Fisherman On The Run

 

Friday, September 10, 2010

Fisherman On the Run

This is a tribute. Meant for the self-sponsored. Plagued by a burning desire. Chasing a dream. Trading home cooked meals for peanut butter sandwiches and ceiling fans for camper shells. Broke. Exhausted. Determined. It's a tribute, to the fisherman on the run.

 

Two hands torn and weary eyes,

skin like leather from the sun.

Worry that smiles can't disguise,

for that fisherman on the run.

 

No bluffing here, the soul is seen,

fisherman's lie won't get you far.

The opponents' eyes are to keen,

as they zero in on a familiar scar.

 

Tough fishing is a common foe,

amongst all from time to time.

Deciding whether to stay or go,

earn a paycheck or not a dime.

 

While running his head is reeling,

risking it all on a hunch at best.

It's a gamble on a gut feeling,

putting that instinct to the test.

 

Motor muffles a million voices,

all screaming inside his head.

Too much riding on his choices,

should have a 9 to 5 instead.

 

Then he could be at home tonight,

helping her tuck in the little one.

Worrying now wouldn't be right,

there's a job that must be done.

 

With rod in hand he makes a cast,

something just doesn't feel right.

There's no way it's a fish that fast,

then thump, the line goes tight.

 

Swift hook set does soon reveal,

there's a monster at the end.

The line is screaming from his reel,

as the fish's will he tries to bend.

 

Struggle seems to go on for days,

giving it all he's got to get her in.

Already guessing what she weighs,

his biggest since who knows when.

 

Eye to eye the two warriors meet,

as he fights to bring her aboard.

The mic picks up each heartbeat,

while he reaches for his reward.

 

Just like that she's in the boat,

slimy green symbol of success.

But still there's no time to gloat,

he must hurry to catch the rest.

 

In twenty minutes his well is full,

how quickly things can change.

The storm of worries hits a lull,

as his torn emotions rearrange.

 

The boat ride back is not so bad,

tough decisions out of the way.

One thing's for certain he is glad,

he chose to run and not to stay.

 

Loaded down he walks the pier,

bulging bag causes him to lean.

Thinking this might be his year,

a tingle runs through his spleen.

 

Deep breath, he takes the stage,

the scales will reveal the weight.

It's gravity's pull that they gauge,

but they'll also measure his fate.

 

Numbers flash, the crowd erupts,

he has finally reached the top.

The check, trophy, and closeups,

but for a moment he has to stop.

 

Through tear-filled eyes he sees,

that a line has begun to form.

A weak feeling hits his knees,

knowing this is out of the norm.

 

There's still a prize he must collect,

from each veteran and young gun.

Their handshakes and due respect,

all await that fisherman on the run.

 

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