Adeeyoyo's Blog

I write what I feel…



Post No. 887




Head feels fuzzy, stuffed cotton ears,

And the room rocks gently

Confirming my fears:

Something wrong coming on.

Beepee always good so it’s not that.

No cold, no cough and had a good laugh

At efbee this morning, while the cat

Was sick on the mat ~ drat!


©Denise G Allen, 20 October 2015 08:25


The Fisherman

The Fisherman

Every day, no matter the weather,
Wind, sun, cold or rain,
The fisherman would make his way
Down the dunes towards the sea.

If the tide was low, he would fish from the rocks,
Getting his bait from the rock pools first,
Then stand in the spray facing the sea
And cast his line beyond the waves.

When the tide was high, he would lie on the beach,
With his bag stuffed under his head,
And the line hooked round his finger to feel
If a fish had taken the bait.

I saw him catch a fish or three
And carry them, thread on a piece of string,
As he passed me by on his way back home
With a smile on his face and a soft greeting.