The Bond

I remember nights of roaring surf,
The long rods nodding with the pull,
Watching in the hiss and glare of pressure lamps,
Waiting with my father, for the fish to run.

And run they did, made lines sing in the wind,
Smooth muscled silver-green flanked cod,
Gorged plump on shrimp shoaled in the scour.
We cradled them from breaker’s undertow,
Our sea soaked clothes raw in the cold of night,
To marvel as they glistened on the sand.
Next day, served on our plates,
They tasted like they’d swum from seas of heaven.

But time has stolen him away from me,
And I have lost the heart, for fishing was our bond,
Yet still I look out on the starry, surf filled, fishless nights
To think of how it was;
Just waiting for the moon to light a seaward path,
And wishing it could take me back to then.

by Patrick Ladbrooke

Comments (17)

Patrick, Your poem about the bond between your father and you was understood and deliberate. There IS a bond between a boy and his dad that might not ever be explained outside of poetry. It is different than all other relationships. It is the agent that defines who and what we become and do. I lost my dad, also, and wrote a poem, Stalemate if you choose to read it. It summarily says that we who have been taught must now become the teacher. Your writing is very poignant and well structured. I commend your poet's heart on writing about such a personal and painful matter.
Absolutely beautiful. Reminds me of fishing with my father.
This is nostalgic. We don't appreciate what we are going through when young. A deep reflection of the past gives us a great memory. The poet has done this perfectly well. Kudos
Lovely poem...Our memories of time spent with our parents are always too poignant to be forgotten...
Brilliant poem, very nostalgic, great memories that will never erase the special bond shared, thanks for sharing.
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