The other night, after Lynne had gone to bed, I was sitting on the couch watching the Brewers lose again when my thoughts turned to Dad. We have a picture sitting on the stereo that I took of Mom and Dad while they were fishing. They are dressed in their waders and have on their fishing vest and hats, Mr and Mrs ‘Ol Fisherman

Looking at this picture got me to thinking about Dad and fishing and all of the wonderful times we had while fishing. In my mind I saw Dad there at the lake and the river. I could see the look on his face and hear his voice as it rang out across the water. These four little ‘Ol Fisherman poems are the result of those thoughts.

The ‘Ol Fisherman stands
Scanning the water before him
Searching with wise eyes
For that elusive trout

Wise in the ways of the trout
The ‘Ol Fishman drifts his fly
In front of it’s snout

The river meanders
A fish jumps
The ‘Ol Fisherman stands
Patiently waiting

With a smile on his face that’s wider than mine
The ‘Ol Fisherman stands at my side
Netting my catch

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I thought I’d lighten the mood here a little tonight by offering a few more of my “Little Pieces of Soul” poems to you. These have all been recently written. I have quite a creative spark going right now.

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Tiny golden lights
Flash in the summertime night
Fireflies all around

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White sails gliding across emerald water
Peaceful reminders of all that’s good

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Sun sets pretty in the west
Clouds in east prettier still
In between I silently sit in awe

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3 am lightning flash thunder crash
Awakened from a deep sleep
Soothing rain brings dreams again
Then FLASH CRASH
No sleep tonight it seems

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Surrounded by memories of the past
I stride forward into the future
While tiptoeing through the present

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I’ve started writing some poems again. Nothing big and fancy yet, but instead what I like to call “little pieces of my soul”. They’re small poems that come to me out of nowhere in a moment of inspiration. I’ve also been playing around with some Haiku. Here’s a few of my newest poems.

Evening light shining
Cardinal singing in his tree
I relax within

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Fiery clouds ignited by the days last light
Oh how I wish I could wrap in their warmth tonight

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Swirling melodies
Of vibrant sound
Swimming around my head
Ah the Grateful Dead

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Laying within the embrace of the oak tree’s shade
A blissful retreat from the summer sun’s heat

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“Pondering Ravens”

Glancing skyward
Where cloud mountains grow,
Dark specks appear on the white.
Bodiless shadows,
Black as space,
Circle high in the sky above.
Hundreds circling,
Giving shape to the
invisible thermal
On which they ride,
Circling higher, higher
And higher still,
Until finally they break.
Like children released from school,
They scatter about.
Chasing, spinning, diving,
Rolling and playing
In all directions away they fly.
Leaving the clouds to grow,
And me
To ponder.
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I don’t normally comment on my poems, but I want to tell you a little bit about this one. The scene that inspired this poem is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. It happened in the Owens Valley near the Tungsten Hills. There were hundreds of ravens circling on a heat thermal that was rising up from the valley. You could clearly see the thermal and the rotation of it because of all the birds. I’ve seen flocks of ravens do this before, but never in these numbers. The birds kept riding the thermal higher and higher until you could barely see the highest ones.

Then all at once, they broke from the thermal and flew away in all directions.  As they were flying away the ravens began playing. They were chasing each other, diving, doing flips and spinning, it was like school had been let out and summer vacation had started. Within 10 minutes of the birds breaking from the thermal, there wasn’t a raven to be seen anywhere. They were all gone.

The raven tends to get a bad rap from people. If you study them though, you find that they are a very interesting and unique bird. This isn’t the only time that I’ve been fascinated by their behavior.  There have been many times that I’ve been left pondering ravens.

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