silly little poems

I've written some poems over the years, here are some of them from the past present and future.


Words from a rod maker: I state, it's all compromise,
to the surface make them rise,
or drift down deep forget the drys,
root ball lair the big brown prize.

You can catch them with a switch,
hook and cast them across the ditch,
no broom sticks like the witch,
those all cast like a bitch.

So we all seem to agree,
long rods won't cast under a tree,
midge rod cast from a knee,
the rod maker has the key.


Trojan horse,
no remorse,
meandering course,
to the source.

Stream eye,
story pie,
a poem try,
I'm a fisher-mon,
I lie.


dry fly,
third eye,
cake or pie?
hard to tie.

latin smattin,
trunks by katin,
rods like a batten,
wallet flatten.

Talk to fish?
I talk to trees,
on my knees,
in the breeze,
pollen sneeze,

Fishing in the mountains is my thing.


On editing one's post.

Edit edit edit,
there I said it.
Don't you get it?
Don't you fret it.
Think about it,
before you type about it,
and if you missed it,


On not wearing a vest:

The pest,
is a vest,
our crest,
out West,
or on the Test,
they're the best,
I don't jest,
like a plastic breast,
a fake chest,
no love nest

Thanks for the tip(s).


To HOVE and gstrand:

You're all dorks,
like fast food sporks,
bottle un-cork,
screw it! here comes the stork.


For my roots English Queen,
comes a Brook Bag thing,
when the Featherweight sings,
my memories cha-ching!

To my poet friends I plant,
inside my mind, read you can't,
if I'm bitten, flick the ant,
poison ivy, wear pants.

Tis a poem game poo poo,
lift up your shoe,
yep, it's there too.
so I bid you an adeau.

See you all around.


On meeting S.Brooks:

The stream side meet,
we finally meet,
little white boy,
no hooded sheet.


On the upcoming 03 Streamside Meet:

Far view poem for you...

Many fly,
on high,
waving stick,
anti prick,
cast flick,
jewel stick,
Costillo crick,
that's sick.

See you soon,
under the moon,
traveling toons?
rasta croons.

Sangria de Cristo,
Negro Modelo,
tilt to the fellows,
get a little mello,
some may bellow.


From a FAOL forum:

Register or die,
sling fly,
words can make you cry,
FAOL shy,
as fishers we lie,
forum hidden pie.

We are not your role model.
No vest,
no mess,
no thousand dollar "what fly" guess,
industry hate off your chest,
chef's menu is the best,
Off the beaten path gold crest.

Don't let anyone tell you how to look or what rod to fish.
No sheep,
little sleep,
Breath of fresh air,
stream dash fisher lair,
do you dare,
delete this fisher flair.

I don't care.


More from FAOL forum:

It's all about the chat,
I'll wear an old hat,
getting old and fat,
mountains waters aren't flat,
tightline land 'em pat,
fishy smell pussy... cat,
'nuff of that.

Not everyone digs little fish, that's cool.

Do you?
We do.


On the archives:

Back on track,
all the smak,
fallin in the crack,

a little different tack.

Life is cool,
archives from a fool,
your fishing tool,
under a toad stool.


On Chef:

Chef - boy are dee,
Like Euel Gibbons eating a tree,
no straight words just flowers see,
drink 10 beers and you gotta pee.

We did meet in the box,
got wrinkles? try botox,
forget time on the stream clocks,
peck out a story at the stream-fisher dock.

As you know,
kowboy koffee joe,
kept in a gatoraid bottle,
sleep I forgo.

You ARE back,
with feathers on dawn's crack,
a fly fishing new jack,
howz that for some smack?


Asking Chef to join us:

His name is chef.
He can cook up a story morning glory.
He ain't no big talker Better Crocker.
He ain't no Gaylord Focker.

I miss him,
an he isn't so slim,
good eat's are his whim,
not a surface skim.

So I'm making a spot for chef because he can sling fly.
hit you in the eye,
make you cry,
make a pie.

He can cook up a fish meal to make you die.

Chef, I'm calling you out.


Chef and Kowboy Koffee:

Koffee man, a poem can,
define the art on a stearling cart.
But my preference is to reference,
the stained coffee cup with your words straight up.
The neophyte might,
find us quirky even a little smirky,
wierd and industry feared,
the feeling is reeling,
always return and you will learn.


...on the "badge"

so cool,
new school,
old fools,
no rules,
not cruel,
long tools,
little jewels,
slick pool,

this is not a duel.


On the identification of a trout.

Thanks Joe,
good to know,
it's no blow,
not a show,
I'll eat crow,
and go with the flow.

The little fish,
knowledge dish,
granted my wish,
ID in a swish,
my longwinded kitsch,
to a polite switch.

We wait,
at the knowledge gate,
for the straight,
ego deflate,
ID fate,
and congratulate.


