Theme Thursday’s prompt #57 is Fish, http://themethursday.blogspot.com/2011/10/thursday-october-13-2011-fish.html. Now, I’m a fisherman. I love to fish, so this would seem to be a natural for me, but with my propensity to experiment lately, I’m going to again post a rough draft. One reason for the rough draft status is my attempt in the first two lines to knowingly use anapest meter (two unstressed syllables followed by one stressed syllable). I was going to write the whole poem in anapest, but I simply couldn’t make it work. Most of the rest of the poem in iambic. You can see how the different meters clash.
by Mike Patrick
As a child on the bank with his dad,
his first fish found its way to his worm.
There, beneath the tiny weeping willow’s green,
a very special kind of love was born.
Though never caught before, the trophy bass
was first brought thumping to the shore;
to where this child unhooked the hook,
and let the giant fish go free once more.
As a kid, with a crooked hat and smile,
he spent the sunny summer days upon that bank.
The times of willow poles passed by with age—
to graphite rods and fancy reels that crank.
From childhood to adult, he caught that fish
a dozen times, keeping nothing but his pride;
each time, he set his trophy free;
a ritual, had somehow become a rite.
As a dad on the bank with his child,
that mammoth bass beneath the giant willow tree
again attacked a youngster’s lure. With tears,
the father watched his son . . . set the monster free.