i think fishing is samethimng realy coll, but at the same time is samething realy sad cause at the and of the day the fishes are going to be all dead, and this is a really sad thing. but i fill a little enbareced abou it cause i still like fishing.
I’m gunna go fishin. I don’t know where, or what I’ll catch or who I’ll bring with me. I just know that I have my mind set on going fishing, and ain’t nothing gunna stop me. Whether rain or shine, snow or hail, I’m gunna go. You join me?
she was fishing for more details. she never suspected that she knew all there was to know–so she pried. she wanted more. anythnig—even lies–just more. she needed to wrap her head around the truth that had begun to crumble around her. she grasped for the sense of things. she was fishing in an empty pond.
“See that large, red goldfish? I’m gonna catch it for you, just watch!” He furrowed his brows in concentration and held out the rod, looking more determined than he’d ever seen him be. He let the line sink into the small pool, and tried guiding it towards the fish he was trying to capture. They were at a festival, and this was one of the small activities one could do. Apparently, no one had caught a fish yet, and of course, he just couldn’t say no to a challenge. But soon his patience wore off, and his grip on the rod slackened, and the red fish darted away quickly in the water, all his hard work, gone.
The line shivered on a breeze but did not pull tight again. Silver shadows flitted just beneath the water’s surface, skirting around the rowboat’s hull and clustering in the shadows.
“Why don’t they come any closer–?”
“Shh.”
The sound mirrored the hiss of air leaving the Coors can as grandma Jane popped the seal. “We have to wait very quietly,” she said, and then took a drink.
The Jade Rabbit and I sat there at her crimson dressing table. My eyes flickered over her many jade and shell combs and fine gold and wood inlay hair pins and bobbles. Red silk tassels dangled at the ends of those that tapered off straight as arrows, while others took on animal shapes. The Koi fish caught my eye for all the nuanced details in its gold-tipped scales.
“Draw another card, my dear.”
I hesitated, Quetzalcoatl had previously sat in my position. I did not like the hand he drew. I worried my cards would be the same. Perhaps I worried after a single card in particular, The Fisherman. No good ever comes from one who brings hungry death in his wake.
I took a deep breath and lifted a starry-backed, black card, flipping it over I found contentment in the vision of seven cherry blossom trees, which progressed from seed to sprout to youthful plant to young adult to aging tree to death of the tree and back to seedling again.
“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
The Jade Rabbit smirked a little, tittering as she did, “Tell me dear, do you see a face in any of the branches, maybe one down in the roots?”
He talked about the weather a little bit and then started asking awkward questions that no one should ever ask. When she asked why he was asking such things, he laughed, and asked an even odder question. She replied with silence.
Fishing is an exercise that I do not particularly share, or take part in. I will not hold it against anyone who are thrilled by the victory of catching ten or fifty fishes on their outing. The pace is too slow for me.
Fishing is an exercise that I do not particularly share otf take part in. I will not hold it against anyone who are thrilled by the victory of catching ten or fifty fishes on their outing. The pace is too slow for me.
Fishing is peaceful and fulfilling. Food and nourishment. Quiet and serene. I am no good at it, nor do I have the patience or skill to do it. I just sit and think about the peace I might feel in my soul if I had the patience to fish.
i feel i fell in love with the idea
that fishing for perfection led
to perfection
but instead disappointment
recrimination
deliberation
depression
hook line and sinker
i fault i felt i was not but half a man
but in the end it turned out i’m twice the man
i thought i am.
There’s a peaceful tranquility in casting the rod across the ripples and crests of ocean as the sun, a soft amber behind a mist of cloud and fog, climbs to the top of the sky and casts orange across the water. Sit, watch, wait for the bite that may or may not nibble.
I love to go fishing with my dad and uncle. They love the tranquility of being out on a boat in the water. We don’t talk, we just concentrate on fishing. Every now and then, we help each other with a particularly heavy catch. We love it.