Reflecting on tippet snipper, a stream-fisher user

Old fart?
What's this angling art?
My kid's eat Pop Tarts,
they sneak 'em in the cart,
at the grocery mart,
and this poem I'll start.

Loop bling bling jewlery?
What's this Tom Foolery?
Your words I do steal,
for my poem fishing reel.
Am I the old tart pop fart?
or just smart...[ass]

Like many I'm one,
I like to have fun,
pulled pork and cole slaw on a bun,
stories spun,
your trust won,
mine too.

Little fish glue,
like love, not a screw,
your reel choice isn't new, is a information flue,
Jesus is a Jew,
I better get a clue.

I'll write these words,
send them off like the birds,
of the feathers we tie,
hook tie tippet eye,
loop the fly,
under a pine tree sky.

I learn from your part,
even if you're an old fart,
your words are MY pop tart,
stream-fisher is the cart,
Is this the end or a start?


Mikeytwoshoes and Loop Reels

That's that.
Now you know.
Not for the average Joe.
Loop forgo.
Go with what you know.
If you are horney,
hire a...


mor(on) the purse

Blue blood?
High brow?
No how.
Suspender broke,
drop trau.

No bag?
You fag,
model the mag,
worm cup gag,
Is that your Jag?

A jewlery reel,
for the no smell creel,
who's the snob?
mistress at the table,
ten dollar deal.

No one's to blame,
for your trip,
opinions you skip,
no bag wearing shame,
middle finger I flip.


On being a "gay fisher"

I'm straight,
not bent,
silly gent,
my rod is,
the trout went.


More on the badge...

Fishing is what you make it.
You like Rapala's to fake it,
I like a challenge to shake it,
and your words quake it.

Not to worry,
the hatchet bury,
the idea shouldn't hurry,
with adversity no furry.

It's all about you,
who cares if your coller is blue,
it's none of my business view,
the love of the fly is the glue.

Now don't go away,
I'de like to hear more of what you say,
think about it tomorrow not today,
the answer is like the needle in the hay.


More fly anglers online haiku none sense

Fish-it and get it,
reads this dial-up bit.

Oriental is cool,
words are the tool,
new or old school,
babble the fools.

Who's site came first?
That question is the worse,
I'm no Fred Durst,
and my youth isn't a curse.

All crusty and old,
we all make the fold,
the essence I'm told,
the stream standard is gold.

One fish two fish,
I fish you fish,
a huge one you wish?
the journey is my dish.

So we write all about,
the journey for trout,
some look down their snout,
no respect for the quiet,
"Look at ME!"

Did I break the poem rule?
just like the word kewl.
with words we can duel, a pine tree? said Euel.


On pete being back

I missed you pete,
but now your back,
we'll throw feathers,
at dawn's crack.
Dominance you say,
is your roll in the hay,
get a little play,
go fishing all day.


on Daniellson replication

too late,
no support rate,
that's what closed the gate,
single axle drag sucks rollers are great,
nada mas dinero the money is like a pate,
it's hard for me to type because i like to skate,
next week i'm taking a beautiful woman on a romantic date,
sticking with what i know because i can't blow the dough for ditto on my plate,
many years of not making the bed breaking the thread the eviltec is a replicate.


zee loop reels,
zey are zee best.
get zee loop,
got sand prepare for zee croup,
zee bestest reel for zee stoop,
no mo loop,
it was zee coup,
what mikey sez ain't poop,
and what I say won't make you a dupe.


...and a song!

Sing it in your head to the Red Hot Chille Peppers song, "Give It Away"

There's a place in,
Northern Arizona,
a desert river,
come from Colorado.
The Mormons crossed there,
at Lees Ferry,
then they built the bridge,
and it was easy


Glen Canyon Dam!
Hoover Dam!
Mar de Cortez,
all the way to Mexico,
Marble Canyon,
the Grand Canyon,
don't forget the Navajo.

We drive our boats up,
the curvy river,
to the sand bars,
then we park there.
Unpack our kitchen,
pile up the wood so high,
start a fire,
then we cast our flys.


Glen Canyon Dam!
Hoover Dam!
Mar de Cortez,
all the way to Mexico,
Marble Canyon,
the Grand Canyon,
don't forget the Navajo.

Just like Zorro,
lay the line down jiggly,
when the yarn dives,
lift the rod quickly.
The river rainbows,
fat and ultra wiggly,
6X works the best,
land 'em very gently.


Glen Canyon Dam!
Hoover Dam!
Mar de Cortez,
all the way to Mexico,
Marble Canyon,
the Grand Canyon,
don't forget the Navajo.


Attractor pattern factor?

Lucky Charms surreal,

Looks like your streams,

got served up BIG a meal.

With the bushy fly,

it's all about the big guy,

little one's don't try,

and then they eye,

the fastest to the sky.


mor(on) the way...