GDPR Cookie Consent by FreePrivacyPolicy
Love Poems About Trout or Trout Love Poems
by David Smalling |
Categories: natureold, old,

Spring Forecast

I heard them in the news today counting
Down the hours
That ignore in sterile rooms
The fresh outpouring of flowers 
On the eyes, like songs
From trees laddling
Into pots of fragrant
Desire.

Do think that God must wait
Upon their measurement
Of time
Into old teacups and calendars
So small
A trout would lose
Its life in it?

When spring was at their gate
I already had her
In bed all night
A hundred hours ago
When you saw
The flowers
Brush aside the snow
And burst
Into the arms 
Of old lovers.

Let there be
No weather forecast 
For my love
But let it ever rush
Upon me 
Like the surprise
Of morning
Water on the skin
Full with the pranks
Of spring.


by HGarvey Daniel Esquire |
Categories: love, nature,

I Miss

Waking in the Dawn, to the singing of Birds
When the wind in the trees, whisper Nature's words
Watching the Brown Trout, Leaping to catch a fly
While the Blue Spruce, strong and tall, waves to the sky

Author's Note : I will be back in an Hour to finish this poem
I am at the Library and my time is almost up

by Darren Mallett |
Categories: fish, fishing, flower, innocence, nature, symbolism, tree,

Insignificant

I've found true love within our nature now;
For only when one sees how small he is, 
How insignificant to the big man; 
Can one feel empathy for trees or fish.
To the flower a tree is strong; sturdy; 
Through the current, a fish is powerful; 
Yet man destroys both with ease; remorseless. 
And thus man then also destroys himself;
Raping and pillaging his own life source; 
Encasing his survival behind glass.
And so too, do the huge corporations; 
Suffocating that which keeps them afloat; 
Enslaving the very souls of our youth; 
Bastardizing natural compassion
And degrading our very innocence.
In a world of who has the bigger stick, 
I'm just the trout at the end of the pole.

by Elisabeth Sheaffer |
Categories: humor,

Diary Entries

I comfort-ate my way all day
To try to drive the blues away.
Too many sweets my lips did pass,
Six o'clock Monday: Weight Watchers' class.

Exquisite garden full of flowers,
I sit and doze away the hours
Enchanted by those bird refrains,
Midday Today: Man clearing the drains.

I hold your image in my mind,
A deeper love I'll never find.
Aspects of your lovely face,
Thursday: Must buy trout and plaice.

A story I read made me feel good,
Things turned out just as they should
The sort of plot where all things click,
It's Friday and the cat's been sick.

by James Rasmusson |
Categories: philosophy, places

MICHIGAN

M ishigama my love,
I nto your water wonderland of brook trout and deer I
C an hear the cherubic song of chirping robin and rustling pine.
H eavenly harbors and pristine beaches shape a welcoming hand
I nfused with indigo lakes and teeming streams while three
G reat lakes enshroud to form a kirlian aura of rippling verve.
A live for but a flicker of time, my Michigan home away from Home
N urtures and readies me for the final cruise to the Wonderland of Love.


Note: The word ‘Michigan’ is a Frenchification of the Ojibwe word ‘Mishigama’ which 
means ‘large water’.

by Sidra Firdous |
Categories: lonely, lost love,

Transformation

In the cracking land of a dessert's mouth,
A flower felt a rolling drought.
Cutting it's own leaves and petals,
It writhed in thirst as a dying trout.

Praying from it's diminishing sprout,
for a hovering blessing, a single cloud!
It fell limp! Begged and wailed:
"End the curse; this scorching flout!"

And moisture, it's love, then shamelessly avouched:
"Kill your wait, start living without!
I nourish a place that makes me proud.
This love for me shall end in drought!"

The flower heard in helpless slouch,
Obeying, it grew needles to grouch!
The flower that which love was about,
Turned by pain into a cactus of drought!

by jan oskar hansen |
Categories: funny, history, music, music,

love by the river

Love by the River. 

I carried the old fashion gramophone,
she carried the records to the river. 
We sat and I kissed her while listening 
to 1959 records.

Let´s have a dip. Naked we swam in 
the moonlit river that cleanses disgust.
Her armpits had the aroma of clover

Started gramophone again, music back 
then was so trite, lyrics boring and her 
body looked enchanting in moonlight. 

I threw the bloody music machine into 
the river, she did ditto with the records. 
We made love in stillness as trout waked 
I regretted not having  brought a fishing rod. 

by Cona Adams |
Categories: betrayal, trust,

Eye Language

Her eyes speak soul,
anger burns at senseless abuse,
and tears pool at any sad story.

His chocolate orbs entice.
A sidelong glance gathers floss,
dangles trout on the hook. 

Her emerald iris's sing,  
radiate joy and glow sultry 
as chocolate touches her tongue.        

His sheep's eyes ensnare,
hawk promise of romance, and veil
a forked tongue behind tempter's lips.
 
Her eye language shouts,
dances laughter and sparkles 
excitement as she rips off ribbon.

