fishing-boat-13513304494ma

Good things come to those who bait.



We left before any glimpse of a daffodil sunrise,
meandering off to the bay on the wisp of a dare
The vessel reeked of years at sea, but we boarded,
kept company with philistines and fishing rods,
sights set on a sun-sparked lime-green ocean where
the contents of our untrained stomachs made chum
The boat splashed its way, cold christening us with
salt water spray; feckless, we spun our reels, chance
landing four fat salmon, legal limit, beginner’s luck

© 2011, Jamie Dedes, all rights reserved; Photo courtesy of Junior Libby, PublicDomainPictures. com

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT

Beginner’s luck may be a rare thing but it does happen and it is often worth memorializing in poetry, sometimes if only for the humor of the occasion. Tell us about your own experience of beginner’s luck. Leave your poem/s or a link to it/them in the comments section below. All poems shared on theme will be published here next Tuesday. You are encourage to join in not matter the status of your career: novice, emerging or pro. You have until Monday evening, April 30 at 8:00 pm PDT to respond.

If this is your first time participating in Wednesday Writing Prompt, please send a short bio (NOT your poetry) and a photograph to thepoetbyday@gmail.com.  These are always published for new contributors by way of introduction.

Thank you! 🙂


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11 Comments

  1. FIRST CAST

    An island without water. We rose just
    after dawn, this summer of endless sun
    and strawberries, unmoored the boat, began
    to work the oars. Steady lift splash pull,
    lift splash pull,’ till we could drift mid-fjord.
    One simple line and spinner. Wait as sweat
    dries; salt, silence then sharp tug, resistance
    against the filament drawn in. First fish!
    squirming black silver grey. And on and on
    as mackerel filled the boat around our feet.
    Much easier this than working out love’s
    complications, shimmer and wonder
    lifting me beyond youth’s self-absorptions.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I like how elegantly you pla with language. There is pleasure in this. Poetry, no matter what the matter is, should be linguistically pleasurable. It of course goes withou saying that language–the expertise of poetry–as it is weilded by a poet of seasoned sensibility, is an art. Look at what you say and see what they do

    a daffodil sunrise (coming from you, a cmpassionate person, a flower lover, so closely attuned to the quietness of nature, this surprising effect is no surprise)

    the wisp of a dare (O my! This exactly replaces it. See if you still have it in you. Hahaha.)

    the vessel reeked of years at sea (it feels like lines from Homer… so heroic, so experience-laden, so full of sensibility, so visual, so graphic)

    kept company with philistines and fishing rods (I am smiling. I love this. The sound too.)

    on a sun-sparked lime-green ocean (so painterly, and more than that–it is glimmering–alive, unlike a frozen painting.

    cold christening us with
    salt water spray (💙❤💚)

    we spun our reels, chance
    landing four fat salmon, legal limit, beginner’s luck (the lively fun, the humor, you communicate the experience … mirror reflex… I almost feel myself doing it.)

    Great.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. declaration of victory

    looks easy i said
    to my thuggish older brother and his foppish friend fred
    bet I can do better
    gimme a try

    how much? said the brother
    and how much better? said the fred
    all I got i replied
    twelve cents
    and I will hit
    not just the tree trunk
    but the knot on the left
    seven feet up
    from twice as far away

    they did not want to
    but the twelve cents
    and curiosity
    got them
    reluctantly fred handed me the slingshot
    and i picked a round little rock
    and backed off another ten yards

    here is where the quantum multiverse steps in
    in one universe i aimed at my brother and hit him in the side
    in another i ran off with the slingshot laughing
    and there are many others
    that would have gotten
    the crap beat out of me
    by the two thugs

    but in this ‘verse
    I aimed at the knot
    and almost hit it
    solidly thwicking the trunk
    as i somehow knew i would
    and coughed up the twelve cents
    two dollars safe in another pocket
    and declared victory

    I so wanted to try that slingshot
    and twelve cents was a small price
    for that thrill

    and I had done better with my first shot
    than they
    with all of theirs

    Liked by 1 person

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