This Poem was Submitted By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-08-19 04:44:14 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Pole in Hand

It can't rain Lord Not now, not today I'm going fishing  With my dad I gathered my little pole My bucket and my worms Dad had the rest of our gear Off to the lake we went Mom and my sister came too We were going to picnic later After we caught some fish Maybe Friday nights dinner How proud I was Standing just like my dad I threw back my pole  Casting off my lure Oh no, something is wrong I'm caught, I'm caught I yelled to my dad Then I started to cry I hooked my ear My first time casting out Poor dad, his favorite lure Mom tried to get it out Dad cut the line Off to the emergency room We went, my dad and I Dad yelling "save my lure" The doctor started to laugh As he removed the lure Me, I got a tetanus shot And bandage on my ear My dad got relief For he alone Got to take home His favorite lure To this day I remember My standing by the lake Wishing I had gone Swimming instead

Copyright © August 2005 Claire H. Currier

Additional Notes:
Been fishing lately and I seem to catch the limbs above my head....reminded me of this poem I wrote a few years back.......thanks for is a true son is now 34 with children of his own that go fishing.....

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rene L Bennett On Date: 2007-08-11 05:44:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Claire, I very much enjoyed reading this. What a memory and a great story to share. My oldest son is 29 years old and he loves to fish and really gets into it. My youngest son, 21 hates fishing and refuses to go. Me, I have been fishing alot in my life though I admit, it has been many years. I wouldn't mind going again. Again, I truly loved your memory. By the way, what ever happened to the lure? It would defiantely be a keeps sake. Rene'

