FishingA Poem by PólFlies cast across its breadth. One black and green, the other garish red. Whilst picturing in my mind's eye the beauty of this place.
From the calm, a volcano erupts. Rod bends, but doesn't break Line tightens its noose around your neck as you start one final frenzied dance as, kicking and screaming I drag you , nearer,nearer nearer.
The game played out you lie exhausted, imprisoned in a net. Awaiting the final rite. © Paul O' Neill 2012
© 2013 PólReviews
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Added on August 16, 2012Last Updated on May 20, 2013 AuthorRelated WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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