Hi Terri,
This is a delight! I wish I could write like this!
Just a moment - but so much going on, and I love the way things are
described. I take it "priests" are the clubs that are used when the fish are
caught and not let go? (They can be clergy as well I guess... loaves of
blackcurrant jam & bread, four of the five fishes...)
But I'm just letting the poem play with my wandering imagination there...
and why shouldn't it! I mean, at the end of the poem, something's let go.
I don't often pass places where people fish... but I wouldn't be surprised
if, the next time I do, I remember the picture you've given me.
Thanks,
Bob
>From: alderoak <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: new: The fishermen
>Date: Fri, 2 Aug 2002 21:59:56 +0100
>
>The fishermen
>
>around the settling ponds
>a dozen dotted priests
>observe the murky depths
>
>the air between
>the seedy grass and blackcurrant hedges
>sticky as jam
>
>the learning disabled
>out on a trip from the Marlene Reid
>point with unembarrassed arms
>
>at the lad who is landing
>his fourth fish ever
>surrounded by strangers
>
>a gunmetal carp
>scooped from a pool of tomato soup
>and let go
>
>Terri )O(
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