Guest Sundancefisher Posted February 15, 2009 Share Posted February 15, 2009 ODE TO A PERCH You swam into my life one day at first one then two then more I say You checked out my shiny hook and then you said me thinks it does not look real and that was your final look To rid our lake of yellow and green I thought what should I do I needed some fishing friends More than the lake has ever seen Some guys came calling Names such as Fisher Alex Badback and others But to rickr...thought of perch was galling So today the weather seemed frightfully cold but compared to Christmas such chilly weather can only been said To be nothing more than bold. For soon the Sun shall shine so hot and beat down upon our city which shall have everyone wanting To catch more perch...NOT. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlashGordon Posted February 15, 2009 Share Posted February 15, 2009 fishie fishie in the brook.... come and bite my f*ckin hook Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Castuserraticus Posted February 15, 2009 Share Posted February 15, 2009 There once was a rainbow from Cal-gary Who made a wish to the trout fairy I wish I could inja The Bow River ninja You know, the one that is so hairy Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
maxwell Posted February 15, 2009 Share Posted February 15, 2009 lmao.... that wish mustnt have came true.. bin putting a hurtin on tehm fish the past 2 days! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
borntobewalleye Posted February 15, 2009 Share Posted February 15, 2009 Fish scales. My fish cry for me, in this world of lost scales. Scales of pattern, textures of shape, all lost to the ounces the scale permits. And when the day decides to run, when the scale announces full And we seek what cries for us We leave the world, and chase the shapes. The textures and the scales. And we fish, for that which cries. i was pretty drunk when i wrote this, infact, i dont think i actually remember more than the fact i did write it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SQUATCHER Posted February 15, 2009 Share Posted February 15, 2009 we brave cold wind in morning light, while wading water mid wader height. we barely notice the can go by, staring intently at our fly. only hours old, fresh off the vice. we feel certain the fish will rise. the rising pattern sporattic at best, for him its survival, for us its a test. this cast feels different, a little slowed down. you add a small mend, so your fly wont drown. the stealthful rise, a sip of your fly. then all goes quiet and you realize. the years of flogging and ambled casts, all lead to this moment, the ultimate test. like a primal instinct, you set your hook. no one can learn this from reading a book. why do we do this? im asked by some guy. all reasons are different, but we'll do it till we die. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hawgstoppah Posted February 16, 2009 Share Posted February 16, 2009 On a warm summer's eve, On a river east of cowtown, I met up with the ninja, We were both too tired to speak.. So we took turns a starin', Down the run to spot a riser, Till boredom overtook us, And he began to speak.. Son I've made a life, Out of readin' this here water, Knowing where the fish lie, By the way the water moves, So if you don't mind me saying, I can see your our here flailin', For a shot of your floatant, I'll give you some advice. So I offered him my gink, And he tied on his best dry fly, Covered it with floatant, then he began to cast, And the night got deftly quiet, And his face lost all expression, He said, If your gonna fish this river, You got to learn to fish it right... You got to know how to cast it, Know how to mend it, Know when to set the hook, And when to let 'em run. You never count your fish, When your standin' in the river, There'll be time enough for countin, When the fishing's done! Know every fisher knows, That the serect to survivin' Is what to tie on, And what to leave in the box, Cause every fly's a winner, And every fly's a loser, The best that you can hope for, Is the one the trout do want.. When he had finished speaking, He turned back toward the river, Let out a few casts, And faded from my view. And somewhere in the darkness, his reel started screamin, and in his final words he found, The trout of his dreams. You got to know how to cast 'em, Know how to mend 'em, Know when to set the hook, And when to let them run, You never count your fish, When your standin' in the river, There'll be time enough for countin', When the fishin's done... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jksnijders Posted February 16, 2009 Share Posted February 16, 2009 On a warm summer's eve, On a river east of cowtown, I met up with the ninja, We were both too tired to speak.. So we took turns a starin', Down the run to spot a riser, Till boredom overtook us, And he began to speak.. That's awesome... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Sundancefisher Posted February 16, 2009 Share Posted February 16, 2009 That's awesome... Something seems fishy...but it probably is the winner to date Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ReelLife Posted February 16, 2009 Share Posted February 16, 2009 Well done Brian. Clever adaptation and sage advice too! Reminds me of our time fishing together. Hope you recover soon-there are too few real ninjas. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
