Hook, Line and Sinker



He used to cast his words indifferently,

random forays into random pools in

hopes of a nibble. Now, he selects

his bait with care – a metaphorical

jig, an alliterative spoon, a methodically

tied fly well-placed into the heart of

the brook. There, he sets the hook

with practised hand, reeling in

a string of gleaming tales

to recount at tomorrow’s camp-fire.



13 comments on “Hook, Line and Sinker

  1. Wow – this poems says so much! Loved it.

  2. Rich, amazing poem. So well written, complete but still open.

    • melodylowes says:

      Thank you! I take that as a high compliment. (I may just frame it, actually, and bring it out when my teenagers are particularly convinced of my low intellect…) 🙂

  3. This poem makes me think how careful we should be at choosing our words especially angry ones, Before I was a Christian I never gave much thought to the damage I caused with caustic remarks spurred by hurt or anger, Now I ask the Lord to put a muzzle on my angry retorts and make me think first before speaking. Once someone has set the hook with hasty words they can never be taken back

  4. Excellent–I got it, and I’m not a fishing person.

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