Rod bent,
Feet in cool sand,
Salt spray kisses my face,
Horizon swells with whispered promise,
Wait holds.
Cast wide,
Foam curls, pulls back,
Seagulls wheel above the tide,
Lines tremble with unseen dancers,
Bite comes.
Reel hums,
Muscles tense, heart jumps,
Silver arcs flash in sunlight,
Victory tastes of brine and freedom,
Hook lands.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: September 29th, 2026 00:01
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is about the surf fishing. If you want to know what that entails, visit https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surf_fishing
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: Sports Poetry.
Offline)
Comments2
Never know what you might get from hammerhead sharks to sting rays along with assorted other species. Nicely imaged it flows well and feels bright and beach like. Well done my friend
Matthew, I liked the patience in this one. It made me want to sit somewhere quiet near the water and disappear for a while. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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