The Old Fisherman

[Frank E Gibbard]

The fisherman had a fervent wish
one day he’d hook that ”big fish.”
At last one soaring hot day at sea
this tug which could uproot a tree
jarred his tiny boat, a skiff, which
shook then took off like a Lear jet.
Sheer natural reflex held him fast
to his dear weathered tiller or this
so awesome moment had been his
last in forty and more years before
the mast, his craft not upset nor the
marlin he had awaited his own killer.

The old man set for home fish abutted,
he fought off fatigue, dark and sharks,
drifts to Morphean realms finally sleeps.
Now starts in sunbright day then weeps,
hope and fisherman well and truly gutted.

Then the drachma dropped for writer
me, this poem is little more than bare
disguise for another guy’s originality,
rip-off (how you say to plague all eyes)
of Hemingway’s “Old man AndThe Sea.”

[dr_con]

Fun Frank... Real fun;-)

 

Jurris