trailhead Posted February 17, 2009 Share Posted February 17, 2009 Summer Stream Dreams The tree bows down to the brook Running as a childs laughter bubbling In the shaded green a swirling ring drifts Anticipation, the rod tip lifts the counterfeit winged offering into the air And alights on the water to dance amid the foam and the ripples Only to disappear, an illusion? No! the weight and the panic The jolt of the wildness That brings one here To a place indescribable, but never left once visited. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SteveM Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 Summer Stream Dreams The tree bows down to the brook Running as a childs laughter bubbling In the shaded green a swirling ring drifts Anticipation, the rod tip lifts the counterfeit winged offering into the air And alights on the water to dance amid the foam and the ripples Only to disappear, an illusion? No! the weight and the panic The jolt of the wildness That brings one here To a place indescribable, but never left once visited. Good stuff, so far, y'all! Trailhead, this is my fave, by far. If you got more, feel free to share. Later, Steve Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Castuserraticus Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 Summer Stream Dreams The tree bows down to the brook Running as a childs laughter bubbling In the shaded green a swirling ring drifts Anticipation, the rod tip lifts the counterfeit winged offering into the air And alights on the water to dance amid the foam and the ripples Only to disappear, an illusion? No! the weight and the panic The jolt of the wildness That brings one here To a place indescribable, but never left once visited. Great imagery. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SanJuanWorm Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 Roses are Red Violets are Blue I catch bigger fish Than all of you. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hawgstoppah Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 Roses are red, Violets are blue, If your fishing the Bow, Your fishing in POO! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bigbowtrout Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 Roses are Red Violets are Blue this thread sucks and so do you!! And your Mom!!! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest KnottyGirl Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 Roses are Red Violets are Blue I catch bigger fish Than all of you. Awww crap... who the hell let Dave back in the country??? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
trailhead Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 Some Haiku for the Dojo Trout in emerald pool Subtle rise up to the fly Glows gold in my net or An Elvis velvet For some is the same as a Rembrandt masterpiece or even Quaffing Wildcat beer Gives one the same happy buzz Like Dom Perignon Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
reevesr1 Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 In keeping with trailheads haiku #2: Cracka on the line Gives some more satisfaction Then trout left uncaught Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
trailhead Posted February 18, 2009 Share Posted February 18, 2009 Hai! Kuogo dagrada! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SanJuanWorm Posted February 19, 2009 Share Posted February 19, 2009 ASHES TO ASHES DUST TO DUST IF IT WEREN'T FOR BBT A LOT OF MEN'S DING DONGS WOULD RUST. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hawgstoppah Posted February 19, 2009 Share Posted February 19, 2009 I saw a trout. It saw me. SH*T Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hydropsyche Posted February 19, 2009 Share Posted February 19, 2009 all reasons are different, but we'll do it till we die. Squatcher, I like it. Sung to the tune "Hotel California" It was a misty morning, casting to the rise An eagle from above, dove down to my prize With his claws extended, a display of might a spray of commotion, and a fleeting fight As he rose in the distance, he called out to all Was it a prayer, or an ode to the fall A trail of droplets, lead away to the trees The horizon swaying, in time with the breeze As the ripples faded, I thought with a sigh "I should have used an Adams before that :$*%&: came by....." Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tungsten Posted February 28, 2009 Share Posted February 28, 2009 It's winter in Canada And the gentle breezes blow Seventy miles an hour At thirty-five below. Oh, how I love Canada When the snow's up to your butt You take a breath of winter And your nose gets frozen shut. Yes, the weather here is wonderful So I guess I'll hang around I could never leave Canada I'm frozen to the friggin' ground! author unknown. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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