The LORD said to his disciples;”Come with me. Lay down your nets and be fishers of men.” What that means is that we should go into the world and tell people all about our Savior, Jesus Christ!
Fishing is the all American, spend time with good-ole pops activity. I myself have never been fishing, nor do I plan on partaking in the manly activity (unless a cute boy takes me, of course).
One of the best fishing stories my father ever told me. (There are many. . . )
One day, he was sitting on DunLeary pier, catching nothing, as several passers-by asked him about that very subject. Eventually, exasperated, he responded to one gentleman that his catch of the day was “Peace and quiet!” The man walked away without a word, and my father immediately regretted his rudeness. But a few weeks later, fishing in the same spot, the same gentleman approached him, and said; “I want to thank you. On your recommendation, I have taken up fishing as a hobby, and it has indeed proved to be a source of peace and quiet in my life.” My father smiled; – that passer-by had indeed been his catch of the day!-)
The couple were satisfied with their idyllic holiday. He pulled the final loop of fishing line over the side of the boat. It was a normal-sized mackerel. He smiled and fed it to his wife, who joyously wolfed down the fish, skeleton and all.
sparkle and quiver in the moonlight.
The full moon reflects off the shimmering mirror.
Little pop sounds come from upstream.
They are here but they are hiding
I lure them in with cheese
And eventually they reach the campfire.
death of a fish. catch and release. a bonding activity between a mentor and a child. the first lesson in life and death. the peace people find within the water and the casual encounters of death within the infinite possible moments that your time will come. your turn at control.
he cast his rod into the deep blue sea
the feathered bait fell into the water with a soft plunk
he sat on the dock peacefully, with his son beside him
there is nothing in the world he loves more than fishing
I loved fishing. There was something about it, so soothing and calming. I used to daydream about taking my kids there, one day. That was before the flood, before the sun had been taken away. And with the sun’s departure, everything else had left too. There was only half-rotted salmon and the stench of decay.
Oh, she was fishing alright. She wasn’t even trying to hide it with sugared words and a witty tone. She was blunt with her questions and was clear with what she wanted to know. Jeez, she was actually serious about this?
Fishing is something that i want to do. I have seen fishermen out fishing in the ocean in Goa. They are out the whole night and when morning comes they come back with a huge catch. Sometimes it is dangerous to go out because there is a storm brewing. then it is up to the captain of the boat to decide whether to go out or not.
Drop a line
Deeper into syncopated wave
I could gut it, you know
I could lick a scale and tuck the smell of it between my fingers
show everyone in the morning
proof of belonging
nestled my face under the irridescent skin
Eridan loved to fish. Loved it more than anything else in the world. The second thing to it was his boyfriend, Sollux. Well, his real name was Alex, but everyone, including Sollux himself, called him Sollux for some reason. He didn’t mind though, he liked the name better than his original.
So when Eridan asked him to go fishing with him on the weekend he gladly said “Yeah thure ED.”
Eridan decided that he loved his boyfriend more than fishing.
Dark and lonely. They told me I’d be so lonely out there on the water by myself. No noise, no voices. Nothing but my own thoughts and the splashing of the water. The strange thing is, I wasn’t lonely. I never felt more alive, more at peace. I had struggle me entire life to put my thoughts at ease and I hadn’t been able to figure it out until now. Sure, being out on the water by myself for does was a little hard to get used to, but I came back home feeling better. I was the husband I wanted to be and the father I wanted to be for a couple days until I went back onto the water. Fishing wasn’t lonely. Fishing made me the person I needed to be
fishing is one of the those things that you earn. those lazy early mornings out on the lake with a couple good people and more than a couple of good drinks. but it loses its flavor if you go day after day after day. and you better eat what you catch.
Being a little girl who loves pink and makeup and dress up it was hard to tell my daddy yes when asked to go fishing. But because I loved him so much you would see me with a pink fishing pole.
