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Thread: A poem

  1. Default A poem

    In the exuberance of youth, I bought the best that I could,
    having been led to believe that the investment was good.
    So when my fly-fishing passion first took root and took hold,
    I searched the sources where the premium equipment was sold.
    The advertisements implied (and the salesmen did, too)
    that my success was dependant on my choice of a few.
    Their pitches implied that ‘inexpensive’ equaled ‘bad’,
    that my success was dependant on the gear that I had.
    A fly rod from Kmart? Oh, please perish the thought!
    It had to be Loomis, or Sage, or Winston, or Scott.
    A fly reel named Martin? Ha, surely you jest!
    Maybe Abel, Lamson, or Ross - choose from one of the best.
    So I bought the best that I could, shunned anything less
    from fly rods, to fly reels, to accoutrements, to dress.
    But over a period of time, something started to change
    the price of my toys sky-rocketed out of my range.
    I thus felt compelled to examine what I’d been fed (id est)
    if I’d been given the facts, or if I’d been B.S.’ed.
    So I went to a box store and bought a rod off the rack,
    I bought a reel off of eBay and, with the new rig intact,
    I rushed to a stream and attempted what I normally would.
    I was surprised that it worked like a fly rod and reel should.
    I was mildly mystified when I tried shooting line;
    After adjusting my stroke, it was working just fine!
    I thought, This isn’t what I’d been led to believe!
    I started to wonder if I’d been too naïve.
    Now I have to admit that I was even more perplexed
    when that first trout rose, and the cheap rod flexed.
    I’ll be damned - it catches fish! Who would’ve thunk?!
    It may be inexpensive but I’m now convinced it ain’t junk.
    As I played that fish, I felt an almost imperceptible change;
    Something just didn’t feel right, something felt kinda strange.
    I thought I heard a faint ‘pop’ and looked down, fearing the worst
    But it wasn’t my rod - within my psyche, the adman’s bubble had burst.
    And I began to see clearly (in a metaphorical way),
    Who the real ‘fishermen’ were, and who served as their prey.

  2. #2

    Default Re: A poem

    In my youth, I dreamt of reels & rods,
    but on my lowly income..what were the odds.
    A cheap hand-me-down would just hafta do
    'cuz I had to eat & shelter myself too.

    So now, decades late I often fish with "the best."
    You know I earned it & I'm sure I am Blessed!
    I thank my Maker for each & every day
    That He built Creation where I can just play.

    We all are different, some rich & some not..
    You learn to make-do with whatever ya got!
    I hope & I pray we can all care for our sport
    & share what we can with less fortunate sort!

    Fish on my fellow Anglers & Anglerettes!
    -Fish 'til ya Drop!-

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Oct 2007
    Wasilla / Skwentna, Alaska
    Blog Entries

    Default Re: A poem


    Seldom do I put so much thought into saying anything. You echo my thoughts from afar, well put.

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