Some days, the hobby of fishing could be considered less a sport and more of a discipline of quiet contemplation. So relax and unwind a bit with us. The fish don’t seem to be in a hurry.
Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here is a poem from Prasanta we enjoyed:
Watching waves crest and sink
Surfing down summer’s summit
They cast time-worn nets
Catch fleeting dreams before they slip and enfold
into deep waters–
Before they meld into sandy shore
Pulling out enough for the current day
They sift through the granular bucket-list
Of final plans
Before gasping for air.
PhotoPlay Prompt: Capture a photograph of someone (or something) fishing. Whether they’re searching for actual fish is entirely up to you. Slow down and take your time. Don’t alert anyone to your presence. Wait patiently while you “fish” for the perfect shot.
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NOTE TO POETS: Looking for your Monday poetry prompt? On Photo Play weeks, it’s right here. Find inspiration from the photo in the post and respond with a poem. Leave your poem in the comment box. We’ll be reading. 
Photo by Spyros Papaspyropoulos. Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Heather Eure.
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Sometimes we feature your poems in Every Day Poems, with your permission of course. Thanks for writing with us!
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Amy says
Angling for a Notion
http://amyglamos.tumblr.com/post/94433998880/angling-for-a-notion-i-wonder-sometimes-in-the
Heather Eure says
Thank you for sharing your photo and poem with us, Amy. We can relate to those murky depths.
Amy says
Thanks, Heather.
Donna says
Really nice, Amy. In your image I love how the fishing pole catches the light. 🙂
Amy says
Thank you, Donna.
Prasanta says
I am very honored to have my poem posted here. Thank you so much.
Heather Eure says
We’re glad you’re here!
Donna says
Prasanta I really like your poem… especially the imagery of the granular bucket list of final plans. Ohhhh.
Prasanta says
I appreciate that Donna; thank you.
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
So glad you’re here. Your poem is a treasure. Thank you.
Donna says
I hope it’s okay to share an older image, taken in May 2014, not today, on a day that was so silent I could almost hear the fog lifting.
http://thebrightersideblog.blogspot.com/2014/08/morning-mass.html
Prasanta says
Donna, this image is breathtaking.
Laurie Flanigan says
I agree with Prasanta, Donna. Your photo is thought provoking and stunningly beautiful.
Donna says
Thank you 🙂
Heather Eure says
Oh, Donna this is wonderful!
Donna says
🙂 Thank you, Heather.
Laurie Flanigan says
Fishing in an Ocean
They’ve named the syndrome for its two poles
one that swings wild with laughter,
casting lines against the sky,
letting tethers flutter
like Chinese
kites in the
high summer
sun.
The other
holds the
weight
that breaks
the surface,
stirs the silt,
trawls for bioluminescence . . .
or any signs of life . . .
I keep casting questions
at the waves,
hoping an aquatic-
shaped ally,
capable of underwater-
breath, will let me
watch
its fins spin,
reminding me that
we are both alive,
but all I end up pulling
from the salt-inoculating-tide
is a wear-pocked shell.
I let my mind slide
into its core.
I don’t wonder at his last thoughts,
or pretend I understand.
I’m caught in the incalculable,
in the undertow of loss,
and the nothing we could do to stop it.
I wish I had less inspiration for this one. I’ve lost dear friends due to the overwhelming sadness of the depressive end of bipolar disease. Robin Williams death hit us all hard and brought back the grief of those other losses for me.
Heather Eure says
Your words are full of courage, Laurie. Thank you for sharing them with us.
Prasanta says
Laurie, this is both heartbreaking and beautiful.
I find these lines especially poignant:
“but all I end up pulling
from the salt-inoculating-tide
is a wear-pocked shell”
I have no words. I’m sorry for all of this pain in your life.
Laurie Flanigan says
Thank you, Prasanta. As for the pain, it’s not worse for me than it is for most other people, and it’s far less than it is for some. Expressing it in writing helps me, so did the walk in the woods I just took. There’s something therapeutic about berry picking. 🙂
Donna says
Beautiful. And yes, berry therapy can be very good. 🙂
Laurie Flanigan says
Thank you, Donna.
Richard Maxson says
Scales
-for Uncle Jack
A small boy, between firelight and water,
fishes the night, a dark river bearing
yet another version of the moon.
