A placid lake
Lightly misting,
A soft wind
Quietly murmuring,
An aging villager with a straw hat
Thoughtfully fishing,
In a wooden raft he sat
Secretly dreaming.
Speckled light entered the horizon
Dismally shining,
From beneath the earth
Hopefully climbing,
The fog crept on all fours
Stealthily floating,
On tranquil waters
Reflectively showing.
Minute shades of grey
Expectantly turning
The night into day.
a believable picture of fishing, my favorite doing from early childhood. Once the alternation of the night and day takes place, the fish biting changes significantly; but before it happens, at the very end of the dawn, all of a sudden a big tail can be on. . . hopefully. Cheers, alex
You've created a vignette filled with imagery in celebrating one of man's simple pleasures in life. What better way to dream, than fishing before sunrise.
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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Love ya!
Jane
Ron
"An aging villager with a straw hat" comes through as vibrant even though he is calmly sitting, pole in hand. Very, very nice work, John.