Trout and Mayfly
By onemorething
- 1427 reads
A cool rises from stone
to the sway of a shadow,
as the fins of a trout caress
the water, and by the light of kingcups,
morning stars, a mayfly wakes
him, optic nerve to motion, electric,
lost and then found. Beneath
the gaze of crack willow,
hunger will take,
and nares and gills will meet
the air in fleeting, suck
and descend, return
and the river answers
in dayflies to pluck like berries.
The mouth of a trout
is not tender - the lace of wing,
the train of tails, all fold;
it is teeth and grip and swallow,
quick, the sunset of throat,
the night of belly,
for how deep is death
in the digestion of earth.
To exist, the will of it,
love, the pull of it,
to die so many times
that it becomes no more than
the darker sister of living.
Image from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Winslow_Homer_-_Leaping_Trout_(1889).jpg
Also kingcups on Twitter: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Illustration_Caltha_palustris0.jpg
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Comments
"...the darker sister of
"...the darker sister of living." Perceptive and empathetic as always. Another wonderful poem, of course :)
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Hi Rachel, another well
Hi Rachel, another well composed poem, that inspires the readers thinking.
Jenny.
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This is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day.
Onemorething rarely shies away from the cruelty and death that abounds in the natural world, but she always creates beauty in describing it.
Why not share and/or retweet, dear readers, if you like it too?
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Some guys catch salmon just bare hands
Some guys catch salmon just bare hands I've read about it it is an art you must know your story. They explained it there. Comes from the american Indians I believe and from bears' catching fish with the paw.
I just love love love angling & Nolan
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I love this line break :
I love this line break :
"a mayfly wakes
him, optic nerve to motion, electric"
how it swings from one existence to the other, and and how you describe the result as one is consumed by the other :
"the lace of wing,
the train of tails, all fold;
it is teeth and grip and swallow,
quick, the sunset of throat,
the night of belly, "
There is such an elemental feel, but not how Ted Hughes does it, more I don't know, respect? for the fragile aspects of beauty, not only admiration of strength. Reading your poems it is easy to feel part of every creature you describe, carried for a few seconds in another's being, the wonder and torment
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Ewan sums it up perfectly in
Ewan sums it up perfectly in his comment - thank you onemore, and congratulations for the golden cherries!
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I can feel it.....
As a water person, a fisherman, angler, free diver/spear fishing, amature water world photographer, as a person who has self immersed in the liquid world we live in both in profession and lifestyle..... I can feel that poem. Almost live it, and through the eyes of the trout.
Very refreshing.....
My compliments.....
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