| KEVIN PERKINS | |
Never mind smelling the flowers, don’t forget to take time out to see the satirical side of fishing life and grab a laugh along the way as well. So here’s a regular column from Kevin Perkins to remind us that life is for laughing at, or taking the p*** out of, whenever we can. |
| And now for something completely different….. One thing that writing articles for this column has given me over the years is a sense of self-indulgence. Graham kindly gives me a, relatively, free hand to ramble on about all sorts of twaddle with sometimes tenuous links to fishing. I have, in the past, and will always maintain, that I am not a ‘natural’ writer. Some of the articles I have inflicted upon the readers have been tortuously crafted around a single phase that has caught my eye. Occasionally that phase will sits on a file for ages as nothing seems to ‘grow’ from it. The first line of this poem is just such a case in point, it was originally supposed to have been the start of a wistful, nostalgic reflection on the whole premise of angling, but that isn’t really me at all, is it? Not even in my wildest flights of imagination (and they can be pretty wild!) would I have dreamed of inflicting a poem upon the loyal FM readers – until now! The last time I deliberately wrote anything poetic was the year I sat the 11 plus exam, when our much loved English teacher suddenly got it into his head that the subject would be sneaked into the exam ‘under the radar’. It wasn’t of course. I make no claims for the following ditty, I doubt that it scans properly; I have absolutely no concept of couplets nor stanzas, or even if that is the correct poetic terminology. And having completed my own dismal effort anyone who writes ‘proper’ poetry has earned my respect. Anyway, It is not meant as some social comment, nor is it at all likely that the exercise will ever be repeated. It’s just a one-off attempt at writing a poem, and for that reason, and probably that reason alone, it certainly qualifies as something ‘Alternative’. A QUIET LIFE…….? The angler sits upon the bank ‘How boring’ is what most will say He is deep in thought, all plans and schemes ‘Caught any, mate?’ once more the cry Black Labrador comes bounding up A motorboat, not paying attention Twitchers come and stand behind Families come, the kids throw sticks The tip pulls round, a bite, at last! Lycra’d cyclist, pedalling fast He slowly pulls the elastic back Bike and rider, now both a mess In the distance, sirens wail The rule of law is handed down ‘This first time, you’ll be released PS: Now, if we can only get Billy Bragg to set the words to music, I reckon we could have a Top Ten hit on our hands here……! |
