The river Kennet in berkshire holds a special sub species of brown trout called Greenbacks. they grow very large and are very rare
This sestina describes a capture of one
By M.A.Meddings
I found a Kennet Greenback by the bridge upon the Draughts
Where the stream diverts to a single cut along the bank
And causes the current to swing around
Then back again to the main. There he is was king
Had a deal on his world and was not easily fooled
This leviathan, this rarity of summer's limpid stream.
He had the beating of me for a spell on that stream
On meadows where mayflies dance and summer draughts
Swing the fly away, just on a whim, to keep me fooled
And I, having had my fill of her returned to river bank
Returned to a fight, to the meaning of life in the lair of the king
That to angle profound would turn this love around
And this giant, this hulk, might even turn my life around
Yet he disdained my gift shown clean and true to that clear stream
Just as she refused my rose for the court of a king
I supposed I had it, the strength to stand the coolest draughts
Then hide myself in the glory of summer on that river bank
Lying in wait for the trout, as a man with a maid, not easily fooled
And so he strayed, lost his way like me so easily fooled
By the pretty garb, the flashing smile as she turned around
And so I offered my gift to a lesser deal in the lair of the king
A plain grayling in Silver garb, a pretty 'Jane' of the Kennet stream
Who seeing the ruse with the aplomb of a chaperon crossed the draughts
Turned tail and ran taking her charge before her, alerting a king
Two or three times that summer, myself, 'Jane' and the king
We played the same old game, each one to the other so easily fooled
Seeing him on the flats by the hut where the currents sweep the draughts
And he with eagle eye saw my stealth, my wary step and in a trice he went around
Then down the run like an express train, this fugitive of the limpid stream
Crashed through weeded leet until he found the haven, a cut in the bank
Then late one eve , as shadows cast towards the bank
I found him in a carefree mood this giant, this hulk, this king
When blinded by the setting sun as it twinkled on the Kennet stream
I found my one and only chance to have him fooled
A well cast fly a mayfly dun the 'rats cat' turn around
And he had it! Then, commenced the battle of the draughts
He charged towards the nether bank, a thought to have me fooled
But I had chanced to beat a king before he turned around
fought him on the Kennet stream then, like love, I lost him to the battle of the draughts
Poetry by lastromantichero
Read 599 times
Written on 2005-12-08 at 20:44
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This sestina describes a capture of one
I have found a Kennet greenback by M.A.Meddings
I found a Kennet GreenbackBy M.A.Meddings
I found a Kennet Greenback by the bridge upon the Draughts
Where the stream diverts to a single cut along the bank
And causes the current to swing around
Then back again to the main. There he is was king
Had a deal on his world and was not easily fooled
This leviathan, this rarity of summer's limpid stream.
He had the beating of me for a spell on that stream
On meadows where mayflies dance and summer draughts
Swing the fly away, just on a whim, to keep me fooled
And I, having had my fill of her returned to river bank
Returned to a fight, to the meaning of life in the lair of the king
That to angle profound would turn this love around
And this giant, this hulk, might even turn my life around
Yet he disdained my gift shown clean and true to that clear stream
Just as she refused my rose for the court of a king
I supposed I had it, the strength to stand the coolest draughts
Then hide myself in the glory of summer on that river bank
Lying in wait for the trout, as a man with a maid, not easily fooled
And so he strayed, lost his way like me so easily fooled
By the pretty garb, the flashing smile as she turned around
And so I offered my gift to a lesser deal in the lair of the king
A plain grayling in Silver garb, a pretty 'Jane' of the Kennet stream
Who seeing the ruse with the aplomb of a chaperon crossed the draughts
Turned tail and ran taking her charge before her, alerting a king
Two or three times that summer, myself, 'Jane' and the king
We played the same old game, each one to the other so easily fooled
Seeing him on the flats by the hut where the currents sweep the draughts
And he with eagle eye saw my stealth, my wary step and in a trice he went around
Then down the run like an express train, this fugitive of the limpid stream
Crashed through weeded leet until he found the haven, a cut in the bank
Then late one eve , as shadows cast towards the bank
I found him in a carefree mood this giant, this hulk, this king
When blinded by the setting sun as it twinkled on the Kennet stream
I found my one and only chance to have him fooled
A well cast fly a mayfly dun the 'rats cat' turn around
And he had it! Then, commenced the battle of the draughts
He charged towards the nether bank, a thought to have me fooled
But I had chanced to beat a king before he turned around
fought him on the Kennet stream then, like love, I lost him to the battle of the draughts
Poetry by lastromantichero
Read 599 times
Written on 2005-12-08 at 20:44
Tags Angling
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