Seeing More

Gone Fishing

I met a man a maudlin dour fellow
Who threw out his line heavy with sorrow
The women lined up to feed from the bait
They told him he'd be happy tomorrow

The more he bemoaned his sad fate and wept
The greater his catch till in peace he slept
A wry smile on his lips thru the dark night
But when he woke he was still as inept

There was an artist though not very good
Became an art critic because she could
Her bitter failure taints every harsh word
Everyone left her alone where she stood

So she went fishing and baited her hook
Heavy with lard she cast into the brook
One greater than her lept out of the creek
And gave her back just as good as she took

A jealous small man contrived to destroy
Dreaming of her fall brought him much joy
He set the stage and cast into the sea
She snatched it up like a kid with a toy

But what he forgot is love wins the day
Soon the envious was sent on his way
Alone unwanted an outcast is he
Former foul predator is now the prey

Think twice you vile fishers before you strike
I place fisher heads on pointy word pike
If you go fishing beware what you catch
You get what you deserve not what you like

© 2009 Helen Bascom
All Rights Reserved