Monday, December 8, 2008

Poppy's Poem


"Ode to Ghetto Casters"
By Clearwater Frank

"Voodoo" and his posse are down at the 6th street dam. They're sitting on the bank sucking down a dram

"Ole Jamey" is a castin and he hooks somethin lookin chrome but alas it was a shopping cart that wasn't taken home

So they roll up and head to Founders to have a round or two and the watch the waitress jiggle as she serves that special brew

These are the "ghettocasters" and 6th street is their hood sometimes the fishing is real poor, sometimes it's very good

They don't really seem to care as long as they can meet to talk about spey flies and castin and lookin for some chrome and stopping in at Founders before they head on home

So if you are in the Great Lakes and close to the 6th street dam look for "Voodoo" and his posse and share with them a dram

Then go with them to Founders and buy them all a round and be sure to check out the waitress as she shimmys all around

I like these ghetto casters, I think that they are fine, I hope they come to the Clearwater so we can wet a line

I'll take them to "Poppy's Riffle" and let them go thru first, I'm sure that all that castin will work up quite a thirst so we'll head back to the Red Shed where we can share a toast to waitresses and chasing chrome, the things that we like most.

Copyright 2005, By Michael Joe Cummins

The above Poem was pulled off of the Red Shed's Web Site. It celebrates the Urban aspect of some of our Great Lakes Steelheading.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Drowned Drums

Only a foot or so a day

stones loll and roll at rivers base,

pulled, prodded, pushed, plied,

by the cold invisible,

the green-machine,

the River.

Sediment becomes stars

as sun rays push through.

and current creates a galaxy

all to the tumbling,

trundling, timpani of migrating multitudes

of mineral

steelhead spectres slip over

star strewn eddies

sliver-grey galaxy blimps

carrying new life loads home.

Igneous, metamorphic made mellow

the millennium march

the mindless multitude migrating.

Clack, click, crunch

Drum beat of earth escape

the laminar surface.

Boulder base bumps

stone sounding out skeletons

to aqua-terra's silent songs.

Rocks rising rhythms,

a song tempo slowed

from slope to hinterland

to sea.