It was a lovely warm day. Skies were blue. Weather was not neither too warm nor too cold. I decided to go fishing alone. I prefer to fish alone. The best part about fishing is that it gives you time to self reflect. To get a stock of your life
Fishing in the grass. Wondering what you’re thinking of to moonlight serenade. Just whistling in the grass and watching the stars kiss. The moon blushes at my dreams and looks the other way, but I catch it eyeing me all night.
I am slender. I dive. I am enveloped by the silky waters. It swallows me whole and I slip beneath the skin of the river like paper through rain. My beak is a spear, and the fish is too slow he is mine in an instant. I steady, I slow, I rise. I break upwards through the folding water and it shatters like glass.
A young woman decided to go fishing at the local river one day and never came back. I, as the newest detective on the small town’s police force, was expected to investigate. I never knew her. I had always missed her around town, which was apparently a surprising feat considering the measly population and square mileage of the place. But I had never met her. And now I was in charge of finding her and making her family happy. Fancy that. I felt like I could use a whiskey already, and it was only nine thirty in the morning.
I went fishing one Saturday. I came home that same Saturday. I got nothing that Saturday. You see, that’s just my luck as far as fishing goes. But hey, I think that I still might try it again, next Saturday, maybe.
for compliments it’s not like me you have to initiate the praise or it’s not sfae to enjoy so tellme your best thoughts of me safely or walk/fly away then
I know that it’s late in year, but let’s go fishing. The air is crisp but the sky is purple and it smells like chives on the lake. I have a wooden boat, you know. And I’ll bring life vests so you won’t drown if you fall into the water. I will bring a warm jacket because I know how you get cold. There’s a small bottle of champagne tucked under the wooden seat in my boat and we can drink it all night while we laugh at each other. Please come fishing with me.
i just trying to improve my writting skills, they’re realy bad.
i think fishing is samethimng realy coll, but at the same time is samething realy sad cause at the and of the day the fishes are going to be all dead, and this is a really sad thing. but i fill a little enbareced abou it cause i still like fishing.
I’m gunna go fishin. I don’t know where, or what I’ll catch or who I’ll bring with me. I just know that I have my mind set on going fishing, and ain’t nothing gunna stop me. Whether rain or shine, snow or hail, I’m gunna go. You join me?
she was fishing for more details. she never suspected that she knew all there was to know–so she pried. she wanted more. anythnig—even lies–just more. she needed to wrap her head around the truth that had begun to crumble around her. she grasped for the sense of things. she was fishing in an empty pond.
“See that large, red goldfish? I’m gonna catch it for you, just watch!” He furrowed his brows in concentration and held out the rod, looking more determined than he’d ever seen him be. He let the line sink into the small pool, and tried guiding it towards the fish he was trying to capture. They were at a festival, and this was one of the small activities one could do. Apparently, no one had caught a fish yet, and of course, he just couldn’t say no to a challenge. But soon his patience wore off, and his grip on the rod slackened, and the red fish darted away quickly in the water, all his hard work, gone.
The line shivered on a breeze but did not pull tight again. Silver shadows flitted just beneath the water’s surface, skirting around the rowboat’s hull and clustering in the shadows.
“Why don’t they come any closer–?”
“Shh.”
The sound mirrored the hiss of air leaving the Coors can as grandma Jane popped the seal. “We have to wait very quietly,” she said, and then took a drink.
I AM FISHING MANY FISCHES IN THIS LAKE TODAY.
The Jade Rabbit and I sat there at her crimson dressing table. My eyes flickered over her many jade and shell combs and fine gold and wood inlay hair pins and bobbles. Red silk tassels dangled at the ends of those that tapered off straight as arrows, while others took on animal shapes. The Koi fish caught my eye for all the nuanced details in its gold-tipped scales.
“Draw another card, my dear.”
I hesitated, Quetzalcoatl had previously sat in my position. I did not like the hand he drew. I worried my cards would be the same. Perhaps I worried after a single card in particular, The Fisherman. No good ever comes from one who brings hungry death in his wake.
