Anglers World Poem by Frederick Nellist

A man at peace he's the king of the world
A river bank his thrown with lines unfurled
In weather not friendly his reign is content
No hours are counted his time is well spent
Quietly anticipating life's cares drift by
A lack of tight lines sometimes he will sigh
His spool spinning round for all it's worth
Will focus his thoughts back down to earth
Ever oblivious it seems to the passing time
His fishing pole saluting the muddy old Tyne
A dipping float betrays an inquisitive cod
Or some unsuspecting aquatic bending his rod
Many pictures in mind do his thoughts paint
A positive heaven both for sinners and saint
His rod is poised over murky waters unknown
Reaping the harvest of the bait he has sown
Patiently contemplating hoping the fish rise
But not vagrant flotsam, a catch in disguise
Like the Tyne's tide his thoughts ebb and flow
This is his kingdom, where else would he go?