Near a whiskey creek the river feeds,
his uncle sleeps beside the boy; he dreams
of railroads, the airy flush of the ring-neck,
the spring of a white tail buck,
the ending reflex. Of the boy, of himself
he does not dream with questions,
the feel of entrails, skins
drawn back, the snap of bones,
and death’s cataracts. His
remembering is past these things,
lodged now in the curl of his fingers.
This is an ancient scene: a baited line
drawn through the reflected moon
anchored just offshore,
a pale mote in the still of the boy’s eye,
not a memory for the mind, but a fusion
in his veins with the river’s long and terrible wind;
something long lived in the blood, a fish,
for when the whiskey creek is dry,
and pheasants sleep undisturbed by dreams―
the invisible armor of scales,
a cool gaze in the white-hot center of desire,
a ceaseless faithful motion of the heart, there
when the fire will settle itself to embers,
and love will become fine and rare,
precious as breath, a gentle radiance
against the skin, the slide along a palm
as a trout returns to water.
In time the mirror will return
a parent’s nuncial reflection; the boy
will hear the uncle dreaming again;
the rod will bend, the line straighten through the moon;
the river will yield its own;
the struggle will be brief;
in the soft, white, open belly,
with great reverence, his fingers curl;
scales float like stars on the water
as the opaque moon rises on closed eyes.
Laurie Flanigan says
There’s so much to love about this poem, Richard. I can hear the rhythm of the river when I read it. It’s beautiful.
Prasanta says
This is beautiful. I love the first line, the “whiskey creek”, and so much more.
Heather Eure says
I ditto their sentiments, Richard! 🙂
Donna says
I’ve left a poem on my page today – fishergirl.
http://thebrightersideblog.blogspot.com/2014/08/fishergirl.html
Laurie Flanigan says
I especially like the lines ” 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”. I like the rhythm and the sound sense of it and the way you’ve used line breaks and spacing. Well done. 🙂
Heather Eure says
That’s great, Donna! Clever photo of bobbers hung in a tree– I’ve cast my fair share of lures into their clutches.
Glynn says
Well, I didn’t exactly look for the perfect shot. Actually, the perfect shot may have found me. And it wasn’t fishing, exactly. But it was close. http://faithfictionfriends.blogspot.com/2014/08/feeding-fish.html
Donna says
Glynn, I’d say you had the catch of the day!!! 🙂
Monica Sharman says
Love it, Glynn! (And it’s at a koi pond!)
Heather Eure says
How sweet. I like the complementary blues and oranges. Oh, and especially those little chubby cheeks!
Monica Sharman says
This photo prompt is right up my rod and reel. Seems like all I do every summer is take photos of people fishing! Here are my photos:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/monica-sharman/sets/72157646507126575
Prasanta says
What a beautiful spot for fishing– gorgeous scenery.
Heather Eure says
What beautiful scenery! Thank you for sharing these. Where did this delightful fishing expedition take place?
Monica Sharman says
For the poem prompt:
At the shore,
holding off for one more
to cycle home in the basket
before it catches
slants of rain.
Heather Eure says
Very nice, Monica! Slants of rain…
Robbie Pruitt says
Imaginings
End my ponderings
Pull the line under
Break the stillness
Shatter the wondering
Ripple the surface
Stir me from bucket perch
Bow my cane pole
End my patient waiting
Meet my hopes—console
© August 15, 2014, Robbie Pruitt
Heather Eure says
Stirs the imagination, Robbie. Thank you!
Robbie Pruitt says
Casting Illuminating Lines
The sun casts its lines
As rays of light
Breaking the day
Hoping to make a catch
Illuminating life, time, ocean,
Beaches, ships, mast and sail
And one lone fisherman
Hoping to prevail
© August 16, 2014, Robbie Pruitt
Heather Eure says
Hoping to prevail… I like that.
Robbie Pruitt says
Thank you Heather.
Robbie Pruitt says
Here are the two poems with the photo on my Tumblr blog: http://robbiepruitt.tumblr.com/post/94956857010
Marcy says
“A Love for Fishing”
Fished for love,
Threw myself into the sea.
Sat on the bottom of the ocean
Waited,
No one could see me.
Strings with hooks passed over me,
With patience and acceptance
Watched as every hook came by.
Then came the little fishing boat.
The one with piercing blue eyes.
Accepted the hook,
He reeled me right in.
Love is all about a boat and a man.