Great poems and I love fishing! Love the solitude of the early morning, the quiet, the reflections, the peaceful feeling and the happy wahoo when I feel the tug on the line and pull one in. Nothing better.
My father used to disappear each weekend for hours “fishing up on the Willow River,” but he rarely brought home fish. When I was 11 or 12, I nagged him into taking me along with him, and he reluctantly agreed. We walked along the stream for what seemed to be a very long time looking for that “right spot.” I grew tired of this and cast my line into the water and immediately hooked a medium-sized trout. I was elated, but my father, less so. He placed the trout in his creel and we continued our walk along the stream for another hour or so, then called it quits. I was the only one who caught a fish that day and I was very proud. However, my father never again took me fishing with him.
Unfortunately, that says volumes about that man and I'm sorry for that. My Dad was a ripple fisherman, which is to say that the very few times he ever fished with me, he only cast when he saw a ripple. He grew up in the mid west where everybody fished but he wasn't interested but he was extremely interested in whatever I caught, so that was good. He loved eating fish.
Neither of my sons had any interest in fishing. They did a little here and there but only because it was with cousins or some social event. It's not for everyone.
Thank you Lori. Where does the name Zybala come from? I wrestled with a guy named Zaballi. He said his grandfather came from Spain, was a cork farmer there.
Fishing has fed both hunger and souls for eons. I love the ever changing philosophy of a good fishing day throughout the poem! Creel is now in my vocabulary…
He brings home fish with his little bamboo pole. His dream is to have a legit pole. We’ll get there :) We gotta go down there more with him. It’s a pretty big rushing river so we don’t yet let him go solo but this inspires me to go fish with him more.
You would have been beating them off with a stick... I would be interested in hearing what your husband would think of this poem. Tell him I also used Rapala, Heddon Sonic, and some power baits.
good lessons from patient fishermen. My oldest son is obsessed with fishing :)
Being asked to bring home my catches was one of the very good memories of my childhood.
Fish tales
Your grandfather's poem gave me a good laugh! My favorite lines in your poem:
"He waits for the wind
to settle or to arrive,
according to his philosophy,
long held but secretive."
Fishermen really are a silly bunch who take themselves and their sport very seriously. Thanks for reading Margaret.
Great poems and I love fishing! Love the solitude of the early morning, the quiet, the reflections, the peaceful feeling and the happy wahoo when I feel the tug on the line and pull one in. Nothing better.
I remember all that so well, really treasured memories.
I agree so very much.
My father used to disappear each weekend for hours “fishing up on the Willow River,” but he rarely brought home fish. When I was 11 or 12, I nagged him into taking me along with him, and he reluctantly agreed. We walked along the stream for what seemed to be a very long time looking for that “right spot.” I grew tired of this and cast my line into the water and immediately hooked a medium-sized trout. I was elated, but my father, less so. He placed the trout in his creel and we continued our walk along the stream for another hour or so, then called it quits. I was the only one who caught a fish that day and I was very proud. However, my father never again took me fishing with him.
Unfortunately, that says volumes about that man and I'm sorry for that. My Dad was a ripple fisherman, which is to say that the very few times he ever fished with me, he only cast when he saw a ripple. He grew up in the mid west where everybody fished but he wasn't interested but he was extremely interested in whatever I caught, so that was good. He loved eating fish.
Neither of my sons had any interest in fishing. They did a little here and there but only because it was with cousins or some social event. It's not for everyone.
My father left many mysteries behind. He was brave enough to confide in my brother but my brother would not confide in me.
Ah, what a shame, all those family strictures about who can say what to whom.
It's more than that. Now that my brother is gone, I will never know.
These are among the hardest things for us to age with, those things that can't be undone.
Your grandfather’s poem is a pretty accurate picture of my father as fisherman.
It's a funny one, no doubt. I wonder who wrote it? I couldn't find out.
..tales of a fisherman ... enjoyed
Thank you Lori. Where does the name Zybala come from? I wrestled with a guy named Zaballi. He said his grandfather came from Spain, was a cork farmer there.
Ah! Interesting- !
It is Polish/ Ukraine decent
Fishing has fed both hunger and souls for eons. I love the ever changing philosophy of a good fishing day throughout the poem! Creel is now in my vocabulary…
Hi Mel. Every fisherman I've known runs through their list of reasons why those damn fish won't bite!
good lessons from patient fishermen. My oldest son is obsessed with fishing :)
It's just all good to spend a lot of hours in nature, fairly still, quiet and watching everything around you. Does bring home fish?
He brings home fish with his little bamboo pole. His dream is to have a legit pole. We’ll get there :) We gotta go down there more with him. It’s a pretty big rushing river so we don’t yet let him go solo but this inspires me to go fish with him more.
A big strong river deserves plenty of respect and a little fear.
Fishermen seem to be the high priests of the water.. magical. The reason those talismans are called “lures”..
and it's such an old, ancient thing to be doing, sitting there trying to outwit a fish so you can eat.
One of the most basic acts
I loved both poems. I am the wife of a bass fisherman. Too bad I never thought about putting bait on my earlobes. 🤣
You would have been beating them off with a stick... I would be interested in hearing what your husband would think of this poem. Tell him I also used Rapala, Heddon Sonic, and some power baits.