A Poem: “The Catch”


The hungry people cry.


I have it all inside.

I am made up of water.

The lake in me is full.

“I am” is on the boat.

I can see fragments of value swimming.

But I have to catch each one with a shiny hook

*I feel like I have to catch “you” with a shiny hook*

Fishing takes time.

It’s done daily with tools.

I cast lines.

I bait the thoughts

Sometimes I just end up feeding the lake with fallen bait.

I sit, and cast, and reel,

I sit, and cast, and reel some more-

and then some more.

A lot of this feels repetitive.

Sometimes I catch nothing.

Even I am hungry.

Sometimes I catch just enough to feed myself.

When there is any excess. I share it.

But catching can be hard.

Catching takes time.

Once one is caught, still there is work.

Trim the guts, find the meat, remove the scales and bones.

Serving it to “others liking” is even harder.

Do I season it with this or that flavor?

How will I serve it? On what dish?

Raw? Tempura? Mixed with a lot of other filler ingredients? Grilled and lean? Spicy? Mild?

And after all of that work…

Some people just don’t like fish.

I will just prepare it the way it feels right to me each day.

Which I assume will be a lot of different, interesting ways.

I am not the master griller.

I am not the bakers best.

I am just a catcher and sharer.

I will keep working on the rest.

Give a person a thought, and they will be satisfied for a thought.

Teach a person to think. And they can be satisfied for the rest of their life.

I am never bored.

I am always fishing.

Love in. Love out.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close