I took a deep breath and lifted a starry-backed, black card, flipping it over I found contentment in the vision of seven cherry blossom trees, which progressed from seed to sprout to youthful plant to young adult to aging tree to death of the tree and back to seedling again.
“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
The Jade Rabbit smirked a little, tittering as she did, “Tell me dear, do you see a face in any of the branches, maybe one down in the roots?”
He talked about the weather a little bit and then started asking awkward questions that no one should ever ask. When she asked why he was asking such things, he laughed, and asked an even odder question. She replied with silence.
Fishing is an exercise that I do not particularly share, or take part in. I will not hold it against anyone who are thrilled by the victory of catching ten or fifty fishes on their outing. The pace is too slow for me.
Fishing is an exercise that I do not particularly share otf take part in. I will not hold it against anyone who are thrilled by the victory of catching ten or fifty fishes on their outing. The pace is too slow for me.
I was waiting for that catch, for a whiiile. Oh, silly you..!
(a/n: minimalism ftw; or not)
Fishing is peaceful and fulfilling. Food and nourishment. Quiet and serene. I am no good at it, nor do I have the patience or skill to do it. I just sit and think about the peace I might feel in my soul if I had the patience to fish.
i feel i fell in love with the idea
that fishing for perfection led
to perfection
but instead disappointment
recrimination
deliberation
depression
hook line and sinker
i fault i felt i was not but half a man
but in the end it turned out i’m twice the man
i thought i am.
There’s a peaceful tranquility in casting the rod across the ripples and crests of ocean as the sun, a soft amber behind a mist of cloud and fog, climbs to the top of the sky and casts orange across the water. Sit, watch, wait for the bite that may or may not nibble.
I love to go fishing with my dad and uncle. They love the tranquility of being out on a boat in the water. We don’t talk, we just concentrate on fishing. Every now and then, we help each other with a particularly heavy catch. We love it.
The LORD said to his disciples;”Come with me. Lay down your nets and be fishers of men.” What that means is that we should go into the world and tell people all about our Savior, Jesus Christ!
Fishing is the all American, spend time with good-ole pops activity. I myself have never been fishing, nor do I plan on partaking in the manly activity (unless a cute boy takes me, of course).
One of the best fishing stories my father ever told me. (There are many. . . )
One day, he was sitting on DunLeary pier, catching nothing, as several passers-by asked him about that very subject. Eventually, exasperated, he responded to one gentleman that his catch of the day was “Peace and quiet!” The man walked away without a word, and my father immediately regretted his rudeness. But a few weeks later, fishing in the same spot, the same gentleman approached him, and said; “I want to thank you. On your recommendation, I have taken up fishing as a hobby, and it has indeed proved to be a source of peace and quiet in my life.” My father smiled; – that passer-by had indeed been his catch of the day!-)
The couple were satisfied with their idyllic holiday. He pulled the final loop of fishing line over the side of the boat. It was a normal-sized mackerel. He smiled and fed it to his wife, who joyously wolfed down the fish, skeleton and all.
sparkle and quiver in the moonlight.
The full moon reflects off the shimmering mirror.
Little pop sounds come from upstream.
They are here but they are hiding
I lure them in with cheese
And eventually they reach the campfire.
death of a fish. catch and release. a bonding activity between a mentor and a child. the first lesson in life and death. the peace people find within the water and the casual encounters of death within the infinite possible moments that your time will come. your turn at control.
he cast his rod into the deep blue sea
the feathered bait fell into the water with a soft plunk
he sat on the dock peacefully, with his son beside him
there is nothing in the world he loves more than fishing
I loved fishing. There was something about it, so soothing and calming. I used to daydream about taking my kids there, one day. That was before the flood, before the sun had been taken away. And with the sun’s departure, everything else had left too. There was only half-rotted salmon and the stench of decay.