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-09-06 07:16:17
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97059
What a delightful tale of a child's excited adventures with her dad and the discomfort of the actual day which somehow does not allay the wonder of the moment in time. A good antidote to the sorrow of these times. wouldn't change a "line." best, Rachel
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-09-04 19:29:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Claire, there is something universal in this tale, not only of fishing, but of doing something special with your dad. It brings back most my favorite memories of young days, and all of them had my dad. Moms are a different ilk, everything reminds you of mom, and there is sufficient empathy to make even an old man feel welcome again, at the thought. But in those old days, and maybe today, doing something with dad was an event. Claire, oddly, I took my son fishing for the first time two months ago. There, by only the grace of God, was he not hooked. Not only by himself, but as he strove to get closer to me, also by me. You caught such and innocence, yet truthfulness in this tale. I could see you, and it was a scene to remember. I appreciate you sharing. Thank you very much... and kudos to the doc, for preserving your dad's favorite lure. The odd thing is, you father's love was evident, all I could think of was... HE LET YOU USE HIS FAVORITE LURE!!!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-08-28 17:40:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.73333
Claire, Oh the childhood memories. I'll bet you have a scar to this day! Memories are priceless surrounding family. You started with big expectations and it blew away ...... What were you fishing for? trout/bass/catfish? Friday dinner/no meat/Catholic I'll bet. Cute poem, good job. hugs Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Duane J Jackson On Date: 2005-08-28 08:10:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Claire, This made for an interesting read and I am sure it did bring back some memorable memories of the time you spent with your dad on his fishing trips. The generations are connected in their interests and now your grandchildren join your son on his fishing trips too. There was humor in this, coupled with a sense of nostalgia for days gone by. Adding rhyme to this piece will be wonderful and it will also give you the opportunity of spending more time with these everlasting memories of family life...and in this day and age of divisions, families are ever so important. Always good to hear from you. Take care, Duane.
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2005-08-21 21:53:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.63636
Dear Claire, What a beautiful memory to pay tribute to. I'm sure your family is amazed with how you've relayed this story. I can just imagine, the chaos of the lure caught on the ear..poor little guy, I hope he was brave. For those of us who fish, or in my case used to, this is a good piece to relate to. You've built it up with anticipation of the day, as the son prays against rain. Each stanza is separated by the event taking place, which makes it easy to read and comprehend. This is a heart warming poem, that lends joy to the reader. Good job. Sincerely, DeniMari
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-08-20 11:14:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Claire: I love fishing stories, and used to go fishing with my family while growing up, so I especially enjoyed this poem. I usually did not fish myself, as I never mastered the squeamishness I felt about unhooking the live fish and then watching a grown-up dispatch the blow to the head. As an adult I've really enjoyed deep sea fishing, mainly because it is so refreshing to get out there on ocean with the swift winds and motion of the boat. Your poem is rich with nostalgia and humor, as well as a painful memory. It's funny how even those are valuable in retrospect. "The roads not taken." It can't rain Lord Not now, not today I'm going fishing With my dad Your eagerness to go fishing your father is so keen, as you begin the poem with a prayer to the Creator to banish the rain. I gathered my little pole My bucket and my worms Dad had the rest of our gear Off to the lake we went Worms! Another thing I never mastered, hooking those worms. Other kinds of bait were always preferable. I can so clearly see you with your little pole and your bucket of worms with a little soil clinging to them. Nothing like the smell of earthworms with a little dirt adhering (I like this smell)! Mom and my sister came too We were going to picnic later After we caught some fish Maybe Friday nights dinner It sounds delicious. We always took other food, just in case, which tasted disappointingly ordinary, compared to the fishfry we craved. How proud I was Standing just like my dad I threw back my pole Casting off my lure This shows your father as a nurturing man, someone you admired and emulated. You show your pride by your straight posture, even stretching to get a little taller, approaching your dad's height as closely as you could. The moment of throwing back the pole is a good segue into the next stanza... Oh no, something is wrong I'm caught, I'm caught I yelled to my dad Then I started to cry Oh, I can feel it, Claire. The hook in your tender ear! Ouch! For some reason I got hooks in my hand, awkwardly trying to pull the hook from the fish with a twisting jerk that somehow ended in the soft part of my palm. I hooked my ear (Ow~!_ My first time casting out Poor dad, his favorite lure Mom tried to get it out Simply stated, but we get the picture and the emotions. I can imagine your mother's sympathy and distress. Once when my son stepped on something sharp in a river and required stitches, the doctor gave the shot of novocaine directly into the cut and I swear I could feel it. (He screamed silently.) So I can imagine your mother wanting to take the pain from you, wanting you to stop hurting. Dad cut the line Off to the emergency room We went, my dad and I Dad yelling "save my lure" Have to smile at your dad's pragmatism. After all, it was his favorite lure, and he believed in you and your capabilities as able to withstand this small injury for the sake of fishing. The doctor started to laugh As he removed the lure Me, I got a tetanus shot And bandage on my ear The two men seemed to differ a great deal in their response, so different than your mother's and your own. So maybe the implied lesson is that our mothers teach us to be tender and our father's teach us to be courageous. I think a perfect balance, as an aside, is tenderness, toughness, compassion and courage from both parents. My dad got relief For he alone Got to take home His favorite lure Sounds like he was pretty much fixated on that lure, knowing you would be OK, and not fully understanding your feelings of defeat and unfairness. To this day I remember My standing by the lake Wishing I had gone Swimming instead Swimming sounds far preferable to a hook in the ear, to the doctor's laughter, and the sense that you were not able to carry it off, "standing just like my dad" this time. This vignette from your life is delightful and bittersweet. I enjoyed every word. I remember a time of feeling humiliated, though I did nothing at all. We (my parents, grandparents and I) were fishing of a city dock, in the bay. My father hooked something enormous, shouting for all of us to gather around. He slowly reeled in an enormous, frightening-looking crab. I must have been quite small, and I remember dissolving into tears at the frightening creature, who proceeded to walk directly towards me with those eyes on stalks and that relentless crab walk. I froze to the spot, beginning to screech. "Daddy!" But he, too, laughed. Of course all I had to do was move and the crab would continue his efforts to get away. In the end, he was thrown back in, and the family recounted my terror at this alien creature over many a fish fry. I finally learned to laugh about it, too. Thanks for bringing us this poem and triggering some of my own fishing memories! My very best always, Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-08-19 14:17:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.95238
Claire, This was a very interesting read. You know ,fishing is something that I've been wanting to do lately. This poem is so great because readers don't expect what happens in the end, and you do a really wonderful job of tellling the story. The tone and mood are great, and you capture the type of memory that one never forgets of childhood. The poem is set up very well, and it reads well from beginning to end. Thanks for sharing a little piece of this history with us. Fishing trips are usually exciting for kids, and I could really sense that excitement and anticipation in every line. And just a little bit, I could sense that this kid wished dad had been a little less concerned about that lure and a little more concerned about the condition of the child's bleeding ear. I think the most poetic lines of this poem for me were the last two "wishing I had gone/swimming instead." Great poem Claire! Latorial
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-08-19 13:15:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.82609
Claire, Wow, what a delightful surprise to find this one on my list today. Your structure is good and this poem flows easily. You did an excellent job of takin your reader on a grand excursion, what a wonderful outing. I couldn't help but chuckle when I read "Dad yelling "save my lure" this just totally captured me in the moment. I can envision the trek, the pride, and the surprise of casting and it's outcome.......even the stop at the emergency room.....and then tieing it altogether in your final stanza.......Bravo, kudos---this is a winner on my list. Thank you for such a delightful read. Blessings, Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-08-19 12:40:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.41667
A lovely respite from most of the serious poems posted here. Made me laugh. So why don't or why didn't you take a boat to the middle of the lake or wherever you were fishing so you wouldn't "catch a limb?" The title is great and I really didn't think of a fishing pole when I first saw it. You want fish? Come here. My next door neighbour caught 4 salmon yesterday ranging from 20 to 30 lbs. I don't fish 'cause I'm allergic to fish. But those times you had fishing with your dad have remained with you as good times. Did you ever see the movie, "A River Runs through it?" Thanks for this loverly piece.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-08-19 11:00:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Claire, I had something else in mind after the title. Then, when I came to, "Mom tried to get it out," I was goners. Through this prism the author's intent gets . . . bent. There is no excuse for this. I know. The danger of not copying and pasting. Confronted with such purity of remembrance, I can but despoil. Forgive me. Or not. I do hope the former. Mark
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-08-19 05:59:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.86667
Claire--A great nostalgic fish story-smile. Thanks so much for this bond- ing narrative with its sorely needed bit of levity. This is a welcomed conversational like post, vividly recalling the events of a bittersweet escapade during a memorable outing. I am sure anyone who has gone fishing can identify with some similar mishap with fishing gear, especially hooks/ lures. Thanks for reminding me of the new unused reeling rods that I've had for years, but never got the liscense needed in order to use them-smile. A simple but heartfelt personal write. TLW
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