THE WATERS OF MY DREAM

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Another "long-ago" (v. long ago) poem about fishing. Putting it out to see if rhyming verse is taboo! (Feel like a sociologist this a.m. researching "Audience Reaction To Conventional Scan & Rhyme"!)

Like lemon on my tongue these mornings feel.

The summer sun has blossomed full of warmth.

The tingling freshness makes the senses reel

As off I go to fish the pike and eel,

The prickly perch, the red-eyed tench and bream

That laze upon the waters of my dream.

 

I watch the sun that swims the eddies through,

And see the dragon flies like coloured glass.

They stir the lemon air with wings of blue,

While untaught buzzards learn to soar and mew;

And I cast lines to catch the doleful bream

That laze upon the waters of my dream.

 

This is a citadel of unknown mirth

Where laughter's thrown upon the bank as foam.

Like scattered incense from the opening earth

The flowers blossom in a plenteous birth,

While I seek perch and tench and sad-eyed bream

That laze upon the waters of my dream.

 

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