocean crashing against rocks that over time reduce them to rubble and then sand.

Everything vibrant within you and about you, is suddenly heightend by the natural life that pervades your soul.

The crabs scurry to and fro, from beach sand to sea sand, clicking their pincers in a cadence known only to them and their closest predators...while Old Sol lends warmth and brightness through a golden hue.

Baby sea turtles make a break for the surf in their frenzied race for survival.
Possibly faster than at any other time in it's life, zigging and zagging while evading whatever and everything from sea level to the skies. It knows fear but not why, a survival gift from nature.

The sweet scent of lightly salted breezes emanating from southeast winds, while pulsations climb from fishing line through rod and reel and ending in mental psyche, as pitched battle ensues betwween man and a sea bourne quarry,

Thus when the battle is won, there are no loosers as the beautiful lifeform is returned from whence it came and the appreciation of Quiet Solitude is again sampled, before awakening to a crowded beach.
Scorpio

here is another one mother ocean


Mother Mother Ocean,
I can hear your call…Fishing or catching, does it really matter?

I try to concentrate and fish for the big one, and then after awhile, for anything that will bite.

But my real attention is directed towards my wife, and to my little girl playing in the sand.

Sometimes when I want to fish, I end up making sand castles instead.

And when the day is over I am a much happier person for having experienced God’s awesome seashore and experienced it with my family.

If I have a fish to take home to fry, well, that is just icing on the cake. Jaybird