Fishing with Gramps

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Sun, 26 Apr 2015
  • 795 reads
4 comments
 
Sundays were fishing with Gramps
on Clapton Common; thermos –
condensed milk sarnies,
and red, chequered blanket,
at the edge of the pond. 
 
Makeshift rod from a length
of bamboo stick tied with string,
in a four-year old’s dimpled fists;  
 
we never did catch a thing
but it didn’t matter, and
there was always the next time.
 
When would we get a bite,
I’d ask my gramps a million times. 
 
Pretty soon, he’d say. If
we were patient.  You never know
your luck.  Could be the odd
salmon or trout, hereabouts.
Or even flying fish.  Bet
you didn’t know fish could fly
but they can, sometimes.
 
Mouth agog with amazement,
casting my line to the wind
watched it make a perfect arc,
run rings around a midday sun
in a cornflower sky
 
then sway in slow motion –
suspended, in space, almost,
as if time had stood still. 
 
‘Look...there!’ he cried.
‘A hatch of dragonfly.’ 
 
Blue on blue; their sole reason to be born;
to feed, to fly, to swarm above this pond
for our eyes to feast upon. 
 
For once I had no questions, and he –
no answers;
 
hugging me to his chest, 
eyes - tight shut
as if to offer up a prayer
that we could keep this one
matchless moment,
 
and I have, all these years, of a man – 
still a child, just below
the surface.
 
Certificate U
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Inspiration Point (work that responds to our weekly writing cue)
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Lovely!  

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Philip.  Thrilled you thought sosmiley

Tina

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

I think I've read of the fishing trips before, but this seems quite different. Really liked the last 2 lines, and the beautiful picture of his delight in the dragonflies (now, they had come from below to above the surface I suppose!). Enjoyed very much. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thank you, Rhiannon.  Yes, I often write of my many fishing trips along the River Lee in North London, but the memories in this poem are especially precious, because I think it was from this little pond, I drew my inspiration for the love of water, and all things 'fishy'.  Would love to go back to those days, but at least I have my memories.

Have a peaceful Monday.

Tina