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Ronald W. Hull

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by Ronald W. Hull
Saturday, September 08, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Ronald W. Hull
•  Butterfly
•  Mediocre
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           >> View all 703

My first, and only, musky (much)
bigger ones got away) at 13 with
my new spin cast rod/reel.
31.5 inches and 7.5 lbs.

Try not thinking, “fish” while reading.



My line is out,
the lure is deep.
Whatever I catch,
I get to keep.

My bait is right,
my hook is too,
my line is strong,
all brand-new.

I am persistent,
and will always wait.
For you never know the time,
or the date.

When luck or coincidence,
comes into play.
And I make a big catch,
that makes my day.

But those days are few,
and far between.
So I bide my time,
with patience and dream.

Of the big one,
that got away.
That I tried to forget,
but always stayed.

In a corner of my heart,
where such things reside.
Forgotten by most,
not trying to hide.

Forgotten by most,
but, I will abide.

Copyright 2012 © Ronald W. Hull

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Reviewed by Larry Matthews 10/6/2012
Loved it Ron
Reviewed by Jon Willey 9/15/2012
fishing, not for fish, whatever the pursuit the preparation and tactics are so similar - and how do we all rue, "the one that got away", whatever or whomever that might have been - an analogy written
with a Great Lakes influence - I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael
Reviewed by Laurel Lamperd 9/13/2012
Great poem, Ron. The photo and the poem tell a story. Lovely photo of you when you were thirteen. I think the fish was more important to the photographer. He caught the picture of the fish perfectly but cut your head off in doing so. Cheers
Reviewed by Myrna Badgerow 9/12/2012
Oh the interpretations one could glean from your words.. loved this! And thank you for your comment on 'Innocence and Butterflies'.. the precocious child is my granddaughter..)
Reviewed by Christine Tsen 9/10/2012
Wonderful multi-faceted gem, Ron!
My son loves to fish, but we can't go to the lake right now, because of that dratted eee being in the area.
Reviewed by Edward Phillips 9/10/2012
Gone fishin'. . .see him snoozin' by a brook
Gone fishin'. . .didn't even bait his hook
Gone fishin' ... instead of jest awishin'.
Reviewed by John Flanagan 9/9/2012
...biding your time, Ron, "with patience and dream"
the loss of love or opportunity is hard to swallow
especially when the bait was so alluring...and no,
you are not forgotten, ever

Reviewed by neerja gandhi 9/8/2012
Good catch and great write... :) best wishes,neerjsr
Reviewed by Laura Fall 9/8/2012
Great photo to along with this great write laura
Reviewed by Vivian Dawson 9/8/2012
Sounds like a GREAT approach
to living a Good Life *Ron*
Very well said!

Lady Vivian
Reviewed by richard cederberg 9/8/2012
Still .... we're in the Eastern Sierra's as I write this. We will be fishing June Lake and Silver Lake in the next three days. They say the German Browns are running up to three pounds. The trophys up here have been 18 - 20 pounds in decades past. We are ready to do battle. Enjoyed ...
Reviewed by Christine Alwin 9/8/2012
Fishing is in my blood, just 10 when I started to filet them!
Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger 9/8/2012
Ron ~
A terrific catch!! Enjoyed your poem. Dad was the best
trout fisherman, with patience and ease he brought them in.

Lady Mary Ann
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 9/8/2012
Nobody's reading past the fish. I was active... beating the banks of rivers for the holes.

Reviewed by Felix Perry 9/8/2012
There is nothing like the feel of a fish hooked and the fight to bring him in, whether it be a brook trout or a tuna...adrenaline rush.
Reviewed by Budd Nelson 9/8/2012
well Ron fishing is quite a serene pass time i admit
Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader) 9/8/2012
Very catchy lyrics, Ron. I like that you said "Try not thinking "fish" while reading." I also like the discrepency between Jane and Jerry's response: Those who enjoy watching grass grow and those who want to light the grass on fire. I'm sorry this photograph omitted your face: I would have liked to see that, too! Enjoyable last-of-summer read, Ron, thank you. ~~ Diana
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 9/8/2012
Too much energy was my downfall for the sport of fishing. I went with my dad a few times, but was bored stiff. I think he only went fishing to get away from mother. No, I was happier somewhere getting into some kind of trouble than sitting on a creek bank . . . breathing.
Reviewed by Jane Noponen Perinacci 9/8/2012
I used to love to go fishing with my father off the pier. That's where I learned the holiness of silence. Keep on fishin'!

Love ya!

Reviewed by Lily of Lough Neagh C. Dennis-Woosley 9/8/2012
The joy of fishing, I love to fish and
have not been for years now. But I used
to fish deep sea off of Morro, Bay CA and
had a wonderful time. Usually caught sand
sharks though.

Basically the joy of "fishing" or the act
therein within itself with the prospect of
landing something big is the joy of it all.
Whether you keep it or not :)

Love and Light

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