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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1559322
Rated: E · Poetry · Action/Adventure · #1559322
That would be me
Gator Bait

                             One windless evening the bass started biting
                             just before sunset as I glided along
                             the bayou in a pirogue with a thrust
                             of the paddle here and there for direction.

                             I was casting a Pop-R up against the bank
                             among the cypress trunks and sinewy stumps
                             and overhanging limbs and shrubs and twitching
                             and popping the bait until the fish struck.

                             To see and hear and feel the violent burst
                             of each strike and to set the hook firmly
                             in each jaw and each battle kept me out
                             until the mosquitoes and the gator came.

                             At first a bumpy head at least a foot wide
                             and three feet long with big shiny black eyes
                             inched toward the pirogue and me as if we
                             were just what he had in mind for dinner.

                             I dropped my rod and thought I'd better paddle
                             fast and hard before Wally got too close
                             but Wally sensed panic and to my horror
                             I saw the swish of his tail fifteen feet back.

                             The gator accelerated smooth and quick
                             and locked its gaze upon the very spot
                             the paddle broke water to push me away
                             until the jaws snapped and cracked it in half.

                             I slid away watching as the gator shook
                             its monstrous head free of the broken splinter
                             and I realized now he'd be coming again
                             for me down the bayou with half a paddle.

                             The pirogue rocked on the wave Wally made
                             during all the commotion and sure enough
                             he came again stalking the little boat
                             now stalled and adrift so I had to act fast.

                             I untied and lifted my stringer of bass
                             gasping and wet like a shiny green fleece
                             and hefted and hurled it aiming precisely
                             at the slashing jaws of the reptilian beast.

                             The gator struck at the fish with a splash
                             of his big toothy head and chomped down on three
                             huge bass and swallowed them whole in one gulp
                             then snapped up three more that were still on the string.

                             So Wally was happy for now as the sun
                             went down and I wondered how to get back
                             to the dock half a mile away in the dark
                             with Wally nearby and perhaps hungry yet.

                             Then I got an idea and picked up my rod
                             and cast the old Pop-R past Wally's head
                             and chugged it back popping in front of his face
                             where soon he attacked it and hooked himself good.

                             Wally went down with a jerk and a swirl
                             and made such a wave I grabbed the boat rail
                             with one hand while holding onto the rod
                             which bent almost double as the line stretched tight.

                             The pirogue took off like a rocket boat
                             as Wally swam up the bayou to flee
                             the pressure and drag and the alien hook
                             underwater and then on top with me.

                             In no time I neared the dock in the dark
                             and slackened the line until Wally shook free
                             then glided right up to the dock and tied up
                             and got out fishless but at least in one piece.

Featured review:


Honey, this isn't a poem! You have taken a great adventure short story and placed it in a poetic format but it isn't a poem. A poem usually doesn't have complete sentences. It has rhythmic lines, kind of a sing-song kind of rhythm. I suggest that you rewrite this as a short story. . . .


Rating included: 2.0 stars out of 5.0 stars. (Note: A 3.0 is Average.)

Response to this review:

LOL! I love this review and will treasure it always -- so much that in the spirit of fair use, I will append it to "Gator Bait to your ever-enduring credit.


Include 1002 Gift Points with this response.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1559322