Oh, she was fishing alright. She wasn’t even trying to hide it with sugared words and a witty tone. She was blunt with her questions and was clear with what she wanted to know. Jeez, she was actually serious about this?
Fishing is something that i want to do. I have seen fishermen out fishing in the ocean in Goa. They are out the whole night and when morning comes they come back with a huge catch. Sometimes it is dangerous to go out because there is a storm brewing. then it is up to the captain of the boat to decide whether to go out or not.
Drop a line
Deeper into syncopated wave
I could gut it, you know
I could lick a scale and tuck the smell of it between my fingers
show everyone in the morning
proof of belonging
nestled my face under the irridescent skin
Eridan loved to fish. Loved it more than anything else in the world. The second thing to it was his boyfriend, Sollux. Well, his real name was Alex, but everyone, including Sollux himself, called him Sollux for some reason. He didn’t mind though, he liked the name better than his original.
So when Eridan asked him to go fishing with him on the weekend he gladly said “Yeah thure ED.”
Eridan decided that he loved his boyfriend more than fishing.
Dark and lonely. They told me I’d be so lonely out there on the water by myself. No noise, no voices. Nothing but my own thoughts and the splashing of the water. The strange thing is, I wasn’t lonely. I never felt more alive, more at peace. I had struggle me entire life to put my thoughts at ease and I hadn’t been able to figure it out until now. Sure, being out on the water by myself for does was a little hard to get used to, but I came back home feeling better. I was the husband I wanted to be and the father I wanted to be for a couple days until I went back onto the water. Fishing wasn’t lonely. Fishing made me the person I needed to be
fishing is one of the those things that you earn. those lazy early mornings out on the lake with a couple good people and more than a couple of good drinks. but it loses its flavor if you go day after day after day. and you better eat what you catch.
Being a little girl who loves pink and makeup and dress up it was hard to tell my daddy yes when asked to go fishing. But because I loved him so much you would see me with a pink fishing pole.
It was a lovely warm day. Skies were blue. Weather was not neither too warm nor too cold. I decided to go fishing alone. I prefer to fish alone. The best part about fishing is that it gives you time to self reflect. To get a stock of your life
Fishing in the grass. Wondering what you’re thinking of to moonlight serenade. Just whistling in the grass and watching the stars kiss. The moon blushes at my dreams and looks the other way, but I catch it eyeing me all night.
we go fishing all the time because my grandpa loves to fish i dont really love to fish but i will go just to get out of the house and do something.
Fishing don’t we love it when we catch big snapper and the smell of them getting smoked so nice it taste don’t we all love fishing
I am slender. I dive. I am enveloped by the silky waters. It swallows me whole and I slip beneath the skin of the river like paper through rain. My beak is a spear, and the fish is too slow he is mine in an instant. I steady, I slow, I rise. I break upwards through the folding water and it shatters like glass.
A young woman decided to go fishing at the local river one day and never came back. I, as the newest detective on the small town’s police force, was expected to investigate. I never knew her. I had always missed her around town, which was apparently a surprising feat considering the measly population and square mileage of the place. But I had never met her. And now I was in charge of finding her and making her family happy. Fancy that. I felt like I could use a whiskey already, and it was only nine thirty in the morning.
I went fishing one Saturday. I came home that same Saturday. I got nothing that Saturday. You see, that’s just my luck as far as fishing goes. But hey, I think that I still might try it again, next Saturday, maybe.
for compliments it’s not like me you have to initiate the praise or it’s not sfae to enjoy so tellme your best thoughts of me safely or walk/fly away then
I know that it’s late in year, but let’s go fishing. The air is crisp but the sky is purple and it smells like chives on the lake. I have a wooden boat, you know. And I’ll bring life vests so you won’t drown if you fall into the water. I will bring a warm jacket because I know how you get cold. There’s a small bottle of champagne tucked under the wooden seat in my boat and we can drink it all night while we laugh at each other. Please come fishing with me.