His brown iris's magnetize.
Molten love draws her into flame; 
bones turn to Jell-O, veins to liquid fir

by Phillip Garcia |
Categories: drug, lost love,

Her to Her to I

In my bedroom the three of us all high:
her, her, and I: pass methamphetamine
in circle, her to her to I, our lean
mannequin forms pressed hand to leg to thigh,
one on my left, one with a school yard eye.
We three are, and have been since seventeen,
friends without borders, like grass without green,
throating for water from skiffs diver dry,
strung out on wire like trout with tin-foil breasts	
and pupils bulging black as once-a-star.
In my bedroom, the three of us undressed -
took her, then her, now I - have logged too far
on thirty six strips of backward spinning crests
to hide our heal where love unpeeled is scar. 

by Zelda Cane |
Categories: life

Just a Loser

Just a loser,
A loser am I,
Everyone else is so superior,
I am so inferior, oh why, oh why?

My poems are dumb,
Theirs are great,
I love theirs,
But mine I hate.

I feel terrible,
I feel like a big nothing,
Oh how, Oh how,
I wish to be something.

I am a trout
In a pool full of angel fish,
They'll be awed at by little children,
And I'll end up on a paper dish.

They'll be actors,
With all that fame,
And I'll be stuck at home
Playing that dumb monopoly game.

Just a loser,
A loser am I,
Everyone else is so superior,
I am so inferior, oh why, oh why?

by Larry Bradfield |
Categories: dream,

Somewhere Else

Wish I was somewhere else today
I ain't partic'lar where
Maybe upon a mountain top
Breathin' that cool blue air

Or I could fish a mountain stream
Catch me a big fat trout
Maybe wander to Galveston
Get a sunburn, no doubt

I had a love in Texas once
Maybe I'll hold her hand
Tell her of all the things I miss
Since I became a man

Wonder if I could kiss her still
'Neath a full Texas moon
Tell her things I have said before -
Listen to Elvis croon

Guess that's askin' a little much -
I'll think it anyway
Don't see the harm in dreamin' that
I'm somewhere else today


6/21/2017
For Brian Strand's Contest no 300

by Darren Garmer |
Categories: imagination, nature, peace

Natures Frolic

As I stand by the river, 
Watching brook trout deliver their eggs in a harmonic spawning song…   
I can feel the sacred shower from the waterfalls love tower, 
Cleansing my being like the white lotus flower…   
Suddenly right then the winds begin parading jasmine and suckle…   
Remembering you I follow natures tune, rolling in the clover with a chuckle…   

by Rick Richardson |
Categories: beauty, imagery, lost love, memory,

The Falls So Long Ago

Thinking back on that day
so long ago, I always have to ask myself
if my recollection is true. 

Did the sunlight and the spray from the falls
really create a rainbowed halo above you?
And did the trout all rise to the surface
at one time just to feed on your beauty?

On even the coldest days the memory
still never fails to warm my heart. 
Funny how tomorrow I might smile
thinking of that day so long ago,
and the next shed tears abundant as the falls
that in concert with the sun
sang you forever into my heart.

4/4/14


by jan oskar hansen |
Categories: angel, baby, beach, betrayal,

a mistake and a big bosom

A Mistake and a big Bosom  
Youth is the time we do things that we regret
And before I continue why have never walked into
A murder scene like Hercules.
I have never met anyone I love as much as you
She said this beautiful woman who lived by the lake
Caught trout fried them and served me Fish and
Her bosom was generous  as her love. 

 Oh, the mirror, the mirror what she said was right 
So the world was mine
And I danced in the candlelight lit by my vanity.
Her rowing boat was found in the fjord she had been
Out fishing 
Suicide the verdict was,  I knew better so did 
her father but Hercules was not there to put things
right and point out the guilty one

by sajdah al-riyami |
Categories: thank youme,

This Is What It Is

Well It turns out
You where in no need of a heart
You’ve figured out where it was out to trout
You’ve whacked with worthless weeds of gay
But Cloud Nine is Too Hazy, isn’t it?
All these “unnecessary questions” you say-
But let me tell you this:
You didn’t foil my heart

You didn’t craft a circle of maze
So I shall catch a “phase”

You didn’t cause unbearable pain
In which I crouch in my corner
And let it take me faraway From sane

You didn’t race the rains
Or give the skies a falling grey

Responsible for the dead trees in
My Garden?
I think not

No, Dear:
You just educated me
From unwarranted Love

by Kim McAdam |
Categories: appreciation, fish, happiness, nonsense, sunshine, water,

Too Much Love

I breathed in the lake
till a trout
got caught in my throat

by David Morrison |
Categories: devotion, forgiveness, hope, introspection, lost love, love, peace,

closed for construction

a sea
of
tarnished beams
and shattered shards of
           steel and
           twisted
           bolts

No refuge in a
concrete haven.

The
Wreckage
stands suspended--
lifeless and immobile,
indistinct and through
a pass
starkly.

(of Broken Bridges these
trout are Wary.

suddenly,
sagely,
taller than Tomorrow and
More yellow than Today;
      a spindly arm
h
o
i
s
t
s

These skeletal remains ( still dripping
and quietly,
ohso tenderly,
performs the healing

by hien tran |
Categories: allusion,

ABOUT

ABOUT
Sometimes they don't know what they are talking about
Love can be understood inside out
My dreams are with the miraculous trout
Still, let's come back to the end of the dispute you shout
Tr?n Minh Hi?n Hien Tran Orlando June 8, 2016