Gone Fishing: PhotoPlay and Prompt 2

We enjoy PhotoPlay weeks because it gives us the opportunity to see another side of our talented poets. Each month we’re amazed by the gifts you share with us. Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s PhotoPlay prompt. We said “Go fish,” and you responded.

Here’s a photo by Monica Sharman:

Gone Fishing 2

Here is a poem from Donna we enjoyed:

her bravery

impressed him

she could

   weave a worm guaranteed to arrive in the fish’s mouth intact

          unhook the catch without wincing at blood

               cast her line with a nearly inaudible whir and a plop

               one hundred miles in any direction

        (trees even quaked in their roots)


she was pretty good

for a girl

—by Donna Falcone

And here’s a photo from Donna as well:

Gone Fishing 2

POETRY PROMPT:  Find inspiration from one of the photos you see here and respond with a poem. Leave your poem in the comment box.


Be sure to check out the highlights from Photo Prompt participants on the Photo Play Pinterest board! And keep clicking and/or playing with words.

Photos by Johan M. Wolfhagen, Donna Falcone, and Monica Sharman. Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Heather Eure.


Sometimes we feature your poems in Every Day Poems, with your permission of course. Thanks for writing with us!

Browse more Fishing Poems
Browse PhotoPlay
Browse more Poetry Teaching Resources


  1. says

    Thanks for the photo feature, Heather! To answer your question in the other comment box, the photos (all but one) were taken at Goodwin Lakes (elevation >11,000 ft) at the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in Colorado. For us, we tend to get the best fishing the farther up we hike, because those are the least crowded and least fished places.

    Great prompt, as usual. :)

    • says

      Wonderful pictures, again. Colorado is one of my favorite places. This sea-level gal has a rough time getting used to the elevation. I get winded brushing my teeth. 😀

  2. says

    History Lesson

    At the feeders the finches light,
    then sweep away like dolphins,
    sleek and wet in a glass sea.

    At the kitchen counter lemons,
    cut in quarters, for trout,
    baking in flame-less fire. The silent stars,
    wandering behind their bright faces,

    do not remember us, nights we stood
    torches in hand, attracting the birds
    who had not yet learned to fly.

  3. says

    Swimmingly Good

    In the early hours I stand in solitude, but I’m not alone;
    as the silence calls me nature presents itself as an offering
    and I cannot resist as I ready my rod and reel with a reply.

    With deftly skill and weathered hands I aim my line with
    hope and intention that excites and relaxes me at the same time
    knowing regardless the outcome I have become one with nature.

    The salt sea air rushes through my nasal cavity and the wind
    gently laps my face as I stare intently on my line as I put my
    forefinger on the line to make sure I feel every nuance in the water.

    Suddenly the line becomes taunt and I reply with a swift motion
    now in battle with an unseen creature but by it’s pull and reaction
    can tell I have a fish that I will treasure on my pallet and in my gullet.

    The battle doesn’t last long as I manipulate it closer and closer to me
    landing the fish that I will savor later tonight with it’s succulent flesh
    in butter, garlic, olive oil, and lemon, paired with a nice white wine.

    Copyright by NewLife2008

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *